Nemesis (Miss Marple 12)

“Yes,” said Dr. Stokes, “I know exactly the place you mean. Large granite boulders. People call them the Wethers, or the Grey Wethers sometimes.”

“I suppose they might look like sheep from a distance but we weren’t so very far away from them.”

“And you saw someone up there?”

“Yes. Someone was more or less in the middle of the boulders, leaning over them.”

“Pushing them, do you think?”

“Yes. I thought so, and wondered why. He seemed to be pushing at one on the outside of the group near the edge. They were so big and so heavy I would have thought it was impossible to push them. But the one he or she was pushing seemed to be balanced like a rocking stone.”

“You said first he, now you say he or she, Miss Crawford. Which do you think it was?”

“Well, I thought—I suppose—I suppose I thought it was a man, but I wasn’t actually thinking at the time. It was—he or she was—wearing trousers and a pullover, a sort of man’s pullover with a polo-neck.”

“What colour was the pullover?”

“Rather a bright red and black in checks. And there was longish hair at the back of a kind of beret, rather like a woman’s hair, but then it might just as well have been a man’s.”

“It certainly might,” said Dr. Stokes, rather drily. “Identifying a male or female figure by their hair is certainly not easy these days.” He went on, “What happened next?”

“Well, the stone began to roll over. It sort of toppled over the edge and then it began to gain speed. I said to Emlyn, “Oh it’s going to go right over down the hill.” Then we heard a sort of crash as it fell. And I think I heard a cry from below but I might have imagined it.”

“And then?”

“Oh, we ran on up a bit and round the corner of the hill to see what happened to the stone.”

“And what did you see?”

“We saw the boulder below on the path with a body underneath it—and people coming running round the corner.”

“Was it Miss Temple who uttered the cry?”

“I think it must have been. It might have been one of the others who was catching up and turned the corner. Oh! it was—it was horrible.”

“Yes, I’m sure it was. What had happened to the figure you’d seen above? The man or woman in the red and black pullover? Was that figure still there among the stones?”

“I don’t know. I never looked up there. I was—I was busy looking at the accident, and running down the hill to see if one could do anything. I did just look up, I think, but there wasn’t anyone in sight. Only the stones. There were a lot of contours and you could lose anyone quite easily from view.”

“Could it have been one of your party?”

“Oh, no. I’m sure it wasn’t one of us. I would have known because, I mean, one would have known by their clothes. I’m sure nobody was wearing a scarlet and black pullover.”

“Thank you, Miss Crawford.”

Emlyn Price was called next. His story was practically a replica of Joanna’s.

There was a little more evidence which did not amount to much.

The Coroner brought in that there was not sufficient evidence to show how Elizabeth Temple had come to her death, and adjourned the inquest for a fortnight.

Seventeen

MISS MARPLE MAKES A VISIT

I

As they walked back from the inquest to the Golden Boar hardly anyone spoke. Professor Wanstead walked beside Miss Marple, and since she was not a very fast walker, they fell slightly behind the others.

“What will happen next?” Miss Marple asked at last.

“Do you mean legally or to us?”

“I suppose both,” said Miss Marple, “because one will surely affect the other.”

“It will be presumably a case of the police making further enquiries, arising out of the evidence given by those two young people.”

“Yes.”

“Further enquiry will be necessary. The inquest was bound to be adjourned. One can hardly expect the Coroner to give a verdict of accidental death.”

“No, I understand that.” She said, “What did you think of their evidence?”

Professor Wanstead directed a sharp glance from under his beetling eyebrows.

“Have you any ideas on the subject, Miss Marple?” His voice was suggestive. “Of course,” said Professor Wanstead, “we knew beforehand what they were going to say.”

“Yes.”

“What you mean is that you are asking what I thought about them themselves, their feelings about it.”

“It was interesting,” said Miss Marple. “Very interesting. The red and black check pullover. Rather important, I think, don’t you? Rather striking?”

“Yes, exactly that.”

He shot again that look at her under his eyebrows. “What does it suggest to you exactly?”

“I think,” said Miss Marple, “I think the description of that might give us a valuable clue.”

They came to the Golden Boar. It was only about half past twelve and Mrs. Sandbourne suggested a little refreshment before going in to luncheon. As sherry and tomato juice and other liquors were being consumed, Mrs. Sandbourne proceeded to make certain announcements.

“I have taken advice,” she said, “both from the Coroner and Inspector Douglas. Since the medical evidence has been taken fully, there will be at the church a funeral memorial service tomorrow at eleven o’clock. I’m going to make arrangements with Mr. Courtney, the local vicar, about it. On the following day it will be best, I think, to resume our tour. The programme will be slightly altered, since we have lost three days, but I think it can be reorganized on rather simpler lines. I have heard from one or two members of our party that they would prefer to return to London, presumably by rail. I can quite understand the feelings lying behind this, and would not like to try and influence you in any way. This death has been a very sad occurrence. I still cannot help but believe that Miss Temple’s death was the result of an accident. Such a thing has happened before on that particular pathway, though there do not appear in this case to have been any geological or atmospherical conditions causing it. I think a good deal more investigation will have to be made. Of course, some hiker on a walking tour—that kind of thing—may have been pushing about boulders quite innocently, not realizing that there was a danger for someone walking below in what he or she was doing. If so, if that person comes forward, the whole thing may be cleared up quite quickly, but I agree one cannot take that for granted at present. It seems unlikely that the late Miss Temple could have had an enemy, or anyone who wished her harm of any kind. W

hat I should suggest is, that we do not discuss the accident any further. Investigations will be made by the local authorities whose business it is. I think we will probably all like to attend the memorial service in the church tomorrow. And after that, on continuing the tour, I hope that it may distract our minds from the shock we have had. There are still some very interesting and famous houses to see and some very beautiful scenery also.”

Luncheon being announced shortly after that, the subject was not discussed any further. That is to say, not openly. After lunch, as they took coffee in the lounge, people were prone to get together in little groups, discussing their further arrangements.

“Are you continuing on the tour?” asked Professor Wanstead of Miss Marple.

“No,” said Miss Marple. She spoke thoughtfully. “No. I think—I think that what has happened inclines me to remain here a little longer.”

“At the Golden Boar or at The Old Manor House?”

“That rather depends as to whether I receive any further invitation to go back to The Old Manor House. I would not like to suggest it myself because my original invitation was for the two nights that the tour was to have stayed here originally. I think possibly it would be better for me to remain at the Golden Boar.”

“You don’t feel like returning to St. Mary Mead?”

“Not yet,” said Miss Marple. “There are one or two things I could do here, I think. One thing I have done already.” She met his enquiring gaze. “If you are going on,” she said, “with the rest of the party, I will tell you what I have put in hand, and suggest a small sideline of enquiry that might be helpful. The other reason that I wish to stay here I will tell you later. There are certain enquiries—local enquiries—that I want to make. They may not lead anywhere so I think it as well not to mention them now. And you?”

“I should like to return to London. I have work there waiting to be done. Unless, that is, I can be helpful to you here?”

“No,” said Miss Marple, “I do not think so at present. I expect you have various enquiries of your own that you wish to put in hand.”

“I came on the tour to meet you, Miss Marple.”