The Thirteen Problems - Agatha Christie [57]
‘That’s what worries me so about that poor old German woman. When one is old, one becomes embittered very easily. I felt much more sorry for her than for Mr Templeton, who is young and good-looking and evidently a favourite with the ladies. You will write to her, won’t you, Sir Henry, and just tell her that her innocence is established beyond doubt? Her dear old master dead, and she no doubt brooding and feeling herself suspected of…Oh! It won’t bear thinking about!’
‘I will write, Miss Marple,’ said Sir Henry. He looked at her curiously. ‘You know, I shall never quite understand you. Your outlook is always a different one from what I expect.’
‘My outlook, I am afraid, is a very petty one,’ said Miss Marple humbly. ‘I hardly ever go out of St Mary Mead.’
‘And yet you have solved what may be called an International mystery,’ said Sir Henry. ‘For you have solved it. I am convinced of that.’
Miss Marple blushed, then bridled a little.
‘I was, I think, well educated for the standard of my day. My sister and I had a German governess—a Fräulein. A very sentimental creature. She taught us the language of flowers—a forgotten study nowadays, but most charming. A yellow tulip, for instance, means Hopeless Love, whilst a China Aster means I die of Jealousy at your feet. That letter was signed Georgine, which I seem to remember is Dahlia in German, and that of course made the whole thing perfectly clear. I wish I could remember the meaning of Dahlia, but alas, that eludes me. My memory is not what it was.’
‘At any rate it didn’t mean DEATH.’
‘No, indeed. Horrible, is it not? There are very sad things in the world.’
‘There are,’ said Mrs Bantry with a sigh. ‘It’s lucky one has flowers and one’s friends.’
‘She puts us last, you observe,’ said Dr Lloyd.
‘A man used to send me purple orchids every night to the theatre,’ said Jane dreamily.
‘ “I await your favours,”—that’s what that means,’ said Miss Marple brightly.
Sir Henry gave a peculiar sort of cough and turned his head away.
Miss Marple gave a sudden exclamation.
‘I’ve remembered. Dahlias mean “Treachery and Misrepresentation.” ’
‘Wonderful,’ said Sir Henry. ‘Absolutely wonderful.’
And he sighed.
Chapter 10
A Christmas Tragedy
‘I have a complaint to make,’ said Sir Henry Clithering. His eyes twinkled gently as he looked round at the assembled company. Colonel Bantry, his legs stretched out, was frowning at the mantelpiece as though it were a delinquent soldier on parade, his wife was surreptitiously glancing at a catalogue of bulbs which had come by the late post, Dr Lloyd was gazing with frank admiration at Jane Helier, and that beautiful young actress herself was thoughtfully regarding her pink polished nails. Only that elderly, spinster lady, Miss Marple, was sitting bolt upright, and her faded blue eyes met Sir Henry’s with an answering twinkle.
‘A complaint?’ she murmured.
‘A very serious complaint. We are a company of six, three representatives of each sex, and I protest on behalf of the downtrodden males. We have had three stories told tonight—and told by the three men! I protest that the ladies have not done their fair share.’
‘Oh!’ said Mrs Bantry with indignation. ‘I’m sure we have. We’ve listened with the most intelligent appreciation. We’ve displayed the true womanly attitude—not wishing to thrust ourselves in the limelight!’
‘It’s an excellent excuse,’ said Sir Henry; ‘but it won’t do. And there’s a very good precedent in the Arabian Nights! So, forward, Scheherazade.’
‘Meaning me?’ said Mrs Bantry. ‘But I don’t know anything to tell. I’ve never been surrounded by blood or mystery.’
‘I don’t absolutely insist upon blood,’ said Sir Henry. ‘But I’m sure one of you three ladies has got a pet mystery. Come now, Miss Marple—the “Curious Coincidence of the Charwoman” or the “Mystery of the Mothers’ Meeting”. Don’t disappoint me in St Mary Mead.’
Miss Marple shook her head.
‘Nothing that would interest you, Sir Henry. We have our little mysteries, of course—there was that gill of picked shrimps that disappeared