“Naturally. But you know what policemen are like. They say ‘thank you’ very civilly and write it all down, and you’ve no idea what they are thinking except that one does feel they have rather sceptical minds.”
“It would amuse me to see you in a spot, Alex,” said Stephen with his thin, rather cruel smile. “Now I’m quite all right! I never left the Hall last night.”
Gina cried, “But they couldn’t possibly think it was one of us!”
Her dark eyes were round and dismayed.
“Don’t say it must have been a tramp, dear,” said Alex, helping himself lavishly to marmalade. “It’s so hackneyed.”
Miss Bellever looked in at the door and said:
“Miss Marple, when you have finished your breakfast, will you go to the library?”
“You again,” said Gina. “Before any of us.”
She seemed a little injured.
“Hi, what was that?” asked Alex.
“Didn’t hear anything,” said Stephen.
“It was a pistol shot.”
“They’ve been firing shots in the room where Uncle Christian was killed,” said Gina. “I don’t know why. And outside too.”
The door opened again and Mildred Strete came in. She was wearing black with some onyx beads.
She murmured good morning without looking at anyone and sat down.
In a hushed voice she said:
“Some tea, please, Gina. Nothing much to eat—just some toast.”
She touched her nose and eyes delicately with the handkerchief she held in one hand. Then she raised her eyes and looked in an un-seeing way at the two brothers. Stephen and Alex became uncomfortable. Their voices dropped to almost a whisper and presently they got up and left.
Mildred Strete said, whether to the universe or Miss Marple was not quite certain, “Not even a black tie!”
“I don’t suppose,” said Miss Marple apologetically, “that they knew beforehand that a murder was going to happen.”
Gina made a smothered sound and Mildred Strete looked sharply at her.
“Where’s Walter this morning?” she asked.
Gina flushed.
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him.”
She sat there uneasily like a guilty child.
Miss Marple got up.
“I’ll go to the library now,” she said.
2
Lewis Serrocold was standing by the window in the library.
There was no one else in the room.
He turned as Miss Marple came in and came forward to meet her, taking her hand in his.
“I hope,” he said, “that you are not feeling the worse for the shock. To be at close quarters with what is undoubtedly murder must be a great strain on anyone who has not come in contact with such a thing before.”
Modesty forbade Miss Marple to reply that she was, by now, quite at home with murder. She merely said that life in St. Mary Mead was not quite so sheltered as outside people believed.
“Very nasty things go on in a village, I assure you,” she said. “One has an opportunity of studying things there that one would never have in a town.”
Lewis Serrocold listened indulgently, but with only half an ear.
He said very simply: “I want your help.”
“But of course, Mr. Serrocold.”
“It is a matter that affects my wife—affects Caroline. I think that you are really attached to her?”
“Yes, indeed. Everyone is.”
“That is what I believed. It seems that I am wrong. With the permission of Inspector Curry, I am going to tell you something that no one else as yet knows. Or perhaps I should say what only one person knows.”
Briefly, he told her what he had told Inspector Curry the night before.
Miss Marple looked horrified.
“I can’t believe it, Mr. Serrocold. I really can’t believe it.”
“That is what I felt when Christian Gulbrandsen told me.”
“I should have said that dear Carrie Louise had not got an enemy in the world.”
“It seems incredible that she should have. But you see the implication? Poisoning—slow poisoning—is an intimate family matter. It must be one of our closely knit little household—”
“If it is true. Are you sure that Mr. Gulbrandsen was not mistaken?”
“Christian was not mistaken. He is too cautious a man to make such a statement without foundation. Besides, the police took away Caroline’s medicine bottle and a separate sample of its contents. There was arsenic in both of them—and arsenic was not prescribed. The actual quantitative tests will take longer—but the actual fact of arsenic being present is established.”
“Then her rheumatism—the difficulty in walking—all that—”
“Yes, leg cramps are typical, I understand. Also, before you came, Caroline had had one or two severe attacks of a gastric nature—I never dreamed until Christian came—”
He broke off. Miss Marple said softly: “So Ruth was right!”
“Ruth?”
Lewis Serrocold sounded surprised. Miss Marple flushed.
“There is something I have not told you. My coming here was not entirely fortuitous. If you will let me explain—I’m afraid I tell things so badly. Please have patience.”
Lewis Serrocold listened whilst Miss Marple told him of Ruth’s unease and urgency.
“Extraordinary,” he commented. “I had no idea of this.”
“It was all so vague,” said Miss Marple. “Ruth herself didn’t know why she had this feeling. There must be a reason—in my experience there always is—but ‘something wrong’ was as near as she could get.”
Lewis Serrocold said grimly:
“Well, it seems that she was right. Now, Miss Marple, you see how I am placed. Am I to tell Caroline of this?”
Miss Marple said quickly, “Oh no,” in a distressed voice, and then flushed and stared doubtfully at Lewis. He nodded.
“So you feel as I do? As Christian Gulbrandsen did. Should we feel like that with an
ordinary woman?”
“Carrie Louise is not an ordinary woman. She lives by her trust, by her belief in human nature—oh dear, I am expressing myself very badly. But I do feel that until we know who—”
“Yes, that is the crux. But you do see, Miss Marple, that there is a risk in saying nothing—”
“And so you want me to—how shall I put it?—watch over her?”
“You see, you are the only person whom I can trust,” said Lewis Serrocold simply. “Everyone here seems devoted. But are they? Now your attachment goes back many years.”
“And also I only arrived a few days ago,” said Miss Marple pertinently.
Lewis Serrocold smiled.
“Exactly.”
“It is a very mercenary question,” said Miss Marple apologetically. “But who exactly would benefit if dear Carrie Louise were to die?”
“Money!” said Lewis bitterly. “It always boils down to money, does it?”
“Well, I really think it must in this case. Because Carrie Louise is a very sweet person with a great deal of charm, and one cannot really imagine anyone disliking her. She couldn’t, I mean, have an enemy. So then it does boil down, as you put it, to a question of money, because as you don’t need me to tell you, Mr. Serrocold, people will quite often do anything for money.”
“I suppose so, yes.”
He went on: “Naturally Inspector Curry has already taken up that point. Mr. Gilroy is coming down from London today and can give detailed information. Gilroy, Gilroy, Jaimes and Gilroy are a very eminent firm of lawyers. This Gilroy’s father was one of the original trustees and they drew up both Caroline’s will and the original will of Eric Gulbrandsen. I will put it in simple terms for you—”
“Thank you,” said Miss Marple gratefully. “So mystifying the law, I always think.”
“Eric Gulbrandsen after endowment of the College and his various fellowships and trusts and other charitable bequests, and having settled an equal sum on his daughter Mildred and on his adopted daughter Pippa (Gina’s mother), left the remainder of his vast fortune in trust, the income from it to be paid to Caroline for her lifetime.”