They went out. Owen stood like a man in a dream.
I waited a bit, then I came up to him.
'If there's anything I can do, Griffith, tell me.'
He said like a man in a dream, 'Aimee? I don't believe it.'
'It may be a mistake,' I suggested feebly.
He said slowly, 'She wouldn't take it like that if it were. But I would never have believed it. I can't believe it.'
He sank down on a chair. I made myself useful by finding a stiff drink and bringing it to him. He swallowed it down and it seemed to do him good.
He said, 'I couldn't take it in at first. I'm all right now. Thanks, Burton, but there's nothing you can do. Nothing anyone can do.'
The door opened and Joanna came in. She was very white.
She came over to Owen and looked at me.
She said, 'Get out, Jerry. This is my business.'
As I went out of the door, I saw her kneel down by his chair.
Chapter 8
I can't tell you coherently the events of the next twenty-four hours. Various incidents stand out, unrelated to other incidents.
I remember Joanna coming home, very white and drawn and of how I tried to cheer her up, saying:
'Now who's being a ministering angel?'
And of how she smiled in a pitiful twisted way and said, 'He says he won't have me, Jerry. He's very very proud and stiff!'
And I said, 'My girl won't have me either… '
We sat there for a while, Joanna saying at last, 'The Burton family isn't exactly in demand at the moment!'
I said, 'Never mind, my sweet, we still have each other,' and Joanna said, 'Somehow or other, Jerry, that doesn't comfort me much just now… '
Owen came the next day and rhapsodized in the most fulsome way about Joanna. She was wonderful, marvelous!
The way she'd come to him, the way she was willing to marry him – at once if he liked. But he wasn't going to let her do that. No – she was too good, too fine to be associated with the kind of muck that would start as soon as the papers got hold of the news.
I was fond of Joanna, and knew she was the kind who's all right when standing by in trouble, but I got rather bored with all this highfalutin' stuff. I told Owen rather irritably not to be so damned noble.
I went down to the High Street and found everybody's tongue wagging nineteen to the dozen. Emily Barton was saying that she had never really trusted Aimee Griffith. The grocer's wife was saying with gusto that she'd always thought Miss Griffith had a queer look in her eye.
They had completed the case against Aimee, so I learned from Nash. A search of the house had brought to light the cut pages of Emily Barton's book – in the cupboard under the stairs, of all places, wrapped up in an old roll of wallpaper.
'And a jolly good place too,' said Nash appreciatively. 'You never know when a prying servant won't tamper with a desk or a locked drawer – but those junk cupboards full of last year's tennis balls and old wallpaper are never opened except to shove something more in.'
'The lady would seem to have had a penchant for that particular hiding place,' I said.
'Yes. The criminal mind seldom has much variety. By the way, talking of the dead girl, we've got one fact to go upon: There's a large heavy pestle missing from the doctor's dispensary. I'll bet anything you like that's what she was stunned with.'
'Rather an awkward thing to carry about,' I objected.
'Not for Miss Griffith. She was going to the Guides that afternoon, but she was going to leave flowers and vegetables at the Red Cross stall on the way, so she'd got a whopping great basket with her.'
'You haven't found the skewer?'
'No, and I shan't. The poor devil may be mad, but she wasn't mad enough to keep a bloodstained skewer just to make it easy for us, when all she'd got to do was to wash it and return it to a kitchen drawer.'
'I suppose,' I conceded, 'that you can't have everything.'
The vicarage had been one of the last places to hear the news. Old Miss Marple was very much distressed by it. She spoke to me very earnestly on the subject:
'It isn't true, Mr. Burton. I'm sure it isn't true.'
'It's true enough, I'm afraid. They were lying in wait, you know. They actually saw her type that letter.'
'Yes, yes – perhaps they did. Yes, I can understand that.'
'And the printed pages from which the letters were cut were found where she'd hidden them in her house.'
Miss Marple stared at me. Then she said, in a very low voice, 'But that is horrible – really wicked.'
Mrs. Dane Calthrop came up with a rush and joined us and said, 'What's the matter, Jane?'
Miss Marple was murmuring helplessly, 'Oh, dear, oh, dear, what can one do?'
'What's upset you, Jane?'
Miss Marple said, 'There must be something. But I am so old and so ignorant and, I am afraid, so foolish.'
I felt rather embarrassed and was glad when Mrs. Dane Calthrop took her friend away.
I was to see Miss Marple again that afternoon, however. Much later when I was on my way home.
She was standing near the little bridge at the end of the village, near Mrs. Cleat's cottage, and talking to Megan, of all people.
I wanted to see Megan. I had been wanting to see her all day. I quickened my pace. But as I came up to them, Megan turned on her heel and went off in the other direction.
It made me angry and I would have followed her, but Miss Marple blocked my way.
'I wanted to speak to you,' she said. 'No, don't go after Megan now. It wouldn't be wise.'
I was just going to make a sharp rejoinder when she disarmed me by saying, 'That girl has great courage – a very high order of courage.'
I still wanted to go after Megan, but Miss Marple said, 'Don't try and see her now. I do know what I am talking about. She must keep her courage intact.'
There was something about the old lady's assertion that chilled me. It was as though she knew something that I didn't.
I was afraid and didn't know why I was afraid.
I didn't go home. I went back into the High Street and walked up and down aimlessly. I don't know what I was waiting for, nor what I was thinking about…
I got caught by that awful old bore Colonel Appleby. He asked after my pretty sister as usual and then went on:
'What's all this about Griffith 's sister being mad as a hatter? They say she's been at the bottom of this anonymous letter business that's been such a confounded nuisance to everybody? Couldn't believe it at first, but they say it's quite true.'
I said it was true enough.
'Well, well – I must say our police force is pretty good on the whole. Give 'em time, that's all, give ' em time. Funny business this anonymous letter stunt – these desiccated old women are always the ones who go in for it – though the Griffith woman wasn't bad-looking even if she was a bit long in the tooth. But there aren't any decent- looking girls in this part of the world – except that governess girl of the Symmingtons. She's worth looking at. Pleasant girl, too. Grateful if one does any little thing for her.
