Murder at the Vicarage - Agatha Christie [84]
With a slight sigh the old lady rose to her feet.
‘I must be getting back. I am very glad to have had this little chat – though we haven’t got very far, have we?’
‘To tell you the truth,’ I said, as I fetched her shawl, ‘the whole thing seems to me a bewildering maze.’
‘Oh! I wouldn’t say that. I think, on the whole, one theory fits nearly everything. That is, if you admit one coincidence – and I think one coincidence is allowable. More than one, of course, is unlikely.’
‘Do you really think that? About the theory, I mean?’ I asked, looking at her.
‘I admit that there is one flaw in my theory – one fact that I can’t get over. Oh! If only that note had been something quite different –’
She sighed and shook her head. She moved towards the window and absent-mindedly reached up her hand and felt the rather depressed-looking plant that stood in a stand.
‘You know, dear Mr Clement, this should be watered oftener. Poor thing, it needs it badly. Your maid should water it every day. I suppose it is she who attends to it?’
‘As much,’ I said, ‘as she attends to anything.’
‘A little raw at present,’ suggested Miss Marple.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘And Griselda steadily refuses to attempt to sack her. Her idea is that only a thoroughly undesirable maid will remain with us. However, Mary herself gave us notice the other day.’
‘Indeed. I always imagined she was very fond of you both.’
‘I haven’t noticed it,’ I said. ‘But, as a matter of fact, it was Lettice Protheroe who upset her. Mary came back from the inquest in rather a temperamental state and found Lettice here and – well, they had words.’
‘Oh!’ said Miss Marple. She was just about to step through the window when she stopped suddenly, and a bewildering series of changes passed over her face.
‘Oh, dear!’ she muttered to herself. ‘I have been stupid. So that was it. Perfectly possible all the time.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
She turned a worried face upon me.
‘Nothing. An idea that has just occurred to me. I must go home and think things out thoroughly. Do you know, I believe I have been extremely stupid – almost incredibly so.’
‘I find that hard to believe,’ I said gallantly.
I escorted her through the window and across the lawn.
‘Can you tell me what it is that has occurred to you so suddenly?’ I asked.
‘I would rather not – just at present. You see, there is still a possibility that I may be mistaken. But I do not think so. Here we are at my garden gate. Thank you so much. Please do not come any further.’
‘Is the note still a stumbling block?’ I asked, as she passed through the gate and latched it behind her.
She looked at me abstractedly.
‘The note? Oh! Of course that wasn’t the real note. I never thought it was. Goodnight, Mr Clement.’
She went rapidly up the path to the house, leaving me staring after her.
I didn’t know what to think.
Chapter 27
Griselda and Dennis had not yet returned. I realized that the most natural thing would have been for me to go up to the house with Miss Marple and fetch them home. Both she and I had been so entirely taken up with our preoccupation over the mystery that we had forgotten anybody existed in the world except ourselves.
I was just standing in the hall, wondering whether I would not even now go over and join them, when the door bell rang.
I crossed over to it. I saw there was a letter in the box, and presuming that this was the cause of the ring, I took it out.
As I did so, however, the bell rang again, and I shoved the letter hastily into my pocket and opened the front door.
It was Colonel Melchett.
‘Hallo, Clement. I’m on my way home from town in the car. Thought I’d just look in and see if you could give me a drink.’
‘Delighted,’ I said. ‘Come into the study.’
He pulled off the leather coat that he was wearing and followed me into the study. I fetched the whisky and soda and two glasses. Melchett was standing in front of the fireplace, legs wide apart, stroking his closely-cropped moustache.
‘I’ve got one bit of news for you, Clement. Most