149
“When you say that she was silly—-”
Inspector Neele broke off.
Miss Marple took up the theme.
“She was the credulous type. She was the
sort of girl who would have given her savings
to a swindler, if she’d had any savings. Of
course, she never did have any savings
because she always spent her money on most
unsuitable clothes.”
“What about men?” asked the Inspector.
“She wanted a young man badly,” said
Miss Marple. “In fact that’s really, I think, why she left St. Mary Mead. The competition
there is very keen. So few men. She did
have hopes of the young man who delivered
the fish. Young Fred had a pleasant word for
all the girls, but of course he didn’t mean anything
by it. That upset poor Gladys quite a
lot. Still, I gather she did get herself a young
man in the end?”
Inspector Neele nodded.
“It seems so. Albert Evans, I gather, his
name was. She seems to have met him at
some holiday camp. He didn’t give her a ring
or anything so maybe she made it all up. He
was a mining engineer, so she told the cook.”
“That seems most unlikely,” said Miss
Marple, “but I dare say it’s what he told her.
150
As I say, she’d believe anything. You don’t
connect him with this business at all?”
Inspector Neele shook his head.
“No. I don’t think there are any complications
of that kind. He never seems to have
visited her. He sent her a postcard from time
to time, usually from a seaport–probably 4th
Engineer on a boat on the Baltic run.”
“Well,” said Miss Marple, “I’m glad she
had her little romance. Since her life has been
cut short in this way—-” She tightened her
lips. “You know. Inspector, it makes me
very, very angry.” And she added, as she had
said to Pat Fortescue, “Especially the clothes
peg. That, Inspector, was really wicked.”
Inspector Neele looked at her with interest.
“I know just what you mean. Miss Marple,”
he said.
Miss Marple coughed apologetically.
“I wonder–I suppose it would be great
presumption on my part–if only I could
assist you in my very humble and, I’m afraid,
very feminine way. This is a wicked murderer, Inspector Neele, and the wicked
should not go unpunished.”
“That’s an unfashionable belief nowadays, Miss Marple,” Inspector Neele said rather
grimly. “Not that I don’t agree with you.”
151
“There is an hotel near the station, or
there’s the Golf Hotel,” said Miss Marple
tentatively, “and I believe there’s a Miss
Ramsbottom in this house who is interested
in foreign missions.”
Inspector Neele looked at Miss Marple
appraisingly.
“Yes,” he said. “You’ve got something
there, maybe. I can’t say that I’ve had great
success with the lady.”
“It’s really very kind of you Inspector
Neele,” said Miss Marple. “I’m so glad you
don’t think I’m just a sensation hunter.”
Inspector Neele gave a sudden, rather unexpected
smile. He was thinking to himself
that Miss Marple was very unlike the popular
idea of an avenging fury. And yet, he thought
that was perhaps exactly what she was.
“Newspapers,” said Miss Marple, “are
often so sensational in their accounts. But
hardly, I fear, as accurate as one might wish.”
She looked inquiringly at Inspector Neele.
“If one could be sure of having just the sober
facts.”
“They’re not particularly sober,” said
Neele. “Shorn of undue sensation, they’re as
follows. Mr. Fortescue died in his office as a
result oftaxine poisoning. Taxine is obtained
152
from the berries and leaves of yew trees.”
“Very convenient,” Miss Marple said.
“Possibly,” said Inspector Neele, “but
we’ve no evidence as to that. As yet, that is.”
He stressed the point because it was here that
he thought Miss Marple might be useful. If
any brew or concoction of yewberries had
been made in the house. Miss Marple was
quite likely to come upon traces of it. She was
the sort of old pussy who would make homemade
liqueurs, cordials and herb teas herself.
She would know methods of making and
methods of disposal.
“And Mrs. Fortescue?”
“Mrs. Fortescue had tea with the family in
the library. The last person to leave the room