Caribbean Mystery - Agatha Christie [61]
“What it came to,” said Miss Marple, “is in essence the fact that people are highly credulous.”
“Well yes, I suppose you could put it like that.”
“They believe what they are told,” said Miss Marple. “Yes indeed, we’re all inclined to do that,” she added. Then she said sharply, “Who told you these stories about India, about the doping of husbands with datura,” and she added sharply, before he could answer, “Was it Major Palgrave?”
Jackson looked slightly surprised. “Well—yes, as a matter of fact, it was. He told me a lot of stories like that. Of course most of it must have been before his time, but he seemed to know all about it.”
“Major Palgrave was under the impression that he knew a lot about everything,” said Miss Marple. “He was often inaccurate in what he told people.” She shook her head thoughtfully. “Major Palgrave,” she said, “has a lot to answer for.”
There was a slight sound from the adjoining bedroom. Miss Marple turned her head sharply. She went quickly out of the bathroom into the bedroom. Lucky Dyson was standing just inside the window.
“I—oh! I didn’t think you were here, Miss Marple.”
“I just stepped into the bathroom for a moment,” said Miss Marple, with dignity and a faint air of Victorian reserve.
In the bathroom, Jackson grinned broadly. Victorian modesty always amused him.
“I just wondered if you’d like me to sit with Molly for a bit,” said Lucky. She looked over towards the bed. “She’s asleep, isn’t she?”
“I think so,” said Miss Marple. “But it’s really quite all right. You go and amuse yourself, my dear. I thought you’d gone on that expedition?”
“I was going,” said Lucky, “but I had such a filthy headache that at the last moment I cried off. So I thought I might as well make myself useful.”
“That was very nice of you,” said Miss Marple. She reseated herself by the bed and resumed her knitting, “but I’m quite happy here.”
Lucky hesitated for a moment or two and then turned away and went out. Miss Marple waited a moment then tiptoed back into the bathroom, but Jackson had departed, no doubt through the other door. Miss Marple picked up the jar of face cream he had been holding, and slipped it into her pocket.
Twenty-two
A MAN IN HER LIFE?
Getting a little chat in a natural manner with Dr. Graham was not so easy as Miss Marple had hoped. She was particularly anxious not to approach him directly since she did not want to lend undue importance to the questions that she was going to ask him.
Tim was back, looking after Molly, and Miss Marple had arranged that she should relieve him there during the time that dinner was served and he was needed in the dining room. He had assured her that Mrs. Dyson was quite willing to take that on, or even Mrs. Hillingdon, but Miss Marple said firmly that they were both young women who liked enjoying themselves and that she herself preferred a light meal early and so that would suit everybody. Tim once again thanked her warmly. Hovering rather uncertainly round the hotel and on the pathway which connected with various bungalows, among them Dr. Graham’s, Miss Marple tried to plan what she was going to do next.
She had a lot of confused and contradictory ideas in her head and if there was one thing that Miss Marple did not like, it was to have confused and contradictory ideas. This whole business had started out clearly enough. Major Palgrave with his regrettable capacity for telling stories, his indiscretion that had obviously been overheard and the corollary, his death within twenty-four hours. Nothing difficult about that, thought Miss Marple.
But afterwards, she was forced to admit, there was nothing but difficulty. Everything pointed in too many different directions at once. Once admit that you didn’t believe a word that anybody had said to you, that nobody could be trusted, and that many of the persons with whom she had