But I remembered that afterwards he and I together had come upon another faintly marked trail which proved to be that of the inspector. On thinking it over, I distinctly remembered that the first trail (Lawrence’s) had been much more noticeable than the second, as though more than one person had been passing that way. And I reflected that that was probably what had drawn Lawrence’s attention to it in the first instance. Supposing that it had originally been made by either Dr. Stone or else Miss Cram?
I remembered, or else I imagined remembering, that there had been several withered leaves on broken twigs. If so, the trail could not have been made the afternoon of our search.
I was just approaching the spot in question. I recognised it easily enough and once more forced my way through the bushes. This time I noticed fresh twigs broken. Someone had passed this way since Lawrence and myself.
I soon came to the place where I had encountered Lawrence. The faint trail, however, persisted farther, and I continued to follow it. Suddenly it widened out into a little clearing which showed signs of recent upheaval. I say a clearing, because the denseness of the undergrowth was thinned out there, but the branches of the trees met overhead and the whole place was not more than a few feet across.
On the other side, the undergrowth grew densely again, and it seemed quite clear that no one had forced a way through it recently. Nevertheless, it seemed to have been disturbed in one place.
I went across and kneeled down, thrusting the bushes aside with both hands. A glint of a shiny brown surface rewarded me. Full of excitement, I thrust my arm in and with a good deal of difficulty I extracted a small brown suit-case.
I uttered an ejaculation of triumph. I had been successful. Coldly snubbed by Constable Hurst, I had yet proved right in my reasoning. Here without doubt was the suit-case carried by Miss Cram. I tried the hasp, but it was locked.
As I rose to my feet I noticed a small brownish crystal lying on the ground. Almost automatically, I picked it up and slipped it into my pocket.
Then grasping my find by the handle, I retraced my steps to the path.
As I climbed over the stile into the lane, an agitated voice near at hand called out:
“Oh! Mr. Clement. You’ve found it! How clever of you!”
Mentally registering the fact that in the art of seeing without being seen, Miss Marple had no rival, I balanced my find on the palings between us.
“That’s the one,” said Miss Marple. “I’d know it anywhere.”
This, I thought, was a slight exaggeration. There are thousands of cheap shiny suit-cases all exactly alike. No one could recognise one particular one seen from such a distance away by moonlight, but I realised that the whole business of the suit-case was Miss Marple’s particular triumph and, as such, she was entitled to a little pardonable exaggeration.
“It’s locked, I suppose, Mr. Clement?”
“Yes. I’m just going to take it down to the police station.”
“You don’t think it would be better to telephone?”
Of course unquestionably it would be better to telephone. To stride through the village, suit-case in hand, would be to court a probably undesirable publicity.
So I unlatched Miss Marple’s garden gate and entered the house by the French window, and from the sanctity of the drawing-room with the door shut, I telephoned my news.
The result was that Inspector Slack announced he would be up himself in a couple of jiffies.
When he arrived it was in his most cantankerous mood.
“So we’ve got it, have we?” he said. “You know, sir, you shouldn’t keep things to yourself. If you’ve any reason to believe you know where the article in question was hidden, you ought to have reported it to the proper authorities.”
“It was a pure accident,” I said. “The idea just happened to occur to me.”
“And that’s a likely tale. Nearly three-quarters of a mile of woodland, and you go right to the proper spot and lay your hand upon it.”