Nemesis - Agatha Christie [85]
There were quite a lot of difficult things going on. Presently Mrs Glynne removed the tea tray, Anthea went out into the garden and Miss Marple was left alone with Clotilde.
‘I think,’ said Miss Marple, ‘that you know an Archdeacon Brabazon, do you not?’
‘Oh yes,’ said Clotilde, ‘he was in church yesterday at the service. Do you know him?’
‘Oh no,’ said Miss Marple, ‘but he did come to the Golden Boar and he came and spoke to me there. I gather he had been to the hospital and was enquiring about poor Miss Temple’s death. He wondered if Miss Temple had sent any message to him. I gather she was thinking of paying him a visit. But of course I told him that although I did go there in case I could do anything there was nothing that could be done except sit by poor Miss Temple’s bed. She was unconscious, you know. I could have done nothing to help her.’
‘She didn’t say — say anything — any explanation of what had happened?’ asked Clotilde.
She asked without much interest. Miss Marple wondered if she felt more interest than she expressed, but on the whole she thought not. She thought Clotilde was busy with thoughts of something quite different.
‘Do you think it was an accident?’ Miss Marple asked, ‘Or do you think there is something in that story that Mrs Riseley-Porter’s niece told? About seeing someone pushing a boulder.’
‘Well, I suppose if those two said so, they must have seen it.’
‘Yes. They both said so, didn’t they,’ said Miss Marple, ‘though not quite in the same terms. But perhaps that’s quite natural.’
Clotilde looked at her curiously.
‘You seem to be intrigued by that.’
‘Well, it seems so very unlikely,’ said Miss Marple, ‘an unlikely story, unless — ’
‘Unless what?’
‘Well, I just wondered,’ said Miss Marple.
Mrs Glynne came into the room again.
‘You just wondered what?’ she asked.
‘We’re talking about the accident, or the non-accident,’ said Clotilde.
‘But who — ’
‘It seems a very odd story that they told,’ said Miss Marple again.
‘There’s something about this place,’ said Clotilde suddenly. ‘Something about this atmosphere. We never got over it here. Never. Never since — since Verity died. It’s years but it doesn’t go away. A shadow’s here.’ She looked at Miss Marple. ‘Don’t you think so too? Don’t you feel a shadow here?’
‘Well, I’m a stranger,’ said Miss Marple. ‘It’s different for you and your sisters who’ve lived here and who knew the dead girl. She was, I gather, as Archdeacon Brabazon was saying — a very charming and beautiful girl.’
‘She was a lovely girl. A dear child too,’ said Clotilde.
‘I wish I’d known her better,’ said Mrs Glynne. ‘Of course I was living abroad at that time. My husband and I came home on leave once, but we were mostly in London. We didn’t come down here often.’
Anthea came in from the garden. She was carrying in her hand a great bunch of lilies.
‘Funeral flowers,’ she said. ‘That’s what we ought to have here today, isn’t it? I’ll put them in a great jar. Funeral flowers,’ and she laughed suddenly. A queer, hysterical little giggle.
‘Anthea,’ said Clotilde, ‘don’t — don’t do that. It’s not — it’s not right.’
‘I’ll go and put them in water,’ said Anthea, cheerfully. She went out of the room.
‘Really,’ said Mrs Glynne, ‘Anthea! I do think she’s — ’
‘She’s getting worse,’ said Clotilde.
Miss Marple adopted an attitude of not listening or hearing. She picked up a small enamel box and looked at it with admiring eyes.
‘She’ll probably break a vase now,’ said Lavinia.
She went out of the room. Miss Marple said,
‘You are worried about your sister, about Anthea?’
‘Well yes, she’s always been rather unbalanced. She’s the youngest and she was rather delicate as a girl. But lately, I think, she’s got definitely worse. She hasn’t got any idea, I think, of the gravity of things. She has these silly fits of hysteria. Hysterical laughter at things one ought to be serious about. We don’t want to