“You mean it’s all a question of relativity,” I said slowly. “It should be – logically, I admit. But I don’t know whether it really is.”
“Surely it must be the same,” said Miss Marple. “The – what one used to call the factors at school – are the same. There’s money, and mutual attraction between people of an – er – opposite sex – and there’s queerness, of course – so many people are a little queer, aren’t they? – in fact, most people are when you know them well. And normal people do such astonishing things sometimes, and abnormal people are sometimes so very sane and ordinary. In fact, the only way is to compare people with other people you have known or come across. You’d be surprised if you knew how very few distinct types there are in all.”
“You frighten me,” I said. “I feel I’m being put under the microscope.”
“Of course, I wouldn’t dream of saying any of this to Colonel Melchett – such an autocratic man, isn’t he? – and poor Inspector Slack – well, he’s exactly like the young lady in the boot shop; who wants to sell you patent leather because she’s got it in your size, and doesn’t take any notice of the fact that you want brown calf.”
That, really, is a very good description of Slack.
“But you, Mr. Clement, know, I’m sure, quite as much about the crime as Inspector Slack. I thought, if we could work together -”
“I wonder,” I said. “I think each one of us in his secret heart fancies himself as Sherlock Homes.”
Then I told her of the three summonses I had received that afternoon. I told her of Anne’s discovery of the picture with the slashed face. I also told her of Miss Cram’s attitude at the police station, and I described Haydock’s identification of the crystal I had picked up.
“Having found that myself,” I finished up, “I should like it to be important. But it’s probably got nothing to do with the case.”
“I have been reading a lot of American detective stories from the library lately,” said Miss Marple, “hoping to find them helpful.”
“Was there anything in them about picric acid?”
“I’m afraid not. I do remember reading a story once, though, in which a man was poisoned by picric acid and lanoline being rubbed on him as an ointment.”
“But as nobody has been poisoned here, that doesn’t seem to enter into the question,” I said.
Then I took up my schedule and handed it to her.
“I’ve tried,” I said, “to recapitulate the facts of the case as clearly as possible.”
MY SCHEDULE
Thursday, 21st inst.
12.30 a.m. – Colonel Protheroe alters his appointment from six to six-fifteen. Overheard by half village very probably.
12.45 – Pistol last seen in its proper place. (But this is doubtful, as Mrs. Archer had previously said she could not remember.)
5.30 (approx.) – Colonel and Mrs. Protheroe leave Old Hall for village in car.
5.30 – Fake call put through to me from the North Lodge, Old Hall.
6.15 (or a minute or two earlier) – Colonel Protheroe arrives at Vicarage. Is shown into study by Mary.
6.20 – Mrs. Protheroe comes along back lane and across garden to study window. Colonel Protheroe not visible.
6.29 – Call from Lawrence Redding’s cottage put through to Mrs. Price Ridley (according to Exchange).
6.30-6.35 – Shot heard. (Accepting telephone call time as correct.) Lawrence Redding, Anne Protheroe and Dr. Stone’s evidence seem to point to its being earlier, but Mrs. P. R. probably right.
6.45 – Lawrence Redding arrives at Vicarage and finds the body.
6.48 – I meet Lawrence Redding.
6.49 – Body discovered by me.
6.55 – Haydock examines body.
NOTE. – The only two people who have no kind of alibi for 6.30-6.35 are Miss Cram and Mrs. Lestrange. Miss Cram says she was at the barrow, but no confirmation. It seems reasonable, however, to dismiss her from case as there seems nothing to connect her with it. Mrs. Lestrange left Dr. Haydock’s house some time after six to keep an appointment. Where was the appointment, and with whom? It could hardly have been with Colonel Protheroe, as he expected to be engaged with me. It is true that Mrs. Lestrange was near the spot at the time the crime was committed, but it seems doubtful what motive she could have had for murdering him. She did not gain by his death, and the inspector’s theory of blackmail I cannot accept. Mrs. Lestrange is not that kind of woman. Also it seems unlikely that she should have got hold of Lawrence Redding’s pistol.