“It would be the only way to do it, wouldn’t it? And if so, of course, as you say, once the substitution had been accomplished there wouldn’t have been any reason for murdering Colonel Protheroe – quite the reverse.”
“Exactly,” I said. “That’s what I said.”
“Yes, but I just wondered – I don’t know, of course – and Colonel Protheroe always talked a lot about doing things before he actually did do them, and, of course, sometimes never did them all, but he did say -”
“Yes?”
“That he was going to have all his things valued – a man down from London. For probate – no, that’s when you’re dead – for insurance. Someone told him that was the thing to do. He talked about it a great deal, and the importance of having it done. Of course, I don’t know if he had made any actual arrangements, but if he had…”
“I see,” I said slowly.
“Of course, the moment the expert saw the silver, he’d know and then Colonel Protheroe would remember having shown the things to Dr. Stone – I wonder if it was done then – legerdemain don’t they call it? So clever – and then, well, the fat would be in the fire, to use an old-fashioned expression.”
“I see your idea,” I said. “I think we ought to find out for certain.”
I went once more to the telephone. In a few minutes I was through to Old Hall and speaking to Anne Protheroe.
“No, it’s nothing very important. Has the inspector arrived yet? Oh! well, he’s on his way. Mrs. Protheroe, can you tell me if the contents of Old Hall were ever valued? What’s that you say?”
Her answer came clear and prompt. I thanked her, replaced the receiver, and turned to Miss Marple.
“That’s very definite. Colonel Protheroe had made arrangements for a man to come down from London on Monday – to-morrow – to make a full valuation. Owing to the colonel’s death the matter has been put off.”
“Then there was a motive,” said Miss Marple softly.
“A motive, yes. But that’s all. You forget. When the shot was fired, Dr. Stone had just joined the others, or was climbing over the stile in order to do so.”
“Yes,” said Miss Marple thoughtfully, “So that rules him out.”
CHAPTER XXIV
I returned to the Vicarage to find Hawes waiting for me in my study. He was pacing up and down nervously, and when I entered the room he started as though he had been shot.
“You must excuse me,” he said, wiping his forehead. “My nerves are all to pieces lately.”
“My dear fellow,” I said, “you positively must get away for a change. We shall have you breaking down altogether, and that will never do.”
“I can’t desert my post. No, that is a thing I will never do.”
“It’s not a case of desertion. You are ill. I’m sure Haydock would agree with me.”
“Haydock – Haydock. What kind of a doctor is he? An ignorant country practitioner.”
“I think you’re unfair to him. He has always been considered a very able man in his profession.”
“Oh! perhaps. Yes, I daresay. But I don’t like him. However, that’s not what I came to say. I came to ask you if you would be kind enough to preach to-night instead of me. I – I really do not feel equal to it.”
“Why, certainly. I will take the service for you.”
“No, no. I wish to take the service. I am perfectly fit. It is only the idea of getting up in the pulpit, of all those eyes staring at me…”
He shut his eyes and swallowed convulsively.
It is clear to me that there is something very wrong indeed the matter with Hawes. He seemed aware of my thoughts, for he opened his eyes and said quickly:
“There is nothing really wrong with me. It is just these headaches – these awful racking headaches. I wonder if you could let me have a glass of water.”
“Certainly,” I said.
I went and fetched it myself from the tap. Ringing bells is a profitless form of exercise in our house.