Miss Marple's final cases - Agatha Christie [44]
‘Ooo, you don’t think she’ll go really bats, do you?’ said the other girl. ‘That she might knife us or something?’
They passed, chattering, and Alicia sat up indignantly in her chair. Going bats indeed! Then she added ruefully, to herself, ‘I suppose, if it wasn’t for Sybil, I should think myself that I was going bats. But with me and Sybil and Mrs Groves too, well, it does look as though there was something in it. But what I don’t see is, how is it going to end?’
Three weeks later, Sybil said to Alicia Coombe, ‘We’ve got to go into that room sometimes.’
‘Why?’
‘Well, I mean, it must be in a filthy state. Moths will be getting into things, and all that. We ought just to dust and sweep it and then lock it up again.’
‘I’d much rather keep it shut up and not go back in there,’ said Alicia Coombe.
Sybil said, ‘Really, you know, you’re even more superstitious than I am.’
‘I suppose I am,’ said Alicia Coombe. ‘I was much more ready to believe in all this than you were, but to begin with, you know—I—well, I found it exciting in an odd sort of way. I don’t know. I’m just scared, and I’d rather not go into that room again.’
‘Well, I want to,’ said Sybil, ‘and I’m going to.’
‘You know what’s the matter with you?’ said Alicia Coombe. ‘You’re simply curious, that’s all.’
‘All right, then I’m curious. I want to see what the doll’s done.’
‘I still think it’s much better to leave her alone,’ said Alicia. ‘Now we’ve got out of that room, she’s satisfied. You’d better leave her satisified.’ She gave an exasperated sigh. ‘What nonsense we are talking!’
‘Yes. I know we’re talking nonsense, but if you tell me of any way of not talking nonsense—come on, now, give me the key.’
‘All right, all right.’
‘I believe you’re afraid I’ll let her out or something. I should think she was the kind that could pass through doors or windows.’
Sybil unlocked the door and went in.
‘How terribly odd,’ she said.
‘What’s odd?’ said Alicia Coombe, peering over her shoulder.
‘The room hardly seems dusty at all, does it? You’d think, after being shut up all this time—’
‘Yes, it is odd.’
‘There she is,’ said Sybil.
The doll was on the sofa. She was not lying in her usual limp position. She was sitting upright, a cushion behind her back. She had the air of the mistress of the house, waiting to receive people.
‘Well,’ said Alicia Coombe, ‘she seems at home all right, doesn’t she? I almost feel I ought to apologize for coming in.’
‘Let’s go,’ said Sybil.
She backed out, pulling the door to, and locked it again.
The two women gazed at each other.
‘I wish I knew,’ said Alicia Coombe, ‘why it scares us so much…’
‘My goodness, who wouldn’t be scared?’
‘Well, I mean, what happens, after all? It’s nothing really—just a kind of puppet that gets moved around the room. I expect it isn’t the puppet itself—it’s a poltergeist.’
‘Now that is a good idea.’
‘Yes, but I don’t really believe it. I think it’s—it’s that doll.’
‘Are you sure you don’t know where she really came from?’
‘I haven’t the faintest idea,’ said Alicia. ‘And the more I think of it the more I’m perfectly certain that I didn’t buy her, and that nobody gave her to me. I think she—well, she just came.’
‘Do you think she’ll—ever go?’
‘Really,’ said Alicia, ‘I don’t see why she should…She’s got all she wants.’
But it seemed that the doll had not got all she wanted. The next day, when Sybil went into the showroom, she drew in her breath with a sudden gasp. Then she called up the stairs.
‘Miss Coombe, Miss Coombe, come down here.’
‘What’s the matter?’
Alicia Coombe, who had got up late, came down the stairs, hobbling a little precariously for she had rheumatism in her right knee.
‘What is the matter with you, Sybil?’
‘Look. Look what’s happened now.’
They stood