夜雨聆风Miss Marple folded the letter and handed it back. She looked abstracted.
“Well, what do you think about her?” Craddock urged. “What picture doyou get of her?
“Of Sonia? It’s difficult, you know, to see anyone through another per-son’s mind … Determined to get her own way—that, definitely, I think.
And wanting the best of two worlds….”
“Closing and unclosing her hands like an angry cat,” murmured Craddock.
“You know, that reminds me of someone….”
He frowned.
“Making enquiries …” murmured Miss Marple.
“If we could get hold of the result of those inquiries,” said Craddock.
“Does that letter remind you of anything in St. Mary Mead?” askedBunch, rather indistinctly since her mouth was full of pins.
“I really can’t say it does, dear … Dr. Blacklock is, perhaps, a little likeMr. Curtiss the Wesleyan Minister. He wouldn’t let his child wear a plateon her teeth. Said it was the Lord’s Will if her teeth stuck out. ‘After all,’ Isaid to him, ‘you do trim your beard and cut your hair. It might be theLord’s Will that your hair should grow out.’ He said that was quite differ-ent. So like a man. But that doesn’t help us with our present problem.”
“We’ve never traced that revolver, you know. It wasn’t Rudi Scherz. If Iknew who had had a revolver in Chipping Cleghorn—”
“Colonel Easterbrook has one,” said Bunch. “He keeps it in his collardrawer.”
“How do you know, Mrs. Harmon?”
“Mrs. Butt told me. She’s my daily. Or rather, my twice weekly. Being amilitary gentleman, she said, he’d naturally have a revolver and veryhandy it would be if burglars were to come along.”
“When did she tell you this?”
“Ages ago. About six months ago, I should think.”
“Colonel Easterbrook?” murmured Craddock.
“It’s like those pointer things at fairs, isn’t it?” said Bunch, still speakingthrough a mouthful of pins. “Go round and round and stop at somethingdifferent every time.”
“You’re telling me,” said Craddock and groaned.
“Colonel Easterbrook was up at Little Paddocks to leave a book thereone day. He could have oiled that door then. He was quite straightforwardabout being there though. Not like Miss Hinchcliffe.”
Miss Marple coughed gently. “You must make allowances for the timeswe live in, Inspector,” she said.
Craddock looked at her, uncomprehendingly.
“After all,” said Miss Marple. “you are the Police, aren’t you? Peoplecan’t say everything they’d like to say to the Police, can they?”
“I don’t see why not,” said Craddock. “Unless they’ve got some criminalmatter to conceal.”
