Giles and Gwenda did not talk. They watched Miss Marple as she read.
Finally she closed the book and laid it down. Her expression was difficult to read. There was, Gwenda thought, anger in it. Her lips were pressed tightly together, and her eyes shone very brightly, unusually so, considering her age.
“Yes, indeed,” she said. “Yes, indeed!” Gwenda said: “You advised us once— do you remember? — not to go on. I can see why you did. But we did go on — and this is where we’ve got to. Only now, it seems as though we’d got to another place where one could — if one liked — stop.
… Do you think we ought to stop? Or not?” Miss Marple shook her head slowly.
She seemed worried, perplexed.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I really don’t know. It might be better to do so, much better to do so. Because after this lapse of time there is nothing that you can do nothing, I mean, of a constructive nature.” “You mean that after this lapse of time, there is nothing we can find out?” asked Giles.
“Oh no,” said Miss Marple. cc! didn’t mean that at all. Nineteen years is not such a long time. There are people who would remember things, who could answer questions — quite a lot of people. Servants for instance. There must have been at least two servants in the house at the time, and a nurse, and probably a gardener. It will only take time and a little trouble to find and talk to these people. As a matter of fact, I’ve found one of them already. The cook. No, it wasn’t that. It was more the question of what practical good you can accomplish, and I’d be inclined to say to that— None. And yet…” She stopped: “There is a yet…. I’m a little slow in thinking things out, but I have a feeling that there is something— something, perhaps, not very tangible— that would be worth taking risks for— even that one should take risks for– but I find it difficult to say just what that is…” Giles began “It seems to me — ” and stopped.
Miss Marple turned to him gratefully.
“Gentlemen,” she said, “always seem to be able to tabulate things so clearly. I’m sure you have thought things out.” “I’ve been thinking things out,” said Giles. “And it seems to me that there are just two conclusions one can come to. One is the same as I suggested before. Helen Halliday wasn’t dead when Gwennie saw her lying in the hall. She came to, and went away with her lover, whoever he was. That would still fit the facts as we know them. It would square with Kelvin Halliday’s rooted belief that he had killed his wife, and it would square with the missing suitcase and clothes and with the note that Dr. Kennedy found. But it leaves certain points unaccounted for. It doesn’t explain why Kelvin was convinced he strangled his wife in the bedroom. And it doesn’t cover the one, to my mind, really staggering question — where is Helen Halliday now? Because it seems to me against all reason that Helen should never have been heard of or from again. Grant that the two letters she wrote are genuine, what happened after that? Why did she never write again? She was on affectionate terms with her brother, he’s obviously deeply attached to her and always has been. He might disapprove of her conduct, but that doesn’t mean that he expected never to hear from her again.
And if you ask me, that point has obviously been worrying Kennedy himself. Let’s say he accepted at the time absolutely the story he’s told us. His sister’s going off and Kelvin’s breakdown. But he didn’t expect never to hear from his sister again. I think, as the years went on, and he didn’t hear, and Kelvin Halliday persisted in his delusion and finally committed suicide that a terrible doubt began to creep up in his mind. Supposing that Kelvin’s story was true? That he actually had killed Helen?
There’s no word from her–and surely if she had died somewhere abroad, word would have come to him? I think that explains his eagerness when he saw our advertisement. He hoped that it might lead to some account of where she was or what she had been doing. I’m sure it’s absolutely unnatural for someone to disappear as — as completely as Helen seems to have done. That, in itself, is highly suspicious.” “I agree with you,” said Miss Marple. “But the alternative, Mr. Reed?” Giles said slowly, “I’ve been thinking out the alternative. It’s pretty fantastic, you know, and even rather frightening.