“I see. And – you didn’t happen to hear a shot, Miss Marple?”
“I didn’t hear a shot then,” said Miss Marple.
“But did you hear one sometime?”
“Yes, I think there was a shot somewhere in the woods. But quite five or ten minutes afterwards – and, as I say, out in the woods. At least, I think so. It couldn’t have been – surely it couldn’t have been -”
She stopped, pale with excitement.
“Yes, yes, we’ll come to all that presently,” said Colonel Melchett. “Please go on with your story. Mrs. Protheroe went down to the studio?”
“Yes, she went inside and waited. Presently Mr. Redding came along the lane from the village. He came to the Vicarage gate, looked all round -”
“And saw you, Miss Marple.”
“As a matter of fact, he didn’t see me,” said Miss Marple, flushing slightly. “Because, you see, just at that minute I was bending right over – trying to get up one of those nasty dandelions, you know. So difficult. And then he went through the gate and down to the studio.”
“He didn’t go near the house?”
“Oh, no! he went straight to the studio. Mrs. Protheroe came to the door to meet him, and then they both went inside.”
Here Miss Marple contributed a singularly eloquent pause.
“Perhaps she was sitting to him?” I suggested.
“Perhaps,” said Miss Marple.
“And they came out – when?”
“About ten minutes later.”
“That was roughly?”
“The church clock had chimed the half-hour. They strolled out through the garden gate and along the lane, and just at that minute, Dr. Stone came down the path leading to the Hall, and climbed over the stile and joined them. They all walked towards the village together. At the end of the lane, I think, but I can’t be quite sure, they were joined by Miss Cram. I think it must have been Miss Cram because her skirts were so short.”
“You must have very good eyesight, Miss Marple, if you can observe as far as that.”
“I was observing a bird,” said Miss Marple. “A golden crested wren, I think he was. A sweet little fellow. I had my glasses out, and that’s how I happened to see Miss Cram (if it was Miss Cram, and I think so), join them.”
“Ah! well, that may be so,” said Colonel Melchett. “Now, since you seem very good at observing, did you happen to notice, Miss Marple, what sort of expression Mrs. Protheroe and Mr. Redding had as they passed along the lane?”
“They were smiling and talking,” said Miss Marple. “They seemed very happy to be together, if you know what I mean.”
“They didn’t seem upset or disturbed in any way?”
“Oh, no! Just the opposite.”
“Deuced odd,” said the colonel. “There’s something deuced odd about the whole thing.”
Miss Marple suddenly took our breath away by remarking in a placid voice:
“Has Mrs. Protheroe been saying that she committed the crime now?”
“Upon my soul,” said the colonel, “how did you come to guess that, Miss Marple?”
“Well, I rather thought it might happen,” said Miss Marple. “I think dear Lettice thought so, too. She’s really a very sharp girl. Not always very scrupulous, I’m afraid. So Anne Protheroe says she killed her husband. Well, well. I don’t think it’s true. No, I’m almost sure it isn’t true. Not with a woman like Anne Protheroe. Although one never can be quite sure about any one, can one? At least that’s what I’ve found. When does she say she shot him?”
“At twenty minutes past six. Just after speaking to you.”
Miss Marple shook her head slowly and pityingly. The pity was, I think, for two full-grown men being so foolish as to believe such a story. At least that is what we felt like.
“What did she shoot him with?”
“A pistol.”
“Where did she find it?”
“She brought it with her.”
“Well, that she didn’t do,” said Miss Marple, with unexpected decision. “I can swear to that. She’d no such thing with her.”
“You mightn’t have seen it.”
“Of course I should have seen it.”
“If it had been in her handbag.”