夜雨聆风“She may,” I said, “but I don’t think she did. Miss Marple is usually right.
That’s what makes her unpopular.”
The Inspector grinned.
“That’s what Hurst says. Lord, these villages!”
“What about the silver, Inspector?”
“Seemed to be perfectly in order. Of course, that meant one lot or theother must be a fake. There’s a very good man in Much Benham, an au-thority on old silver. I’ve phoned over to him and sent a car to fetch him.
We’ll soon know which is which. Either the burglary was an accomplishedfact, or else it was only planned. Doesn’t make a frightful lot of differenceeither way—I mean as far as we’re concerned. Robbery’s a small businesscompared with murder. These two aren’t concerned with the murder.
“A pity about Mr. Redding. It’s not often you find a man who goes out ofhis way to oblige you.”
“I suppose not,” I said, smiling slightly.
“Women cause a lot of trouble,” moralized the Inspector.
He sighed and then went on, somewhat to my surprise: “Of course,there’s Archer.”
“Oh!” I said, “You’ve thought of him?”
“Why, naturally, sir, first thing. It didn’t need any anonymous letters toput me on his track.”
“Anonymous letters,” I said sharply. “Did you get one, then?”
“That’s nothing new, sir. We get a dozen a day, at least. Oh, yes, we wereput wise to Archer. As though the police couldn’t look out for themselves!
Archer’s been under suspicion from the first. The trouble of it is, he’s gotan alibi. Not that it amounts to anything, but it’s awkward to get over.”
