practically never used this time of year.'
'Do I hang the key up outside the door again? Is that where it's kept?'
'Yes. There's nothing to pinch here, you see. Nobody would want those awful marble things and, anyway, they weigh a ton.'
Lucy agreed with him. She could hardly admire old Mr. Crackenthorpe's taste in art. He seemed to have an unerring instinct for selecting the worst specimen of any period.
She stood looking round her after the boys had gone. Her eyes came to rest on the sarcophagus and stayed there.
That sarcophagus…
The air in the barn was faintly musty as though unaired for a long time. She went over to the sarcophagus. It had a heavy close-fitting lid. Lucy looked at it speculatively.
Then she left the barn, went to the kitchen, found a heavy crowbar, and returned.
It was not an easy task, but Lucy toiled doggedly.
Slowly the lid began to rise, prised up by the crowbar.
It rose sufficiently for Lucy to see what was inside…
Chapter 6
I
A few minutes later Lucy, rather pale, left the barn, locked the door and put the key back on the nail.
She went rapidly to the stables, got out her car and drove down the back drive. She stopped at the post office at the end of the road. She went into the telephone box, put in the money and dialled.
'I want to speak to Miss Marple.'
'She's resting, miss. It's Miss Eyelesbarrow, isn't it?'
'Yes.'
'I'm not going to disturb her and that's flat, miss. She's an old lady and she needs her rest.'
'You must disturb her. It's urgent.'
'I'm not –'
'Please do what I say at once.'
When she chose, Lucy's voice could be as incisive as steel. Florence knew authority when she heard it.
Presently Miss Marple's voice spoke.
'Yes, Lucy?'
Lucy drew a deep breath.
'You were quite right,' she said. 'I've found it.'
'A woman's body?'
'Yes. A woman in a fur coat. It's in a stone sarcophagus in a kind of barn-museum near the house. What do you want me to do? I ought to inform the police, I think.'
'Yes. You must inform the police. At once.'
'But what about the rest of it? About you? The first thing they'll want to know is why I was prying up a lid that weighs tons for apparently no reason. Do you want me to invent a reason? I can.'
'No. I think, you know,' said Miss Marple in her gentle serious voice, 'that the only thing to do is to tell the exact truth.'
'About you?'
'About everything.'
A sudden grin split the whiteness of Lucy's face.
'That will be quite simple for me,' she said. 'But I imagine they'll find it quite hard to believe!'
She rang off, waited a moment, and then rang and got the police station.
'I have just discovered a dead body in a sarcophagus in the Long Barn at Rutherford Hall.'
'What's that?'
Lucy repeated her statement and anticipating the next question gave her name.
She drove back, put the car away and entered the house.
She paused in the hall for a moment, thinking.
Then she gave a brief sharp nod of her head and went to the library where Miss Crackenthorpe was sitting helping her father to do The Times crossword.
'Can I speak to you a moment, Miss Crackenthorpe?'
Emma looked up, a shade of apprehension on her face. The apprehension was, Lucy thought, purely domestic. In such words do useful household staff announce their imminent departure.
'Well, speak up, girl, speak up,' said old Mr. Crackenthorpe irritably.
Lucy said to Emma:
'I'd like to speak to you alone, please.'
'Nonsense,' said Mr. Crackenthorpe. 'You say straight out here what you've got to say.'
'Just a moment. Father.' Emma rose and went towards the door.
'All nonsense. It can wait,' said the old man angrily.
'I'm afraid it can't wait,' said Lucy.
Mr. Crackenthorpe said, 'What impertinence!'
Emma came out into the hall, Lucy followed her and shut the door behind them.
'Yes?' said Emma. 'What is it? If you think there's too much to do with the boys here, I can help you and –'
'It's not that at all,' said Lucy. 'I didn't want to speak before your father because I understand he is an invalid and it might give him a shock. You see, I've just discovered the body of a murdered woman in that big sarcophagus in the Long Barn.'
Emma Crackenthorpe stared at her.
'In the sarcophagus? A murdered woman? It's impossible!'
'I'm afraid it's quite true. I've rung up the police. They will be here at any minute.'
A slight flush came into Emma's cheek.
'You should have told me first – before notifying the police.'
'I'm sorry,' said Lucy.
'I didn't hear you ring up –' Emma's glance went to the telephone on the hall table.
'I rang up from the post office just down the road.'
'But how extraordinary. Why not from here?'
Lucy thought quickly.
'I was afraid the boys might be about – might hear – if I rang up from the hall here.'
'I see… Yes… I see… They are coming – the police, I mean?'
'They're here now,' said Lucy, as with a squeal of brakes a car drew up at the front door and the front-door bell pealed through the house.
II
'I'm sorry, very sorry – to have asked this of you,' said Inspector Bacon.
His hand under her arm, he led Emma Crackenthorpe out of the barn. Emma's face was very pale, she looked sick, but she walked firmly erect.
