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the money she’d get him, and without the money she’d lose him,” said Father. “And so she planned a cold-blooded murder. She didn’t hide in the area, of course. There was nobody in the area. She just stood by the railings and fired a shot and screamed, and when Michael Gorman came racing down the street from the hotel, she shot him at close quarters. Then she went on screaming. She was a cool hand. She’d no idea of incriminating young Ladislaus. She pinched his pistol because it was the only way she could get hold of one easily; and she never dreamed that he would be suspected of the crime, or that he would be anywhere in the neighbourhood that night. She thought it would be put down to some thug taking advantage of the fog. Yes, she was a cool hand. But she was afraid that night—afterwards! And her mother was afraid for her….”

“And now—what will you do?”

“I know she did it,” said Father, “but I’ve no evidence. Maybe she’ll have beginner’s luck…Even the law seems to go on the principle now of allowing a dog to have one bite—translated into human terms. An experienced counsel could make great play with the sob stuff—so young a girl, unfortunate upbringing—and she’s beautiful, you know.”

“Yes,” said Miss Marple. “The children of Lucifer are often beautiful—And as we know, they flourish like the green bay tree.”

“But as I tell you, it probably won’t even come to that—there’s no evidence—take yourself—you’ll be called as a witness—a witness to what her mother said—to her mother’s confession of the crime.”

“I know,” said Miss Marple. “She impressed it on me, didn’t she? She chose death for herself, at the price of her daughter going free. She forced it on me as a dying request….”

The connecting door to the bedroom opened. Elvira Blake came through. She was wearing a straight shift dress of pale blue. Her fair hair fell down each side of her face. She looked like one of the angels in an early primitive Italian painting. She looked from one to the other of them. She said:

“I heard a car and a crash and people shouting…Has there been an accident?”

“I’m sorry to tell you, Miss Blake,” said Chief-Inspector Davy formally, “that your mother is dead.”

Elvira gave a little gasp. “Oh no,” she said. It was a faint uncertain protest.

“Before she made her escape,” said Chief-Inspector Davy, “because it was an escape—she confessed to the murder of Michael Gorman.”

“You mean—she said—that it was she—”

“Yes,” said Father. “That is what she said. Have you anything to add?”

Elvira looked for a long time at him. Very faintly she shook her head.

“No,” she said, “I haven’t anything to add.”

Then she turned and went out of the room.

“Well,” said Miss Marple. “Are you going to let her get away with it?”

There was a pause, then Father brought down his fist with a crash on the table.

“No,” he roared—“No, by God I’m not!”

Miss Marple nodded her head slowly and gravely.

“May God have mercy on her soul,” she said.

* * *

The Agatha Christie Collection

THE HERCULE POIROT MYSTERIES

Match your wits with the famous Belgian detective.

The Mysterious Affair at Styles

The Murder on the Links

Poirot Investigates

The Murder of Roger Ackroyd

The Big Four

The Mystery of the Blue Train

Peril at End House

Lord Edgware Dies

Murder on the Orient Express

Three Act Tragedy

Death in the Clouds

The A.B.C. Murders

Murder in Mesopotamia

Cards on the Table

Murder in the Mews

Dumb Witness

Death on the Nile

Appointment with Death

Hercule Poirot’s Christmas

Sad Cypress

One, Two, Buckle My Shoe

Evil Under the Sun

Five Little Pigs

The Hollow

The Labors of Hercules

Taken at the Flood

The Underdog and Other Stories

Mrs. McGinty’s Dead

After the Funeral

Hickory Dickory Dock

Dead Man’s Folly

Cat Among the Pigeons

The Clocks

Third Girl

Hallowe’en Party

Elephants Can Remember

Curtain: Poirot’s Last Case

Explore more at www.AgathaChristie.com

* * *

* * *

The Agatha Christie Collection

THE MISS MARPLE MYSTERIES

Join the legendary spinster sleuth from St. Mary Mead in solving murders far and wide.

The Murder