‘It was a fairly gallant bit of work, wasn’t it, sir?’ said Craddock slowly.
‘Rescuing that child from the lorry? Yes. Plucky. Don’t suppose it was cowardice that made Haymes desert. Well, all that’s past history. For a man who’d blotted his copybook, it was a good death.’
‘I’m glad for her sake,’ said the Inspector. ‘And for that boy of theirs.’
‘Yes, he needn’t be too ashamed of his father. And the young woman will be able to marry again now.’
Craddock said slowly:
‘I was thinking of that, sir…It opens up—possibilities.’
‘You’d better break the news to her as you’re on the spot.’
‘I will, sir. I’ll push along there now. Or perhaps I’d better wait until she’s back at Little Paddocks. It may be rather a shock—and there’s someone else I rather want to have a word with first.’
Chapter 19
Reconstruction of the Crime
I
‘I’ll put a lamp by you before I go,’ said Bunch. ‘It’s so dark in here. There’s going to be a storm, I think.’
She lifted the small reading lamp to the other side of the table where it would throw light on Miss Marple’s knitting as she sat in a wide highbacked chair.
As the flex pulled across the table, Tiglath Pileser the cat leapt upon it and bit and clawed it violently.
‘No, Tiglath Pileser, you mustn’t…He really is awful. Look, he’s nearly bitten it through—it’s all frayed. Don’t you understand, you idiotic puss, that you may get a nasty electric shock if you do that?’
‘Thank you, dear,’ said Miss Marple, and put out a hand to turn on the lamp.
‘It doesn’t turn on there. You have to press that silly little switch half-way along the flex. Wait a minute. I’ll take these flowers out of the way.’
She lifted a bowl of Christmas roses across the table. Tiglath Pileser, his tail switching, put out a mischievous paw and clawed Bunch’s arm. She spilled some of the water out of the vase. It fell on the frayed area of flex and on Tiglath Pileser himself, who leapt to the floor with an indignant hiss.
Miss Marple pressed the small pear-shaped switch. Where the water had soaked the frayed flex there was a flash and a crackle.
‘Oh, dear,’ said Bunch. ‘It’s fused. Now I suppose all the lights in here are off.’ She tried them. ‘Yes, they are. So stupid being all on the same thingummibob. And it’s made a burn on the table, too. Naughty Tiglath Pileser—it’s all his fault. Aunt Jane—what’s the matter? Did it startle you?’
‘It’s nothing, dear. Just something I saw quite suddenly which I ought to have seen before…’
‘I’ll go and fix the fuse and get the lamp from Julian’s study.’
‘No, dear, don’t bother. You’ll miss your bus. I don’t want any more light. I just want to sit quietly and—think about something. Hurry dear, or you won’t catch your bus.’
When Bunch had gone, Miss Marple sat quite still for about two minutes. The air of the room was heavy and menacing with the gathering storm outside.
Miss Marple drew a sheet of paper towards her.
She wrote first: Lamp? and underlined it heavily.
After a moment or two, she wrote another word.
Her pencil travelled down the paper, making brief cryptic notes…
II
In the rather dark living-room of Boulders with its low ceiling and latticed window panes, Miss Hinchcliffe and Miss Murgatroyd were having an argument.
‘The trouble with you, Murgatroyd,’ said Miss Hinchcliffe, ‘is that you won’t try.’
‘But I tell you, Hinch, I can’t remember a thing.’
‘Now look here, Amy Murgatroyd, we’re going to do some constructive thinking. So far we haven’t shone on the detective angle. I was quite wrong over that door business. You didn’t hold the door open for the murderer after all. You’re cleared, Murgatroyd!’
Miss Murgatroyd gave a rather watery smile.
‘It’s just our luck to have the only silent cleaning woman in Chipping Cleghorn,’ continued Miss Hinchcliffe. ‘Usually I’m thankful for it, but this time it means we’ve got off to a bad start. Everybody else in the place knows about that second door in the drawing-room being used—and we only heard about it yesterday—’