door of the study. Inspector Neele had told
her to come in. “There was just one or two
little points, you know, that I wanted to
verify.” She added reproachfully. “We didn’t
really finish our talk just now.”
“I’m so sorry. Miss Marple.” Inspector
Neele summoned up a charming smile. “I’m
afraid I was rather rude. I summoned you to a
consultation and did all the talking myself.”
“Oh, that’s quite all right,” said Miss
Marple immediately, “because, you see, I
wasn’t really quite ready then to put all my cards on the table. I mean I wouldn’t like to
make any accusation unless I was absolutely
sure about it. Sure, that is, in my own mind. And I am sure, now.”
“You’re sure about what. Miss Marple?”
“Well, certainly about who killed Mr.
Fortescue. What you told me about the
marmalade, I mean, just clinches the matter.
Showing how, I mean, as well as who, and
well within the mental capacity.”
Inspector Neele blinked a little.
“I’m so sorry,” said Miss Marple, perceiving
this reaction on his part, “I’m afraid I
find it difficult sometimes to make myself
perfectly clear.”
306
“I’m not quite sure yet. Miss Marple, what
we’re talking about.”
“Well, perhaps,” said Miss Marple, “we’d
better begin all over again. I mean if you
could spare the time. I would rather like to
put my own point of view before you. You
see, I’ve talked a good deal to people, to old
Miss Ramsbottom and to Mrs. Crump and to
her husband. He, of course, is a liar, but that
doesn’t really matter because if you know
liars are liars, it comes to the same thing. But
I did want to get the telephone calls clear and
the nylon stockings and all that.”
Inspector Neele blinked again and wondered
what he had let himself in for and why
he had ever thought that Miss Marple might
be a desirable and clear-headed colleague.
Still, he thought to himself, however muddleheaded
she was, she might have picked up
some useful bits of information. All Inspector
Neele’s successes in his profession had come
from listening well. He was prepared to listen
now.
“Please tell me all about it. Miss Marple,”
he said, “but start at the beginning, won’t
you.”
“Yes, of course,” said Miss Marple, “and
the beginning is Gladys. I mean I came here
307
because of Gladys. And you very kindly let
me look through all her things. And what
with that and the nylon stockings and the
telephone calls and one thing and another, it
did come out perfectly clear. I mean about
Mr. Fortescue and the taxine.”
“You have a theory?” asked Inspector
Neele, “as to who put the taxine into Mr.
Fortescue’s marmalade.”
“It isn’t a theory,” said Miss Marple. “I
know.”
For the third time Inspector Neele blinked.
“It was Gladys, of course,” said Miss
Marple.
308
26
INSPECTOR NEELE stared at Miss
Marple and slowly shook his head.
“Are you saying,” he said incredulously,
“that Gladys Martin deliberately murdered
Rex Fortescue? I’m sorry. Miss Marple, but I
simply don’t believe it.”
“No, of course she didn’t mean to murder
him,” said Miss Marple, “but she did it all
the same! You said yourself that she was
nervous and upset when you questioned her.
And that she looked guilty.”
“Yes, but not guilty of murder.”
“Oh, no, I agree. As I say, she didn’t mean
to murder anybody, but she put the taxine in
the marmalade. She didn’t think it was
poison, of course.”
“What did she think it was?” Inspector
Neele’s voice still sounded incredulous.
“I rather imagine she thought it was a truth
drug,” said Miss Marple. “It’s very interesting,
you know, and very instructive—the things
these girls cut out of papers and keep. It’s
always been the same, you know, all through
309
the ages. Recipes for beauty, for attracting
the man you love. And witchcraft and charms
and marvellous happenings. Nowadays
they’re mostly lumped together under the
heading of Science. Nobody believes in
magicians any more, nobody believes that
anyone can come along and wave a wand and
turn you into a frog. But if you read in the
paper that by injecting certain glands