I said that that had indeed been the case.
“But the dear vicar was not here at the time?” Miss Marple questioned of Griselda. I explained where I had been.
“Mr. Dennis is not with you this morning?” said Miss Marple, glancing round.
“Dennis,” said Griselda, “fancies himself as an amateur detective. He is very excited about a footprint he found in one of the flower beds, and I fancy has gone off to tell the police about it.”
“Dear, dear,” said Miss Marple. “Such a to-do, is it not? And Mr. Dennis thinks he knows who committed the crime. Well, I suppose we all think we know.”
“You mean it is obvious?” said Griselda.
“No, dear, I didn’t mean that at all. I dare say every one thinks it is somebody different. That is why it is so important to have proofs. I, for instance, am quite convinced I know who did it. But I must admit I haven’t one shadow of proof. One must, I know, be very careful of what one says at a time like this – criminal libel, don’t they call it? I had made up my mind to be most careful with Inspector Slack. He sent word he would come and see me this morning, but now he has just phoned up to say it won’t be necessary after all.”
“I suppose, since the arrest, it isn’t necessary,” I said.
“The arrest?” Miss Marple leaned forward, her cheeks pink with excitement. “I didn’t know there had been an arrest.”
It is so seldom that Miss Marple is worse informed than we are that I had taken it for granted that she would know the latest developments.
“It seems we have been talking at cross purposes,” I said. “Yes, there has been an arrest – Lawrence Redding.”
“Lawrence Redding?” Miss Marple seemed very surprised. “Now I should not have thought -”
Griselda interrupted vehemently.
“I can’t believe it even now. No, not though he has actually confessed.”
“Confessed?” said Miss Marple. “You say he has confessed? Oh! dear, I see I have been sadly at sea – yes, sadly at sea.”
“I can’t help feeling it must have been some kind of an accident,” said Griselda. “Don’t you think so, Len? I mean his coming forward to give himself up looks like that.”
Miss Marple leant forward eagerly.
“He gave himself up, you say?”
“Yes.”
“Oh!” said Miss Marple, with a deep sigh. “I am so glad – so very glad.”
I looked at her in some surprise.
“It shows a true state of remorse, I suppose,” I said.
“Remorse?” Miss Marple looked very surprised. “Oh! but surely, dear, dear vicar, you don’t think that he is guilty?”
It was my turn to stare.
“But since he has confessed -”
“Yes, but that just proves it, doesn’t it? I mean that he had nothing to do with it.”
“No,” I said. “I may be dense, but I can’t see that it does. If you have not committed a murder, I cannot see the object of pretending you have.”
“Oh! of course, there’s a reason,” said Miss Marple. ” Naturally. There’s always a reason, isn’t there? And young men are so hot-headed and often prone to believe the worst.”
She turned to Griselda.
“Don’t you agree with me, my dear?”
“I – I don’t know,” said Griselda. “It’s difficult to know what to think. I can’t see any reason for Lawrence behaving like a perfect idiot.”
“If you had seen his face last night -” I began.
“Tell me,” said Miss Marple.
I described my homecoming while she listened attentively.
When I had finished she said:
“I know that I am very often rather foolish and don’t take in things as I should, but I really do not see your point.
“It seems to me that if a young man had made up his mind to the great wickedness of taking a fellow creature’s life, he would not appear distraught about it afterwards. It would be a premeditated and cold-blooded action and though the murderer might be a little flurried and possibly might make some small mistake, I do not think it likely he would fall into a state of agitation such as you describe. It is difficult to put oneself in such a position, but I cannot imagine getting into a state like that myself.”