'Hangs together quite well. And the next?'
'Miss Hinchliffe. Says she wasn't there at all lately. But she was. Because Mitzi saw her coming out of the side door one day and so did a Mrs. Butt (she's one of the locals). Miss H. then admitted she might have been there but had forgotten. Can't remember what she went for. Says she probably just dropped in.'
'That's rather odd.'
'So was her manner, apparently. Then there's Mrs. Easterbrook. She was exercising the dear dogs out that way and she just popped in to see if Miss Blacklog would lend her a knitting pattern but Miss Blacklog wasn't in. She says she waited a little.'
'Just so. Might be snooping round. Or might be oiling a door. And the Colonel?'
'Went there one day with a book on India that Miss Blacklog had expressed a desire to read.'
'Had she?'
'Her account is that she tried to get out of having to read it, but it was no use.'
'And that's fair enough,' sighed Craddock. 'If anyone is really determined to lend you a book, you never can get out of it!'
'We don't know if Edmund Swettenham was up there. He's extremely vague. Said he did drop in occasionally on errands for his mother, but thinks not lately.'
'In fact, it's all inconclusive.'
'Yes.'
Rydesdale said, with a slight grin: 'Miss Marple has also been active. Fletcher reports that she had morning coffee at the Bluebird. She's been to sherry at Boulders, and to tea at Little Paddocks. She's admired Mrs. Swettenham's garden – and dropped in to see Colonel Easterbrook's Indian curios.'
'She may be able to tell us if Colonel Easterbrook's a pukka Colonel or not.'
'She'd know, I agree – he seems all right. We'd have to check with the Far Eastern Authorities to get certain identification.'
'And in the meantime ' – Craddock broke off – 'do you think Miss Blacklog would consent to go away?'
'Go away from Chipping Cleghorn?'
'Yes. Take the faithful Bunner with her, perhaps, and leave for an unknown destination. Why shouldn't she go up to Scotland and stay with Belle Goedler. It's a pretty unget-at-able place.'
'Stop there and wait for her to die? I don't think she'd do that. I don't think any nice-natured woman would like that suggestion.'
'If it's a matter of saving her life-'
'Come now, Craddock, it isn't quite so easy to bump someone off as you seem to think.'
'Isn't it, sir?'
'Well – in one way – it's easy enough I agree. Plenty of methods. Weed-killer. A bash on the head when she's out shutting up the poultry, a pot shot from behind a hedge. All quite simple. But to bump someone off and not be suspected of bumping them off – that's not quite so easy. And they must realise by now that they're all under observation. The original carefully planned scheme failed. Our unknown murderer has got to think up something else.'
'I know that, sir. But there's the time element to consider. Mrs. Goedler's a dying woman – she might pop off any minute. That means that our murderer can't afford to wait.'
'True.'
'And another thing, sir. He – or she – must know that we're checking up on everybody.'
'And that takes time,' said Rydesdale with a sigh. 'It means checking with the East, with India. Yes, it's a long tedious business.'
'So that's another reason for hurry. I'm sure, sir, that the danger is very real. It's a very large sum that's at stake. If Belle Goedler dies-'
He broke off as a constable entered.
'Constable Legg on the line from Chipping Cleghorn, sir.'
'Put him through here.'
Inspector Craddock, watching the Chief Constable, saw his features harden and stiffen.
'Very good,' barked Rydesdale. 'Detective-Inspector Craddock will be coming out immediately.'
He put the receiver down.
'Is it-' Craddock broke off.
Rydesdale shook his head.
'No,' he said. 'It's Dora Bunner. She wanted some aspirin. Apparently she took some from a bottle beside Letitia Blacklog's bed. There were only a few tablets left in the bottle. She took two and left one. The doctor's got that one and is sending it to be analysed. He says it's definitely not aspirin.'
'She's dead?'
'Yes, found dead in her bed this morning. Died in her sleep, doctor says. He doesn't think it was natural though her health was in a bad state. Narcotic poisoning, that's his guess. Autopsy's fixed for tonight.'
'Aspirin tablets by Letitia Blacklog's bed. The clever clever devil. Patrick told me Miss Blacklog threw away a half bottle of sherry – opened a new one. I don't suppose she'd have thought of doing that with an open bottle of aspirin. Who had been in the house this time – within the last day or two? The tablets can't have been there long.'
Rydesdale looked at him.
'All our lot were there yesterday,' he said. 'Birthday party for Miss Bunner. Any of them could have nipped upstairs and done a neat little substitution. Or of course anyone living in the house could have done it any time.'
Chapter 17
THE ALBUM
Standing by the Vicarage gate, well wrapped up, Miss Marple took the note from Bunch's hand.
'Tell Miss Blacklog,' said Bunch, 'that Julian is terribly sorry he can't come up himself. He's got a parishioner dying out at Locke Hamlet. He'll come up after lunch if Miss Blacklog would like to see him. The note's about the arrangements for the funeral. He suggests Wednesday if the inquest's on Tuesday. Poor old Bunny. It's so typical of her, somehow, to get hold of poisoned aspirin meant for someone else. Goodbye, darling. I hope the walk won't be too much for you. But I've simply got to get that child to the hospital at once.'
Miss Marple said the walk wouldn't be too much for her, and Bunch rushed off.
Whilst waiting for Miss Blacklog, Miss Marple looked round the drawing-room, and wondered just exactly what Dora Bunner had meant that morning in the Bluebird by saying that she believed Patrick had 'tampered with the lamp' to 'make the lights go out.' What lamp? And how had he 'tampered' with it?
She must, Miss Marple decided, have meant the small lamp that stood on the table by the archway. She had said something about a shepherdess or a shepherd – and this was actually a delicate piece of Dresden china, a shepherd in a blue coat and pink breeches holding what had originally been a candlestick and had now been adapted to electricity. The shade was of plain vellum and a little too big so that it almost masked the figure.
What else was it that Dora Bunner had said? 'I remember distinctly that it was the shepherdess. And the next day-' Certainly it was a shepherd now.
Miss Marple remembered that when she and Bunch had come to tea, Dora Bunner had said something about the lamp being one of a pair. Of course – a shepherd and a shepherdess. And it had been the shepherdess on the day of the hold-up – and the next morning it had been the other lamp – the lamp that was here now, the shepherd. The lamps had been changed over during the night. And Dora Bunner had had reason to believe (or had believed without reason) that it was Patrick who had changed them.
Why? Because, if the original lamp were examined, it would show just how Patrick had managed to 'make the lights go out.' How had he managed? Miss Marple looked earnestly at the lamp in front of her. The flex ran along the table over the edge and was plugged into the wall. There was a small pear-shaped switch halfway along
