Nemesis - Agatha Christie [91]
‘Fuss, fuss, fuss,’ said Anthea, when they had departed.
‘Somehow,’ said Mrs Glynne, ‘I agree with Clotilde that those two don’t seem real, if you know what I mean,’ she said to Miss Marple.
‘Yes,’ said Miss Marple, ‘I do rather agree with you. They don’t seem very real. I have wondered about them a good deal. Wondered, I mean, why they came on this tour and if they were really enjoying it. And what was their reason for coming.’
‘And have you discovered the answers to all those things?’ asked Clotilde.
‘I think so,’ said Miss Marple. She sighed. ‘I’ve discovered the answers to a lot of things,’ she said.
‘Up to now I hope you’ve enjoyed yourself,’ said Clotilde.
‘I am glad to have left the tour now,’ said Miss Marple. ‘I don’t think I should have enjoyed much more of it.’
‘No. I can quite understand that.’
Clotilde fetched a glass of hot milk from the kitchen and accompanied Miss Marple up to her room.
‘Is there anything else I can get you?’ she asked. ‘Anything at all?’
‘No, thank you,’ said Miss Marple. ‘I have everything I want. I have my little night bag here, you see, so I need not do any more unpacking. Thank you,’ she said, ‘it is very kind of you and your sisters to put me up again tonight.’
‘Well, we couldn’t do much less, having had Mr Rafiel’s letter. He was a very thoughtful man.’
‘Yes,’ said Miss Marple, ‘the kind of man who — well, thinks of everything. A good brain, I should think.’
‘I believe he was a very noted financier.’
‘Financially and otherwise, he thought of a lot of things,’ said Miss Marple. ‘Oh well, I shall be glad to get to bed. Goodnight, Miss Bradbury-Scott.’
‘Shall I send you breakfast up in the morning, you’d like to have it in bed?’
‘No, no, I wouldn’t put you out for the world. No, no, I would rather come down. A cup of tea, perhaps, would be very nice, but I want to go out in the garden. I particularly want to see that mound all covered with white flowers, so beautiful and so triumphant — ’
‘Goodnight,’ said Clotilde, ‘sleep well.’
II
In the hall of The Old Manor House the grandfather clock at the bottom of the stairs struck two o’clock. The clocks in the house did not all strike in unison and some of them, indeed, did not strike at all. To keep a house full of antique clocks in working order was not easy. At three o’clock the clock on the first floor landing struck a soft-chimed three o’clock. A faint chink of light showed through the hinge of the door.
Miss Marple sat up in bed and put her fingers on the switch of the electric lamp by her bed. The door opened very softly. There was no light outside now but the soft footstep came through the door into the room. Miss Marple switched the light on.
‘Oh,’ she said, ‘it’s you, Miss Bradbury-Scott. Is there anything special?’
‘I just came to see if you wanted anything,’ said Miss Bradbury-Scott.
Miss Marple looked at her. Clotilde had on a long purple robe. What a handsome woman she was, thought Miss Marple. Her hair framing her forehead, a tragic figure, a figure of drama. Again Miss Marple thought of Greek plays. Clytemnestra again.
‘You’re sure there is nothing I can bring you?’
‘No, thank you,’ said Miss Marple. ‘I’m afraid,’ she said apologetically, ‘that I have not drunk my milk.’
‘Oh dear, why not?’
‘I did not think it would be very good for me,’ said Miss Marple.
Clotilde stood there, at the foot of the bed, looking at her.
‘Not wholesome, you know,’ said Miss Marple.
‘Just what do you mean by that?’ Clotilde’s voice was harsh now.
‘I think you know what I mean,’ said Miss Marple. ‘I think you’ve known all the evening. Perhaps before that.’
‘I have no idea what you are talking about.’
‘No?’ There was a faint satirical note to the questioning monosyllable.
‘I am afraid the milk is cold now. I will take it away and get you some hot.’
Clotilde stretched out a hand and took the glass of milk from the bedside.
‘Don’t trouble yourself,’ said Miss Marple. ‘Even if you brought it me, I should not drink it.’
‘I really cannot understand the point of what you’re saying. Really,’ said Clotilde, looking