AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She lay back on the pillows and closed her eyes.
“That’s all. I suppose you’ll arrest me and take me away. I’ll get up and dress as soon as I can. At the moment I am feeling rather sick.”
“Are you aware, Mrs. Protheroe, that Mr. Lawrence Redding has already accused himself of committing the crime?”
Anne opened her eyes and nodded brightly.
“I know. Silly boy. He’s very much in love with me, you know. It was frightfully noble of him—but very silly.”
“He knew that it was you who had committed the crime?”
“Yes.”
“How did he know?”
She hesitated.
“Did you tell him?”
Still she hesitated. Then at last she seemed to make up her mind.
“Yes—I told him….”
She twitched her shoulders with a movement of irritation.
“Can’t you go away now? I’ve told you. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
“Where did you get the pistol, Mrs. Protheroe?”
“The pistol! Oh, it was my husband’s. I got it out of the drawer of his dressing table.”
“I see. And you took it with you to the Vicarage?”
“Yes. I knew he would be there—”
“What time was this?”
“It must have been after six—quarter—twenty past—something like that.”
“You took the pistol meaning to shoot your husband?”
“No—I—meant it for myself.”
“I see. But you went to the Vicarage?”
“Yes. I went along to the window. There were no voices. I looked in. I saw my husband. Something came over me—and I fired.”
“And then?”
“Then? Oh, then I went away.”
“And told Mr. Redding what you had done?”
Again I noticed the hesitation in her voice before she said “Yes.”
“Did anybody see you entering or leaving the Vicarage?”
“No—at least, yes. Old Miss Marple. I talked to her for a few minutes. She was in her garden.”
She moved restlessly on the pillows.
“Isn’t that enough? I’ve told you. Why do you want to go on bothering me?”
Dr. Haydock moved to her side and felt her pulse.
He beckoned to Melchett.
“I’ll stay with her,” he said in a whisper, “whilst you make the necessary arrangements. She oughtn’t to be left. Might do herself a mischief.”
Melchett nodded.
We left the room and descended the stairs. I saw a thin, cadaverous-looking man come out of the adjoining room and on impulse I remounted the stairs.
“Are you Colonel Protheroe’s valet?”
The man looked surprised. “Yes, sir.”
“Do you know whether your late master kept a pistol anywhere?”
“Not that I know of, sir.”
“Not in one of the drawers of his dressing table? Think, man.”
The valet shook his head decisively.
“I’m quite sure he didn’t, sir. I’d have seen it if so. Bound to.”
I hurried down the stairs after the others.
Mrs. Protheroe had lied about the pistol.
Why?
Nine
After leaving a message at the police station, the Chief Constable announced his intention of paying a visit to Miss Marple.
“You’d better come with me, Vicar,” he said. “I don’t want to give a member of your flock hysterics. So lend the weight of your soothing presence.”
I smiled. For all her fragile appearance, Miss Marple is capable of holding her own with any policeman or Chief Constable in existence.
“What’s she like?” asked the Colonel, as we rang the bell. “Anything she says to be depended upon or otherwise?”
I considered the matter.
“I think she is quite dependable,” I said cautiously. “That is, in so far as she is talking of what she has actually seen. Beyond that, of course, when you get on to what she thinks—well, that is another matter. She has a powerful imagination and systematically thinks the worst of everyone.”
“The typical elderly spinster, in fact,” said Melchett, with a laugh. “Well, I ought to know the breed by now. Gad, the tea parties down here!”
We were admitted by a very diminutive maid and shown into a small drawing room.
“A bit crowded,” said Colonel Melchett, looking round. “But plenty of good stuff. A lady’s room, eh, Clement?”
I agreed, and at that moment the door opened and Miss Marple made her appearance.
“Very sorry to bother you, Miss Marple,” said the Colonel, when I had introduced him, putting on his bluff military manner which he had an idea was attractive to elderly ladies. “Got to do my duty, you know.”
“Of course, of course,” said Miss Marple. “I quite understand. Won’t you sit down? And might I offer you a little glass of cherry brandy? My own making. A recipe of my grandmother’s.”
“Thank you very much, Miss Marple. Very kind of you. But I think I won’t. Nothing till lunch time, that’s my motto. Now, I want to talk to you about this sad business—very sad business indeed. Upset us all, I’m sure. Well, it seems possible that owing to the position of your house and garden, you may have been able to tell us something we want to know about yesterday evening.”
“As a matter of fact, I was in my little garden from five o’clock onwards yesterday, and, of course, from there—well, one simply cannot help seeing anything that is going on next door.”
“I understand, Miss Marple, that Mrs. Protheroe passed this way yesterday evening?”
“Yes, she did. I called out to her, and she admired my roses.”
“Could you tell us about what time that was?”
“I should say it was just a minute or two after a quarter past six. Yes, that’s right. The church clock had just chimed the quarter.”
“Very good. What happened next?”
“Well, Mrs. Protheroe said she was calling for her husband at the Vicarage so that they could go home together. She had come along the lane, you understand, and she went into the Vicarage by the back gate and across the garden.”
“She came from the lane?”
“Yes, I’ll show you.”
Full of eagerness, Miss Marple led us out into the garden and pointed out the lane that ran along by the bottom of the garden.
“The path opposite with the stile leads to the Hall,” she explained. “That was the way they were going home together. Mrs. Protheroe came from the village.”
“Perfectly, perfectly,” said Colonel Melchett. “And she went across to the Vicarage, you say?”
“Yes. I saw her turn the corner of the house. I suppose the Colonel wasn’t there yet, because she came back almost immediately, and went down the lawn to the studio—that building there. The one the Vicar lets Mr. Redding use as a studio.”
“I see. And—you didn’t hear a shot, Miss Marple?”
“I didn’t hear a
shot then,” said Miss Marple.
“But you did hear one sometime?”
“Yes, I think there was a shot somewhere in the woods. But quite five or ten minutes afterwards—and, as I say, out in the woods. At least, I think so. It couldn’t have been—surely it couldn’t have been—”
She stopped, pale with excitement.
“Yes, yes, we’ll come to all that presently,” said Colonel Melchett. “Please go on with your story. Mrs. Protheroe went down to the studio?”
“Yes, she went inside and waited. Presently Mr. Redding came along the lane from the village. He came to the Vicarage gate, looked all round—”
“And saw you, Miss Marple.”
“As a matter of fact, he didn’t see me,” said Miss Marple, flushing slightly. “Because, you see, just at that minute I was bending right over—trying to get up one of those nasty dandelions, you know. So difficult. And then he went through the gate and down to the studio.”
“He didn’t go near the house?”
“Oh, no! He went straight to the studio. Mrs. Protheroe came to the door to meet him, and then they both went inside.”
Here Miss Marple contributed a singularly eloquent pause.
“Perhaps she was sitting for him?” I suggested.
“Perhaps,” said Miss Marple.
“And they came out—when?”
“About ten minutes later.”
“That was roughly?”
“The church clock had chimed the half hour. They strolled out through the garden gate and along the lane, and just at that minute, Dr. Stone came down the path leading to the Hall, and climbed over the stile and joined them. They all walked towards the village together. At the end of the lane, I think, but I can’t be quite sure, they were joined by Miss Cram. I think it must have been Miss Cram because her skirts were so short.”
“You must have very good eyesight, Miss Marple, if you can observe as far as that.”
“I was observing a bird,” said Miss Marple. “A golden crested wren, I think he was. A sweet little fellow. I had my glasses out, and that’s how I happened to see Miss Cram (if it was Miss Cram, and I think so), join them.”
“Ah! Well, that may be so,” said Colonel Melchett. “Now, since you seem very good at observing, did you happen to notice, Miss Marple, what sort of expression Mrs. Protheroe and Mr. Redding had as they passed along the lane?”
