“Yes, I’ve always been able to hide things. In a way, I like doing it.”
Her voice held a childlike ring of pleasure in it.
“But it’s quite true what I said. I didn’t know about Anne and I wondered why Lawrence was so different, not – well, really not noticing me. I’m not used to it.”
There was a pause.
“You do understand, Len?” said Griselda anxiously.
“Yes,” I said, “I understand.”
But did I?
CHAPTER XXV
I found it hard to shake off the impression left by the anonymous letter. Pitch soils.
However, I gathered up the other three letters, glanced at my watch, and started out.
I wondered very much what this might be that had “come to the knowledge” of three ladies simultaneously. I took it to be the same piece of news. In this, I was to realise that my psychology was at fault.
I cannot pretend that my calls took me past the police station. My feet gravitated there of their own accord. I was anxious to know whether Inspector Slack had returned from Old Hall.
I found that he had, and further, that Miss Cram had returned with him. The fair Gladys was seated in the police station carrying off matters with a high hand. She denied absolutely having taken the suitcase to the woods.
“Just because one of these gossiping old cats has nothing better to do than look out of her window all night you go and pitch upon me. She’s been mistaken once, remember, when she said she saw me at the end of the lane on the afternoon of the murder, and if she was mistaken then, in daylight, how can she possibly have recognised me by moonlight?”
“Wicked it is, the way these old ladies go on down here. Say anything, they will. And me asleep in my bed as innocent as can be. You ought to be ashamed of yourselves, the lot of you.”
“And supposing the landlady of the Blue Boar identifies the suitcase as yours, Miss Cram?”
“If she says anything of the kind, she’s wrong. There’s no name on it. Nearly everybody’s got a suitcase like that. As for poor Dr. Stone, accusing him of being a common burglar! And he has a lot of letters after his name.”
“You refuse to give us any explanation, then, Miss Cram?”
“No refusing about it. You’ve made a mistake, that’s all. You and your meddlesome Marples. I won’t say a word more – not without my solicitor present. I’m going this minute – unless you’re going to arrest me.”
For answer, the inspector rose and opened the door for her and with a toss of the head, Miss Cram walked out.
“That’s the line she takes,” said Slack, coming back to his chair. “Absolute denial. And, of course, the old lady may have been mistaken. No jury would believe you could recognise any one from that distance on a moonlit night. And, of course, as I say, the old lady may have made a mistake.”
“She may,” I said, “but I don’t think she did. Miss Marple is usually right. That’s what makes her unpopular.”
The inspector grinned.
“That’s what Hurst says. Lord, these villages!”
“What about the silver, inspector?”
“Seemed to be perfectly in order. Of course, that meant one lot or the other must be a fake. There’s a very good man in Much Benham, an authority on old silver. I’ve phoned over to him and sent a car to fetch him. We’ll soon know which is which. Either the burglary was an accomplished fact, or else it was only planned. Doesn’t make a frightful lot of difference either way – I mean as far as we’re concerned. Robbery’s a small business compared with murder. These two aren’t concerned with the murder. We’ll maybe get a line on him through the girl – that’s why I let her go without any more fuss.”
“I wondered,” I said.
“A pity about Mr. Redding. It’s not often you find a man who goes out of his way to oblige you.”
“I suppose not,” I said, smiling slightly.
“Women cause a lot of trouble,” moralised the inspector.
He sighed and then went on, somewhat to my surprise: “Of course, there’s Archer.”