寓所谜案11

Ten

His remarks on the subject of Miss Marple as we left the house were farfrom complimentary¹.

“I really believe that wizened-up old maid thinks she knows everythingthere is to know. And hardly been out of this village all her life. Preposter-ous. What can she know of life?”

I said mildly that though doubtless Miss Marple knew next to nothing ofLife with a capital L, she knew practically everything that went on in St.

Mary Mead².

Melchett admitted that grudgingly³. She was a valuable witness—particu-larly valuable from Mrs. Protheroe’s point of view.

“I suppose there’s no doubt about what she says, eh?”

“If Miss Marple says she had no pistol with her, you can take it for gran-ted that it is so,” I said. “If there was the least possibility of such a thing,Miss Marple would have been on to it like a knife.”

“That’s true enough. We’d better go and have a look at the studio.”

The so-called studio was a mere⁴ rough shed with a skylight. There wereno windows and the door was the only means of entrance or egress⁵. Satis-fied on this score, Melchett announced his intention of visiting the Vicar-age with the Inspector⁶.

“I’m going to the police station now.”

As I entered through the front door, a murmur⁷ of voices caught my ear.

I opened the drawing room door.

On the sofa beside Griselda, conversing⁸ animatedly⁹, sat Miss GladysCram. Her legs, which were encased in particularly shiny pink stockings,were crossed, and I had every opportunity of observing that she wore pinkstriped silk knickers.

“Hullo, Len,” said Griselda.

“Good morning, Mr. Clement¹¹,” said Miss Cram¹⁰. “Isn’t the news about theColonel really too awful? Poor old gentleman.”

“Miss Cram,” said my wife, “very kindly¹² came in to offer to help us withthe Guides. We asked for helpers last Sunday, you remember.”

I did remember, and I was convinced, and so, I knew from her tone, wasGriselda, that the idea of enrolling¹³ herself among them would never haveoccurred to Miss Cram but for the exciting incident which had taken placeat the Vicarage.

“I was only just saying to Mrs. Clement,” went on Miss Cram, “you couldhave struck me all of a heap when I heard the news. A murder? I said. Inthis quiet one-horse village—for quiet it is, you must admit—not so muchas a picture house, and as for Talkies! And then when I heard it was Col-onel Protheroe—why, I simply couldn’t believe it. He didn’t seem the kind,somehow, to get murdered.”

“And so,” said Griselda, “Miss Cram came round to find out all about it.”

I feared this plain speaking might offend the lady, but she merely flungher head back and laughed uproariously, showing every tooth she pos-sessed.

“That’s too bad. You’re a sharp one, aren’t you, Mrs. Clement? But it’sonly natural, isn’t it, to want to hear the ins and outs of a case like this?

And I’m sure I’m willing enough to help with the Guides in any way youlike. Exciting, that’s what it is. I’ve been stagnating¹⁴ for a bit of fun. I have,really I have. Not that my job isn’t a very good one, well paid, and Dr.

Stone quite the gentleman in every way. But a girl wants a bit of life out ofoffice hours, and except for you, Mrs. Clement, who is there in the place totalk to except a lot of old cats?”

“There’s Lettice Protheroe,” I said.

Gladys Cram tossed her head.

“She’s too high and mighty¹⁵ for the likes of me. Fancies herself the coun-try, and wouldn’t demean herself by noticing a girl who had to work forher living. Not but what I did hear her talking of earning her living her-self. And who’d employ her, I should like to know? Why, she’d be fired inless than a week. Unless she went as one of those mannequins, all dressedup and sidling about. She could do that, I expect.”

“She’d make a very good mannequin,” said Griselda. “She’s got such alovely figure.” There’s nothing of the cat about Griselda. “When was shetalking of earning her own living?”

Miss Cram seemed momentarily discomfited¹⁶, but recovered herself withher usual archness.

“That would be telling, wouldn’t it?” she said. “But she did say so. Thingsnot very happy at home, I fancy. Catch me living at home with a step-mother. I wouldn’t sit down under it for a minute.”

“Ah! but you’re so high spirited and independent,” said Griselda gravely,and I looked at her with suspicion.

Miss Cram was clearly pleased.

“That’s right. That’s me all over. Can be led, not driven. A palmist toldme that not so very long ago. No. I’m not one to sit down and be bullied¹⁷.

And I’ve made it clear all along to Dr. Stone that I must have my regulartimes off. These scientific gentlemen, they think a girl’s a kind of machine— half the time they just don’t notice her or remember she’s there. Ofcourse, I don’t know much about it,” confessed the girl.

“Do you find Dr. Stone pleasant to work with? It must be an interestingjob if you are interested in archaeology¹⁸.”

“It still seems to me that digging up people that are dead and have beendead for hundreds of years isn’t—well, it seems a bit nosy¹⁹, doesn’t it? Andthere’s Dr. Stone so wrapped up in it all, that half the time he’d forget hismeals if it wasn’t for me.”

“Is he at the barrow this morning?” asked Griselda.

Miss Cram shook her head.

“A bit under the weather this morning,” she explained. “Not up to doingany work. That means a holiday for little Gladys.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“Oh! It’s nothing much. There’s not going to be a second death. But dotell me, Mr. Clement, I hear you’ve been with the police all morning. Whatdo they think?”

“Well,” I said slowly, “there is still a little—uncertainty.”

“Ah!” cried Miss Cram. “Then they don’t think it is Mr. Lawrence Red-ding after all. So handsome, isn’t he? Just like a movie star. And such anice smile when he says good morning to you. I really couldn’t believe myears when I heard the police had arrested him. Still, one has always heardthey’re very stupid—the county police.”

“You can hardly blame them in this instance,” I said. “Mr. Redding camein and gave himself up.”

“What?” the girl was clearly dumbfounded. “Well—of all the poor fish! IfI’d committed a murder, I wouldn’t go straight off and give myself up. Ishould have thought Lawrence Redding would have had more sense. Togive in like that! What did he kill Protheroe for? Did he say? Was it just aquarrel?”

“It’s not absolutely certain that he did kill him,” I said.

“But surely—if he says he has—why really, Mr. Clement, he ought toknow.”

“He ought to, certainly,” I agreed. “But the police are not satisfied withhis story.”

“But why should he say he’d done it if he hasn’t?”

That was a point on which I had no intention of enlightening Miss Cram.

Instead I said rather vaguely²⁰:

“I believe that in all prominent murder cases, the police receive numer-ous letters from people accusing themselves of the crime.”

Miss Cram’s reception of this piece of information was:

“They must be chumps!” in a tone of wonder and scorn.

“Well,” she said with a sigh, “I suppose I must be trotting²¹ along.” Sherose. “Mr. Redding accusing himself of the murder will be a bit of news ofDr. Stone.”

“Is he interested?” asked Griselda.

Miss Cram furrowed²² her brows perplexedly.

“He’s a queer one. You never can tell with him. All wrapped up in thepast. He’d a hundred times rather look at a nasty old bronze knife out ofthose humps of ground than he would see the knife Crippen cut up hiswife with, supposing he had a chance to.”

“Well,” I said, “I must confess I agree with him.”

Miss Cram’s eyes expressed incomprehension and slight contempt.

Then, with reiterated²³ good-byes, she took her departure.

“Not such a bad sort, really,” said Griselda, as the door closed behindher. “Terribly common, of course, but one of those big, bouncing, good-hu-moured girls that you can’t dislike. I wonder what really brought herhere?”

“Curiosity.”

“Yes, I suppose so. Now, Len, tell me all about it. I’m simply dying tohear.”

I sat down and recited faithfully all the happenings of the morning,Griselda interpolating the narrative²⁴ with little exclamations²⁵ of surpriseand interest.

“So it was Anne Lawrence was after all along! Not Lettice. How blindwe’ve all been! That must have been what old Miss Marple was hinting atyesterday. Don’t you think so?”

“Yes,” I said, averting²⁶ my eyes.

Mary entered.

“There’s a couple of men here—come from a newspaper, so they say. Doyou want to see them?”

“No,” I said, “certainly not. Refer them to Inspector Slack at the policestation.”

Mary nodded and turned away.

“And when you’ve got rid of them,” I said, “come back here. There’ssomething I want to ask you.”

Mary nodded again.

It was some few minutes before she returned.

“Had a job getting rid of them,” she said. “Persistent. You never saw any-thing like it. Wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“I expect we shall be a good deal troubled with them,” I said. “Now,Mary, what I want to ask you is this: Are you quite certain you didn’t hearthe shot yesterday evening?”

“The shot what killed him? No, of course I didn’t. If I had of done, Ishould have gone in to see what had happened.”

“Yes, but—” I was remembering Miss Marple’s statement that she hadheard a shot “in the woods.” I changed the form of my question. “Did youhear any other shot—one down in the wood, for instance?”

“Oh! That.” The girl paused. “Yes, now I come to think of it, I believe Idid. Not a lot of shots, just one. Queer sort of bang it was.”

“Exactly,” I said. “Now what time was that?”

“Time?”

“Yes, time.”

“I couldn’t say, I’m sure. Well after teatime. I do know that.”

“Can’t you get a little nearer than that?”

“No, I can’t. I’ve got my work to do, haven’t I? I can’t go on looking atclocks the whole time—and it wouldn’t be much good anyway—the alarmloses a good three-quarters every day, and what with putting it on and onething and another, I’m never exactly sure what time it is.”

This perhaps explains why our meals are never punctual. They aresometimes too late and sometimes bewilderingly early.

“Was it long before Mr. Redding came?”

“No, it wasn’t long. Ten minutes—a quarter of an hour—not longer thanthat.”

I nodded my head, satisfied.

“Is that all?” said Mary. “Because what I mean to say is, I’ve got the jointin the oven and the pudding boiling over as likely as not.”

“That’s all right. You can go.”

She left the room, and I turned to Griselda.

“Is it quite out of the question to induce Mary to say sir or ma’am?”

“I have told her. She doesn’t remember. She’s just a raw girl, remem-ber?”

“I am perfectly²⁷ aware of that,” I said. “But raw things do not necessarilyremain raw for ever. I feel a tinge²⁸ of cooking might be induced in Mary.”

“Well, I don’t agree with you,” said Griselda. “You know how little wecan afford to pay a servant. If once we got her smartened up at all, she’dleave. Naturally. And get higher wages. But as long as Mary can’t cook andhas those awful manners—well, we’re safe, nobody else would have her.”

I perceived that my wife’s methods of housekeeping were not so entirelyhaphazard as I had imagined. A certain amount of reasoning underlaythem. Whether it was worthwhile having a maid at the price of her not be-ing able to cook, and having a habit of throwing dishes and remarks atone²⁹ with the same disconcerting abruptness³⁰, was a debatable matter.

“And anyway,” continued Griselda, “you must make allowances for hermanners being worse than usual just now. You can’t expect her to feel ex-actly sympathetic about Colonel Protheroe’s death when he jailed heryoung man.”

“Did he jail her young man?”

“Yes, for poaching. You know, that man, Archer³¹. Mary has been walkingout with him for two years.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Darling Len, you never know anything.”

“It’s queer,” I said, “that everyone says the shot came from the woods.”

“I don’t think it’s queer at all,” said Griselda. “You see, one so often hearsshots in the wood. So naturally, when you do hear a shot, you just assumeas a matter of course that it is in the wood. It probably just sounds a bitlouder than usual. Of course, if one were in the next room, you’d realizethat it was in the house, but from Mary’s kitchen with the window rightthe other side of the house, I don’t believe you’d ever think of such athing.”

The door opened again.

“Colonel Melchett’s back,” said Mary. “And that police inspector withhim, and they say they’d be glad if you’d join them. They’re in the study.”

 

分享到：