doesn’t sound at all a likely thing to happen.’
‘But it must have been an accident of some kind. Because there’s not a shadow of a motive. What earthly reason could Lawrence have for killing Colonel Protheroe?’
I could have answered that question very decidedly, but I wished to spare Anne Protheroe as far as possible. There might still be a chance of keeping her name out of it.
‘Remember they had had a quarrel,’ I said.
‘About Lettice and her bathing dress. Yes, but that’s absurd; and even if he and Lettice were engaged secretly – well, that’s not a reason for killing her father.’
‘We don’t know what the true facts of the case may be, Griselda.’
‘You do believe it, Len! Oh! How can you! I tell you, I’m sure Lawrence never touched a hair of his head.’
‘Remember, I met him just outside the gate. He looked like a madman.’
‘Yes, but – oh! It’s impossible.’
‘There’s the clock, too,’ I said. ‘This explains the clock. Lawrence must have put it back to 6.20 with the idea of making an alibi for himself. Look how Inspector Slack fell into the trap.’
‘You’re wrong, Len. Lawrence knew about that clock being fast. “Keeping the Vicar up to time!” he used to say. Lawrence would never have made the mistake of putting it back to 6.22. He’d have put the hands somewhere possible – like a quarter to seven.’
‘He mayn’t have known what time Protheroe got here. Or he may have simply forgotten about the clock being fast.’
Griselda disagreed.
‘No, if you were committing a murder, you’d be awfully careful about things like that.’
‘You don’t know, my dear,’ I said mildly. ‘You’ve never done one.’
Before Griselda could reply, a shadow fell across the breakfast table, and a very gentle voice said:
‘I hope I am not intruding. You must forgive me. But in the sad circumstances – the very sad circumstances…’
It was our neighbour, Miss Marple. Accepting our polite disclaimers, she stepped in through the window, and I drew up a chair for her. She looked faintly flushed and quite excited.
‘Very terrible, is it not? Poor Colonel Protheroe. Not a very pleasant man, perhaps, and not exactly popular, but it’s none the less sad for that. And actually shot in the Vicarage study, I understand?’
I said that that had indeed been the case.
‘But the dear Vicar was not here at the time?’ Miss Marple questioned of Griselda. I explained where I had been.
‘Mr Dennis is not with you this morning?’ said Miss Marple, glancing round.
‘Dennis,’ said Griselda, ‘fancies himself as an amateur detective. He is very excited about a footprint he found in one of the flower beds, and I fancy has gone off to tell the police about it.’
‘Dear, dear,’ said Miss Marple. ‘Such a to-do, is it not? And Mr Dennis thinks he knows who committed the crime. Well, I suppose we all think we know.’
‘You mean it is obvious?’ said Griselda.
‘No, dear, I didn’t mean that at all. I dare say everyone thinks it is somebody different. That is why it is so important to have proofs. I, for instance, am quite convinced I know who did it. But I must admit I haven’t one shadow of proof. One must, I know, be very careful of what one says at a time like this – criminal libel, don’t they call it? I had made up my mind to be most careful with Inspector Slack. He sent word he would come and see me this morning, but now he has just phoned up to say it won’t be necessary after all.’
‘I suppose, since the arrest, it isn’t necessary,’ I said.
‘The arrest?’ Miss Marple leaned forward, her cheeks pink with excitement. ‘I didn’t know there had been an arrest.’
It is so seldom that Miss Marple is worse informed than we are that I had taken it for granted that she would know the latest developments.
‘It seems we have been talking at cross purposes,’ I said. ‘Yes, there has been an arrest – Lawrence Redding.’
‘Lawrence Redding?’ Miss Marple seemed very surprised. ‘Now I should not have thought –’
Griselda interrupted vehemently.
‘I can’t believe it even now. No, not though he has actually confessed.’
‘Confessed?’ said Miss Marple. ‘You say he has confessed? Oh! dear, I see I have been sadly at sea – yes, sadly at sea.’
‘I can’t help feeling it must have been some kind of an accident,’ said Griselda. ‘Don’t you think so, Len? I mean his coming forward to give himself up looks like that.’
Miss Marple leant forward eagerly.
‘He gave himself up, you say?’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh!’ said Miss Marple, with a deep sigh. ‘I am so glad – so very glad.’
I looked at her in some surprise.
‘It shows a true state of remorse, I suppose,’ I said.
‘Remorse?’ Miss Marple looked very surprised. ‘Oh, but surely, dear, dear Vicar, you don’t think that he is guilty?’
It was my turn to stare.
‘But since he has confessed –’
‘Yes, but that just proves it, doesn’t it? I mean that he had nothing to do with it.’
‘No,’ I said. ‘I may be dense, but I can’t see that it does. If you have not committed a murder, I cannot see the object of pretending you have.’
‘Oh, of course, there’s a reason!’ said Miss Marple. ‘Naturally. There’s always a reason, isn’t there? And young men are so hot-headed and often prone to believe the worst.’
She turned to Griselda.
‘Don’t you agree with me, my dear?’
‘I – I don’t know,’ said Griselda. ‘It’s difficult to know what to think. I can’t see any reason for Lawrence behaving like a perfect idiot.’
‘If you had seen his face last night –’ I began.
‘Tell me,’ said Miss Marple.
I described my homecoming while she listened attentively.
When I had finished she said:
‘I know that I am very often rather foolish and don’t
