“There had been no miscarriage of justice? Nobody had suffered as a result of this crime?” “As far as one can see, no.” “Hm. Murder in retrospect. Sleeping murder. Well, I’ll tell you. I’d let sleeping murder lie — that’s what I’d do. Messing about with murder is dangerous. It could be very dangerous.” “That’s what I’m afraid of.” “People say a murderer always repeats his crimes. That’s not true. There’s a type who commits a crime, manages to get away with it, and is darned careful never to stick his neck out again. I won’t say they live happily ever after — I don’t believe that’s true–there are many kinds of retribution. But outwardly at least all goes well. Perhaps that was so in the case of Madeleine Smith or again in the case of Lizzie Borden. It was not proven in the case of Madeleine Smith and Lizzie was acquitted — but many people believe both of those women were guilty. I could name you others. They never repeated their crimes — one crime gave them what they wanted and they were content. But suppose some danger had menaced them? I take it your killer, whoever he or she is, was one of that kind. He committed a crime and got away with it and nobody suspected. But supposing somebody goes poking about, digging into things, turning up stones and exploring avenues and finally, perhaps, hitting the target? What’s your killer going to do about it? Just stay there smiling while the hunt comes nearer and nearer? No, if there’s no principle involved, I’d say let it alone.” He repeated his former phrase: “Let sleeping murder lie.” He added firmly: “And those are my orders to you. Let the whole thing alone.” “But it’s not I who am involved. It’s two very delightful children. Let me tell you!” She told him the story and Haydock listened.
“Extraordinary,” he said when she had finished. “Extraordinary coincidence.
Extraordinary business altogether. I suppose you see what the implications are?” “Oh, of course. But I don’t think it’s occurred to them yet.” “It will mean a good deal of unhappiness and they’ll wish they’d never meddled with the thing. Skeletons should be kept in their cupboards. Still, you know, I can quite see young Giles’s point of view.
Dash it all, I couldn’t leave the thing alone myself. Even now, I’m curious…” He broke off and directed a stern glance at Miss Marple.
“So that’s what you’re doing with your excuses to get to Dillmouth. Mixing yourself up in something that’s no concern of yours.” “Not at all. Dr. Haydock. But I’m worried about those two. They’re very young and inexperienced and much too trusting and credulous. I feel I ought to be there to look after them.” “So that’s why you’re going. To look after them! Can’t you ever leave murder alone, woman? Even murder in retrospect ?” Miss Marple gave a small prim smile.
“But you do think, don’t you, that a few weeks at Dillmouth would be beneficial to my health?” “More likely to be the end of you,” said Dr. Haydock. “But you won’t listen to me!” Ill On her way to call upon her friends, Colonel and Mrs. Bantry, Miss Marple met Colonel Bantry coming along the drive, his gun in his hand and his spaniel at his heels. He welcomed her cordially.
“Glad to see you back again. How’s London?” Miss Marple said that London was very well. Her nephew had taken her to several plays.
“Highbrow ones, I bet. Only care for a musical comedy myself.” Miss Marple said that she had been to a Russian play that was very interesting, though perhaps a little too long.
“Russians!” said Colonel Bantry explosively.
He had once been given a novel by Dostoievsky to read in a nursing home.
He added that Miss Marple would find Dolly in the garden.
Mrs. Bantry was almost always to be found in the garden. Gardening was her passion. Her favourite literature was bulb catalogues and her conversation dealt with primulas, bulbs, flowering shrubs and alpine novelties. Miss Marple’s first view of her was a substantial posterior clad in fading tweed.
At the sound of approaching steps, Mrs.