魔手37

III

I can’t tell you coherently the events of the next twenty-four hours. Vari-ous incidents stand out, unrelated to other incidents.

I remember Joanna coming home, very white and drawn, and of how Itried 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 Joannasaid, “Somehow or other, Jerry, that doesn’t comfort me much just now….”

IV

Owen came the next day and rhapsodied in the most fulsome way aboutJoanna. She was wonderful, marvellous! The way she’d come to him, theway she was willing to marry him—at once if he liked. But he wasn’t goingto let her do that. No, she was too good, too fine to be associated with thekind 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 whenstanding 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 tongues waggingnineteen to the dozen. Emily Barton was saying that she had never reallytrusted Aimée Griffith. The grocer’s wife was saying with gusto that she’dalways thought Miss Griffith had a queer look in her eye—They had completed the case against Aimée, so I learnt from Nash. Asearch of the house had brought to light the cut pages of Emily Barton’sbook—in the cupboard under the stairs, of all places, wrapped up in anold roll of wallpaper.

“And a jolly good place too,” said Nash appreciatively. “You never knowwhen a prying servant won’t tamper with a desk or a locked drawer—butthose junk cupboards full of last year’s tennis balls and old wallpaper arenever opened except to shove something more in.”

“The lady would seem to have had a penchant for that particular hidingplace,” I said.

“Yes. The criminal mind seldom has much variety. By the way, talking ofthe dead girl, we’ve got one fact to go upon. There’s a large heavy pestlemissing from the doctor’s dispensary. I’ll bet anything you like that’s whatshe was stunned with.”

“Rather an awkward thing to carry about,” I objected.

“Not for Miss Griffith. She was going to the Guides that afternoon, butshe was going to leave flowers and vegetables at the Red Cross stall on theway, 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 madenough to keep a bloodstained skewer just to make it easy for us, when allshe’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 MissMarple was very much distressed by it. She spoke to me very earnestly onthe 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. Theyactually 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 foundwhere she’d hidden them in her house.”

Miss Marple stared at me. Then she said, in a very low voice: “But that ishorrible—really wicked.”

Mrs. Dane Calthrop came up with a rush and joined us and said: “What’sthe 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 ig-norant, and I am afraid, so foolish.”

I felt rather embarrassed and was glad when Mrs. Dane Calthrop tookher friend away.

I was to see Miss Marple again that afternoon, however. Much laterwhen I was on my way home.

She was standing near the little bridge at the end of the village, nearMrs. Cleat’s cottage, and talking to Megan of all people.

I wanted to see Megan. I had been wanting to see her all day. Iquickened my pace. But as I came up to them, Megan turned on her heeland went off in the other direction.

It made me angry and I would have followed her, but Miss Marpleblocked my way.

She said: “I wanted to speak to you. No, don’t go after Megan now. Itwouldn’t be wise.”

I was just going to make a sharp rejoinder when she disarmed me bysaying:

“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. Shemust keep her courage intact.”

There was something about the old lady’s assertion that chilled me. Itwas 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 anddown aimlessly. I don’t know what I was waiting for, nor what I wasthinking about….

I got caught by that awful old bore Colonel Appleton. He asked after mypretty sister as usual and then went on:

“What’s all this about Griffith’s sister being mad as a hatter? They sayshe’s been at the bottom of this anonymous letter business that’s beensuch a confounded nuisance to everybody? Couldn’t believe it at first, butthey 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 anonymousletter stunt—these desiccated old maids are always the ones who go in forit—though the Griffith woman wasn’t bad looking even if she was a bitlong in the tooth. But there aren’t any decent-looking girls in this part ofthe world—except that governess girl of the Symmingtons. She’s worthlooking at. Pleasant girl, too. Grateful if one does any little thing for her.

Came across her having a picnic or something with those kids not longago. They were romping about in the heather and she was knitting—everso vexed she’d run out of wool. ‘Well,’ I said, ‘like me to run you intoLymstock? I’ve got to call for a rod of mine there. I shan’t be more than tenminutes getting it, then I’ll run you back again.’ She was a bit doubtfulabout leaving the boys. ‘They’ll be all right,’ I said. ‘Who’s to harm them?’

Wasn’t going to have the boys along, no fear! So I ran her in, dropped herat the wool shop, picked her up again later and that was that. Thanked mevery prettily. Grateful and all that. Nice girl.”

I managed to get away from him.

It was after that, that I caught sight of Miss Marple for the third time.

She was coming out of the police station.

 

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