'That,' he said, 'is, I believe, common knowledge.'
'She was such a beautiful creature,' said Miss Marple gently. 'She had such a wonderful gift. She had a great power of love and hate but no stability. That's what's so sad for anyone, to be born with no stability. She couldn't let the past go and she could never see the future as it really was, only as she imagined it to be. She was a great actress and a beautiful and very unhappy woman. What a wonderful Mary, Queen of Scots, she was! I shall never forget her.'
Sergeant Tiddler appeared suddenly on the stairs.
'Sir,' he said, 'can I speak to you a moment?'
Craddock turned.
'I'll be back,' he said to Jason Rudd, then he went towards the stairs.
'Remember,' Miss Marple called after him, 'poor Arthur Badcock had nothing to do with this. He came to the fete because he wanted to have a glimpse of the girl he had married long ago. I should say she didn't even recognize him. Did she?' she asked Jason Rudd.
Jason Rudd shook his head.
'I don't think so. She certainly never said anything to me. I don't think,' he added thoughtfully, 'she would recognize him.'
'Probably not,' said Miss Marple. 'Anyway,' she added, 'he's quite innocent of wanting to kill her or anything of that kind. Remember that,' she added to Dermot Craddock as he went down the stairs.
'He's not been in any real danger, I can assure you,' said Craddock, 'but of course when we found out that he had actually been Miss Marina Gregg's first husband we naturally had to question him on the point. Don't worry about him, Aunt Jane,' he added in a low murmur, then he hurried down the stairs.
Miss Marple turned to Jason Rudd. He was standing there like a man in a daze, his eyes far away.
'Would you allow me to see her?' said Miss Marple.
He considered her for a moment or two, then he nodded.
'Yes, you can see her. You seem to – understand her very well.'
He turned and Miss Marple followed him. He preceded her into the big bedroom and drew the curtains slightly aside.
Marina Gregg lay in the great white shell of the bed – her eyes closed, her hands folded.
So, Miss Marple thought, might the Lady of Shalott have lain in the boat that carried her down to Camelot. And there, standing musing, was a man with a rugged, ugly face, who might pass as a Lancelot of a later day.
Miss Marple said gently, 'It's very fortunate for her that she – took an overdose. Death was really the only way of escape left to her. Yes – very fortunate she took that overdose – or – was given it?'
His eyes met hers, but he did not speak.
He said brokenly, 'She was – so lovely – and she had suffered so much.'
Miss Marple looked back again at the still figure.
She quoted softly the last lines of the poem:
