‘Why you have such a poor idea of human nature, I can’t think – living in that sweet peaceful village of yours, so old world and pure.’
‘You have never lived in a village, Ruth. The things that go on in a pure peaceful village would probably surprise you.’
‘Oh I daresay. My point is that they don’t surprise you.
So you will go down to Stonygates and find out what’s wrong, won’t you?’
‘But, Ruth dear, that would be a most difficult thing to do.’
‘No, it wouldn’t. I’ve thought it all out. If you won’t be absolutely mad at me, I’ve prepared the ground already.’
Mrs Van Rydock paused, eyed Miss Marple rather uneasily, lighted a cigarette, and plunged rather ner-vously into explanation.
‘You’ll admit, I’m sure, that things have been difficult in this country since the war, for people with small fixed incomes – for people like you, that is to say, Jane.’
‘Oh yes, indeed. But for the kindness, the really great kindness of my nephew Raymond, I don’t know really where I should be.’
‘Never mind your nephew,’ said Mrs Van Rydock.
‘Carrie Louise knows nothing about your nephew – or if she does, she knows him as a writer and has no idea that he’s your nephew. The point, as I put it to Carrie Louise, is that it’s just too bad about dear Jane. Really sometimes hardly enough to eat, and of course, far too proud ever to appeal to old friends. One couldn’t, I said, suggest money – but a nice long rest in lovely surroundings, with an old friend and with plenty of nourishing food, and no cares or worries’ – Ruth Van Rydock paused and then added defiantly, ‘Now go on – be mad at me if you want to be.’ Miss Marple opened her china blue eyes in gentle surprise.
‘But why should I be mad at you, Ruth? A very ingenious and plausible approach. I’m sure Carrie Louise responded.’ ‘She’s writing to you. You’ll find the letter when you get back. Honestly, Jane, you don’t feel that I’ve taken an unpardonable liberty? You won’t mind ‘ She hesitated and Miss Marple put her thoughts deftly into words.
‘Going to Stonygates as an object of charity – more or less under false pretences? Not in the least – if it is necessary. You think it is necessary – and I am inclined to agree with you.’ Mrs Van Rydock stared at her.
‘But why? What have you heard?’ ‘I haven’t heard anything. It’s just your conviction.
You’re not a fanciful woman, Ruth.’ ‘No, but I haven’t anything definite to go upon.’ ‘I remember,’ said Miss Marple thoughtfully, ‘one Sunday morning at church – it was the second Sunday in Advent – sitting behind Grace Lamble and feeling more and more worried about her. Quite sure, you know, that something was wrong – badly wrong – and yet being quite unable to say why. A most disturbing feeling and very very definite.’ ‘And was there something wrong?’ ‘Oh yes. Her father, the old Admiral, had been very peculiar for some time, and the very next day he went for her with the coal hammer, roaring Out that she was Antichrist masquerading as his daughter. He nearly killed her. They took him away to the asylum and she eventually recovered after months in hospital – but it was a very near thing.’
‘And you’d actually had a premonition that day in church?’
‘I wouldn’t call it a premonition. It was founded on fact – these things usually are, though one doesn’t always recognize it at the time. She was wearing her Sunday hat the wrong way round. Very significant, really, because Grace Lamble was a most precise woman, not at all vague or absent-minded – and the circumstances under which she would not notice which way her hat was put on to go to church were really extremely limited. Her father, you see, had thrown a marble paperweight at her and it had shattered the looking-glass. She had caught up her hat, put it on, and hurried out of the house. Anxious to keep up appearances and for the servants not to hear anything.