there’s only one person that Ruby
MacKenzie could be.”
“I think, you know,” said Miss Marple,
296
“that you’re being a little too dogmatic.
Inspector Neele paid no attention.
“Just one person,” he said grimly.
He got up and went out of the room.
?»
II
Mary Dove was in her own sitting-room. It
was a small, rather austerely furnished room, but comfortable. That is to say Miss Dove
herself had made it comfortable. When
Inspector Neele tapped at the door Mary
Dove raised her head, which had been bent
over a pile of tradesmen’s books, and said in
her clear voice:
“Come in.”
The Inspector entered.
“Do sit down. Inspector.” Miss Dove indicated
a chair. “Could you wait just one
moment? The total of the fishmonger’s
account does not seem to be correct and I
must check it.”
Inspector Neele sat in silence watching her
as she lotted up the column. How wonderfully
calm and self-possessed the girl was, he
thought. He was intrigued, as so often before,
by the personality that underlay that self297
assured manner. He tried to trace in her
features any resemblance to those of the
woman he had talked to at the Pinewood
Sanatorium. The colouring was not unlike,
but he could detect no real facial
resemblance. Presently Mary Dove raised her
head from her accounts and said:
“Yes, Inspector? What can I do for you?”
Inspector Neele said quietly:
“You know. Miss Dove, there are certain
very peculiar features about this case.”
“Yes?”
“To begin with there is the odd
circumstance of the rye found in Mr.
Fortescue’s pocket.”
“That was very extraordinary,” Mary
Dove agreed. “You know I really cannot
think of any explanation for that.”
“Then there is the curious circumstance of
the blackbirds. Those four blackbirds on Mr.
Fortescue’s desk last summer, and also the
incident of the blackbirds being substituted
for the veal and ham in the pie. You were
here, I think. Miss Dove, at the time of both
those occurrences?”
“Yes, I was. I remember now. It was most
upsetting. It seemed such a very purposeless,
spiteful thing to do, especially at the time.”
298
“Perhaps not entirely purposeless. What
do you know. Miss Dove, about the Blackbird
Mine?”