'Of course I haven't seen anyone to speak to this morning,' said Cherry, 'not before coming along here. I expect the news has only just got round. Was he bumped off?' she demanded.
'That seems to be assumed,' said Miss Marple, 'whether rightly or wrongly I don't quite know.'
'This is a wonderful place for talk,' said Cherry. 'I wonder if Gladys got to see him or not,' she added thoughtfully.
'Gladys?'
'Oh, a sort of friend of mine. She lives a few doors away. Works in the canteen at the studios.'
'And she talked to you about Giuseppe?'
'Well, there was something that struck her as a bit funny and she was going to ask him what he thought about it. But if you ask me it was just an excuse – she's a bit sweet on him. Of course he's quite handsome and Italians do have a way with them – I told her to be careful about him, though. You know what Italians are.'
'He went to London yesterday,' said Miss Marple, 'and only returned in the evening I understand.'
'I wonder if she managed to get to see him before he went.'
'Why did she want to see him, Cherry?'
'It was just something which she felt was a bit funny,' said Cherry.
Miss Marple looked at her inquiringly. She was able to take the word 'funny' at the valuation it usually had for the Gladyses of the neighbourhood.
'She was one of the girls who helped at the party there,' explained Cherry. 'The day of the fete. You know, when Mrs Badcock got hers.'
'Yes?' Miss Marple was looking more alert than ever, much as a fox terrier might look at a waiting rat- hole.
'And there was something that she saw that struck her as a bit funny.'
'Why didn't she go to the police about it?'
'Well, she didn't really think it meant anything, you see,' explained Cherry. 'Anyway she thought she'd better ask Mr Giuseppe first.'
'What was it that she saw that day?'
'Frankly,' said Cherry, 'what she told me seemed nonsense! I've wondered, perhaps, if she was just putting me off – and what she was going to see Mr Giuseppe about was something quite different.'
'What did she say?' Miss Marple was patient and pursuing.
Cherry frowned. 'She was talking about Mrs Badcock and the cocktail and she said she was quite near her at the time. And she said she did it herself.'
'Did what herself?'
'Spilt her cocktail all down her dress, and ruined it.'
'You mean it was clumsiness?'
'No, not clumsiness. Gladys said she did it on purpose – that she meant to do it. Well, I mean, that doesn't make sense, does it, however you look at it?'
Miss Marple shook her head, perplexed. 'No,' she said. 'Certainly not – no, I can't see any sense in that.'
'She'd got on a new dress too,' said Cherry. 'That's how the subject came up. Gladys wondered whether she'd be able to buy it. Said it ought to clean all right but she didn't like to go and ask Mr Badcock herself. She's very good at dressmaking, Gladys is, and she said it was lovely stuff. Royal blue taffeta; and she said even if the stuff was ruined where the cocktail stained it, she could take out a seam – half a breadth say – because it was one of those full skirts.'
Miss Marple considered this dressmaking problem for a moment and then set it aside.
'But you think your friend Gladys might have been keeping something back?'
'Well, I just wondered because I don't see if that's all she saw – Heather Badcock deliberately spilling her cocktail over herself – I don't see that there'd be anything to ask Mr Giuseppe about, do you?'
'No, I don't,' said Miss Marple. She sighed. 'But it's always interesting when one doesn't see,' she added. 'If you don't see what a thing means you must be looking at it wrong way round, unless of course you haven't got full information. Which is probably the case here.' She sighed. 'It's a pity she didn't go straight to the police.'
The door opened and Miss Knight bustled in holding a tall tumbler with a delicious pale yellow froth on top.
'Now here you are, dear,' she said, 'a nice little treat. We're going to enjoy this.'
She pulled forward a little table and placed it beside her employer. Then she turned a glance on Cherry. 'The vacuum cleaner,' she said coldly, 'is left in a most difficult position in the hall. I nearly fell over it. Anyone might have an accident.'
'Right-ho,' said Cherry. 'I'd better get on with things.'
She left the room.
'Really,' said Miss Knight, 'that Mrs Baker! I'm continually having to speak to her about something or other. Leaving vacuum cleaners all over the place and coming in here chattering to you when you want to be quiet.'
'I called her in,' said Miss Marple. 'I wanted to speak to her.'
'Well, I hope you mentioned the way the beds are made,' said Miss Knight. 'I was quite shocked when I came to turn down your bed last night. I had to make it all over again.'
'That was very kind of you,' said Miss Marple.
'Oh, I never grudge being helpful,' said Miss Knight. 'That's why I'm here, isn't it. To make a certain person we know as comfortable and happy as possible. Oh dear, dear,' she added, 'you've pulled out a lot of your knitting again.'
Miss Marple leaned back and closed her eyes. 'I'm going to have a little rest,' she said. 'Put the glass here – thank you. And please don't come in and disturb me for at least three-quarters of an hour.'
'Indeed I won't, dear,' said Miss Knight. 'And I'll tell that Mrs Baker to be very quiet.'
She bustled out purposefully.
II
The good-looking young American glanced round him in a puzzled way.
The ramifications of the housing estate perplexed him.
He addressed himself politely to an old lady with white hair and pink cheeks who seemed to be the only human being in sight.
'Excuse me, m'am, but could you tell me where to find Blenheim Close?'
The old lady considered him for a moment. He had just begun to wonder if she was deaf, and had prepared himself to repeat his demand in a louder voice, when she spoke.
'Along here to the right, then turn left, second to the right again, and straight on. What number do you want?'
'No. 16.' He consulted a small piece of paper. 'Gladys Dixon.'
'That's right,' said the old lady. 'But I believe she works at the Hellingforth Studios. In the canteen. You'll find her there if you want her.'
'She didn't turn up this morning,' explained the young man. 'I want to get hold of her to come up to Gossington Hall. We're very shorthanded there today.'
'Of course,' said the old lady. 'The butler was shot last night, wasn't he?'
The young man was slightly staggered by this reply.
'I guess news gets round pretty quickly in these parts,' he said.
'It does indeed,' said the old lady. 'Mr Rudd's secretary died of some kind of seizure yesterday, too, I understand.' She shook her head. 'Terrible. Quite terrible. What are we coming to?'
