III

For several moments Dinah stared at her. Then she said incredulously:

“Basil? Murder? Are you joking?”

“No, indeed. Haven’t you seen the papers?”

Dinah caught her breath.

“You mean—that girl at the Majestic Hotel. Do you mean they suspectBasil of killing her?”

“Yes.”

“But it’s nonsense!”

There was the whir of a car outside, the bang of a gate. Basil Blake flungopen the door and came in, carrying some bottles. He said:

“Got the gin and the vermouth. Did you—?”

He stopped and turned incredulous eyes on the prim, erect visitor.

Dinah burst out breathlessly:

“Is she mad? She says you’re going to be arrested for the murder of thatgirl Ruby Keene.”

“Oh, God!” said Basil Blake. The bottles dropped from his arms on to thesofa. He reeled to a chair and dropped down in it and buried his face inhis hands. He repeated: “Oh, my God! Oh, my God!”

Dinah darted over to him. She caught his shoulders.

“Basil, look at me! It isn’t true! I know it isn’t true! I don’t believe it for amoment!”

His hand went up and gripped hers.

“Bless you, darling.”

“But why should they think—You didn’t even know her, did you?”

“Oh, yes, he knew her,” said Miss Marple.

Basil said fiercely:

“Be quiet, you old hag. Listen, Dinah darling, I hardly knew her at all.

Just ran across her once or twice at the Majestic. That’s all, I swear that’sall.”

Dinah said, bewildered:

“I don’t understand. Why should anyone suspect you, then?”

Basil groaned. He put his hands over his eyes and rocked to and fro.

Miss Marple said:

“What did you do with the hearthrug?”

His reply came mechanically:

“I put it in the dustbin.”

Miss Marple clucked her tongue vexedly.

“That was stupid — very stupid. People don’t put good hearthrugs industbins. It had spangles in it from her dress, I suppose?”

“Yes, I couldn’t get them out.”

Dinah cried: “But what are you both talking about?”

Basil said sullenly:

“Ask her. She seems to know all about it.”

“I’ll tell you what I think happened, if you like,” said Miss Marple. “Youcan correct me, Mr. Blake, if I go wrong. I think that after having had a vi-olent quarrel with your wife at a party and after having had, perhaps,rather too much—er—to drink, you drove down here. I don’t know whattime you arrived—”

Basil Blake said sullenly:

“About two in the morning. I meant to go up to town first, then when Igot to the suburbs I changed my mind. I thought Dinah might come downhere after me. So I drove down here. The place was all dark. I opened thedoor and turned on the light and I saw—and I saw—”

He gulped and stopped. Miss Marple went on:

“You saw a girl lying on the hearthrug—a girl in a white evening dress—strangled. I don’t know whether you recognized her then—”

Basil Blake shook his head violently.

“I couldn’t look at her after the first glance—her face was all blue—swollen. She’d been dead some time and she was there—in my room!”

He shuddered.

Miss Marple said gently:

“You weren’t, of course, quite yourself. You were in a fuddled state andyour nerves are not good. You were, I think, panic-stricken. You didn’tknow what to do—”

“I thought Dinah might turn up any minute. And she’d find me therewith a dead body—a girl’s dead body—and she’d think I’d killed her. ThenI got an idea—it seemed, I don’t know why, a good idea at the time—Ithought: I’ll put her in old Bantry’s library. Damned pompous old stick, al-ways looking down his nose, sneering at me as artistic and effeminate.

Serve the pompous old brute right, I thought. He’ll look a fool when a deadlovely is found on his hearthrug.” He added, with a pathetic eagerness toexplain: “I was a bit drunk, you know, at the time. It really seemed posit-ively amusing to me. Old Bantry with a dead blonde.”

“Yes, yes,” said Miss Marple. “Little Tommy Bond had very much thesame idea. Rather a sensitive boy with an inferiority complex, he saidteacher was always picking on him. He put a frog in the clock and itjumped out at her.

“You were just the same,” went on Miss Marple, “only of course, bodiesare more serious matters than frogs.”

Basil groaned again.

“By the morning I’d sobered up. I realized what I’d done. I was scaredstiff. And then the police came here—another damned pompous ass of aChief Constable. I was scared of him—and the only way I could hide it wasby being abominably rude. In the middle of it all Dinah drove up.”

Dinah looked out of the window.

She said:

“There’s a car driving up now … there are men in it.”

“The police, I think,” said Miss Marple.

Basil Blake got up. Suddenly he became quite calm and resolute. Heeven smiled. He said:

“So I’m for it, am I? All right, Dinah sweet, keep your head. Get on to oldSims—he’s the family lawyer—and go to Mother and tell her everythingabout our marriage. She won’t bite. And don’t worry. I didn’t do it. So it’sbound to be all right, see, sweetheart?”

There was a tap on the cottage door. Basil called “Come in.” InspectorSlack entered with another man. He said:

“Mr. Basil Blake?”

“Yes.”

“I have a warrant here for your arrest on the charge of murdering RubyKeene on the night of September 21st last. I warn you that anything yousay may be used at your trial. You will please accompany me now. Full fa-cilities will be given you for communicating with your solicitor.”

Basil nodded.

He looked at Dinah, but did not touch her. He said:

“So long, Dinah.”

“Cool customer,” thought Inspector Slack.

He acknowledged the presence of Miss Marple with a half bow and a“Good morning,” and thought to himself:

“Smart old Pussy, she’s on to it! Good job we’ve got that hearthrug. Thatand finding out from the car-park man at the studio that he left that partyat eleven instead of midnight. Don’t think those friends of his meant tocommit perjury. They were bottled and Blake told ’em firmly the next dayit was twelve o’clock when he left and they believed him. Well, his goose iscooked good and proper! Mental, I expect! Broadmoor, not hanging. Firstthe Reeves kid, probably strangled her, drove her out to the quarry,walked back into Danemouth, picked up his own car in some side lane,drove to this party, then back to Danemouth, brought Ruby Keene outhere, strangled her, put her in old Bantry’s library, then probably got thewind up about the car in the quarry, drove there, set it on fire, and gotback here. Mad—sex and blood lust—lucky this girl’s escaped. What theycall recurring mania, I expect.”

Alone with Miss Marple, Dinah Blake turned to her. She said:

“I don’t know who you are, but you’ve got to understand this—Basildidn’t do it.”

Miss Marple said:

“I know he didn’t. I know who did do it. But it’s not going to be easy toprove. I’ve an idea that something you said—just now—may help. It gaveme an idea—the connection I’d been trying to find—now what was it?”