“Man mad,” supplied Gwenda.
Miss Marple looked up suddenly as though to speak, and then stopped.
“—and that she was beautiful. But we’ve no clue to what other men there were in her life besides her husband. There may have been any number.” Miss Marple shook her head.
“Hardly that. She was quite young, you know. But you are not quite accurate, Mr.
Reed. We do know something about what you have termed ‘the men in her life’.
There was the man she was going to out marry — ” “Ah yes — the lawyer chap? What was his name?” “Walter Fane,” said Miss Marple.
“Yes. But you can’t count him. He was out in Malaya or India or somewhere.” “But was he? He didn’t remain a teaplanter, you know,” Miss Marple pointed out. “He came back here and went into the firm, and is now the senior partner.” Gwenda exclaimed: “Perhaps he followed her back here?” “He may have done. We don’t know.” Giles was looking curiously at the old lady.
“How did you find all this out?” Miss Marple smiled apologetically.
“I’ve been gossiping a little. In shops — and waiting for buses. Old ladies are supposed to be inquisitive. Yes, one can pick up quite a lot of local news.” “Walter Fane,” said Giles thoughtfully.
Helen turned him down. That may have rankled quite a lot. Did he ever marry?” “No,” said Miss Marple. “He lives with his mother. I’m going to tea there at the end of the week.” “There’s someone else we know about, too,” said Gwenda suddenly. “You remember there was somebody she got engaged to, or entangled with, when she left school–someone undesirable. Dr.
Kennedy said. I wonder just why he was undesirable…” “That’s two men,” said Giles. “Either of them may have had a grudge, may have brooded…. Perhaps the first young man may have had some unsatisfactory mental history.” “Dr. Kennedy could tell us that,” said Gwenda. “Only it’s going to be a little difficult asking him. I mean, it’s all very well for me to go along and ask for news of my stepmother whom I barely remember.
But it’s going to take a bit of explaining if I want to know about her early love-affairs.
It seems rather excessive interest in a stepmother you hardly knew.” “There are probably other ways of finding out,” said Miss Marple. “Oh yes, I think with time and patience, we can gather the information we want.” “Anyway, we’ve got two possibilities,” said Giles.
“We might, I think, infer a third,” said Miss Marple. “It would be, of course, a pure hypothesis, but justified, I think, by the turn of events.” Gwenda and Giles looked at her in slight surprise.
“It is just an inference,” said Miss Marple, turning a little pink. “Helen Kennedy went out to India to marry young Fane. Admittedly she was not wildly in love with him, but she must have been fond of him, and quite prepared to spend her life with him. Yet as soon as she gets there, she breaks off the engagement and wires her brother to send her money to get home.
Now why?” “Changed her mind, I suppose,” said Giles.
Both Miss Marple and Gwenda looked at him in mild contempt.
“Of course she changed her mind,” said Gwenda. “We know that. What Miss Marple means is — why?” “I suppose girls do change their minds,” said Giles vaguely.
“Under certain circumstances’ said Miss Marple.
Her words held all the pointed innuendo that elderly ladies are able to achieve with the minimum of actual statement.
“Something he did — ” Giles was suggesting vaguely, when Gwenda chipped in sharply.
“Of course,” she said. “Another man!” She and Miss Marple looked at each other with the assurance of those admitted to a freemasonry from which men were excluded.
Gwenda added with certainty: “On the boat! Going out!” “Propinquity,” said Miss Marple.
“Moonlight on the boat deck,” said Gwenda. “All that sort of thing. Only — it must have been serious — not just a flirtation.” “Oh yes,” said Miss Marple, “I think it was serious.” “If so, why didn’t she marry the chap?” demanded Giles.
“Perhaps he didn’t really care for her,” Gwenda said slowly. Then shook her head.