she said sharply. 'Don't worry. And above all don't go starting a lot of silly rumours.'
Tim Kendal came in, just as Victoria was, somewhat unwillingly, leaving. 'Anything wrong, Molly?'
She hesitated – but Victoria might go to him. She told him what the girl had said.
'I don't see what all this rigmarole – what were these pills anyway?'
'Well, I don't really know, Tim. Dr. Robertson when he came said they were something to do with blood pressure, I think.'
'Well, that would be all right, wouldn't it? I mean, he had high blood pressure, and he would be taking things for it, wouldn't he? People do. I've seen them, lots of times.'
'Yes,' Molly hesitated, 'but Victoria seemed to think that he might have taken one of these pills and it would have killed him.'
'Oh darling, that is a bit too melodramatic! You mean that somebody might have changed his blood pressure pills for something else, and that they poisoned him?'
'It does sound absurd,' said Molly apologetically, 'when you say it like that. But that seemed to be what Victoria thought!'
'Silly girl! We could go and ask Dr. Graham about it, I suppose he'd know. But really it's such nonsense that it's not worth bothering him.'
'That's what I think.'
'What on earth made the girl think anybody would have changed the pills. You mean, put different pills into the same bottle?'
'I didn't quite gather,' said Molly, looking rather helpless. ' Victoria seemed to think that was the first time that Serenite bottle had been there.'
'Oh but that's nonsense,' said Tim Kendal. 'He had to take those pills all the time to keep his blood pressure down.' And he went off cheerfully to consult with Fernando the maitre d'hotel. But Molly could not dismiss the matter so lightly. After the stress of lunch was over she said to her husband: 'Tim I've been thinking. If Victoria is going around talking about this perhaps we ought just to ask someone about it?'
'My dear girl! Robertson and all the rest of them came and looked at everything and asked all the questions they wanted at the time.'
'Yes, but you know how they work themselves up, these girls-'
'Oh, all right! I'll tell you what – we'll go and ask Graham – he'll know.'
Dr. Graham was sitting on his loggia with a book. The young couple came in and Molly plunged into her recital. It was a little incoherent and Tim took over. 'Sounds rather idiotic,' he said apologetically, 'but as far as I can make out, this girl has got it into her head that someone put some poison tablets in the – what's the name of the stuff – Sera-something bottle.'
'But why should she get this idea into her head?' asked Dr. Graham. 'Did she see anything or hear anything or- I mean, why should she think so?'
'I don't know,' said Tim rather helplessly.
''Was it a different bottle? Was that it, Molly?'
'No,' said Molly. 'I think what she said was that there was a bottle there labeled- Seven-Seren-'
'Serenite,' said the doctor. 'That's quite right. A well-known preparation. He'd been taking it regularly.'
' Victoria said she'd never seen it in his room before.'
'Never seen it in his room before?' said Graham sharply. 'What does she mean by that?'
'Well, that's what she said. She said there were all sorts of things on the bathroom shelf. You know, tooth powder, aspirin and aftershave and- oh- she rattled them off gaily. I suppose she's always cleaning them and so she knows them all off by heart. But this one – the Serenite – she hadn't seen it here until the day after he died.'
'That's very odd,' said Dr. Graham, rather sharply. 'Is she sure?'
The unusual sharpness of his tone made both of the Kendals look at him. They had not expected Dr. Graham to take up quite this attitude.
'She sounded sure,' said Molly slowly.
'Perhaps she just wanted to be sensational,' suggested Tim.
'I think perhaps,' said Dr. Graham, 'I'd better have a few words with the girl myself.'
Victoria displayed a distinct pleasure at being allowed to tell her story.
'I don't want to get in no trouble,' she said. 'I didn't put that bottle there and I don't know who did.'
'But you think it was put there?' asked Graham.
'Well, you see. Doctor, it must have been put there if it wasn't there before.'
'Major Palgrave could have kept it in a drawer – or a dispatch-case, something like that.'
Victoria shook her head shrewdly. 'Wouldn't do that if he was taking it all the time, would he?'
'No,' said Graham reluctantly. 'No, it was stuff he would have to take several times a day. You never saw him taking it or anything of that kind?'
'He didn't have it there before. I just thought – word got round as that stuff had something to do with his death, poisoned his blood or something, and I thought maybe he had an enemy who put it there so as to kill him.'
'Nonsense, my girl,' said the doctor robustly. 'Sheer nonsense.'
Victoria looked shaken.
'You say as this stuff was medicine, good medicine?' she asked doubtfully.
'Good medicine, and what is more, necessary medicine,' said Dr. Graham. 'So you needn't worry, Victoria. I can assure you there was nothing wrong with that medicine. It was the proper thing for a man to take who had his complaint.'
'Surely you've taken a load off my mind,' said Victoria. She showed white teeth at him in a cheerful smile. But the load was not taken off Dr. Graham's mind. That uneasiness of his that had been so nebulous was now becoming tangible.
Chapter 8
A TALK WITH ESTHER WALTERS
'This place isn't what it used to be,' said Mr. Rafiel, irritably, as he observed Miss Marple approaching the spot where he and his secretary were sitting. 'Can't move a step without some old hen getting under your feet. What do old ladies want to come to the West Indies for?'
'Where do you suggest they should go?' asked Esther Walters.
'To Cheltenham,' said Mr. Rafiel promptly. 'Or Bournemouth,' he offered, 'or Torquay or Llandrindod Wells. Plenty of choice. They like it there – they're quite happy.'
'They can't often afford to come to the West Indies, I suppose,' said Esther. 'It isn't everyone who is as lucky as you are.'
'That's right,' said Mr. Rafiel. 'Rub it in. Here am I, a mass of aches and pains and disjoints. You grudge me any alleviation! And you don't do any work. Why haven't you typed out those letters yet?'
'I haven't had time.'
'Well, get on with it, can't you? I bring you out here to do a bit of work, not to sit about sunning yourself and showing off your figure.'
Some people would have considered Mr. Rafiel's remarks quite insupportable but Esther Walters had worked for him for some years and she knew well enough that Mr. Rafiel's bark was a great deal worse than his bite. He was a man who suffered almost continual pain, and making disagreeable remarks was one of his ways of letting off steam. No matter what he said she remained quite imperturbable.
'Such a lovely evening, isn't it?' said Miss Marple, pausing beside them.
'Why not?' said Mr. Rafiel. 'That's what we're here for, isn't it?'
Miss Marple gave a tinkly little laugh. 'You're so severe – of course the weather is a very English subject of conversation – one forgets- Oh dear, this is the wrong coloured wool.' She deposited her knitting bag on the garden
