IV

At Gossington, Mrs. Bantry and Miss Marple were sitting in the drawingroom.

“You know,” said Mrs. Bantry, “I can’t help feeling glad they’ve taken thebody away. It’s not nice to have a body in one’s house.”

Miss Marple nodded.

“I know, dear. I know just how you feel.”

“You can’t,” said Mrs. Bantry; “not until you’ve had one. I know you hadone next door once, but that’s not the same thing. I only hope,” she wenton, “that Arthur won’t take a dislike to the library. We sit there so much.

What are you doing, Jane?”

For Miss Marple, with a glance at her watch, was rising to her feet.

“Well, I was thinking I’d go home. If there’s nothing more I can do foryou?”

“Don’t go yet,” said Mrs. Bantry. “The fingerprint men and the photo-graphers and most of the police have gone, I know, but I still feel some-thing might happen. You don’t want to miss anything.”

The telephone rang and she went off to answer. She returned with abeaming face.

“I told you more things would happen. That was Colonel Melchett. He’sbringing the poor girl’s cousin along.”

“I wonder why,” said Miss Marple.

“Oh, I suppose, to see where it happened and all that.”

“More than that, I expect,” said Miss Marple.

“What do you mean, Jane?”

“Well, I think—perhaps—he might want her to meet Colonel Bantry.”

Mrs. Bantry said sharply:

“To see if she recognizes him? I suppose — oh, yes, I suppose they’rebound to suspect Arthur.”

“I’m afraid so.”

“As though Arthur could have anything to do with it!”

Miss Marple was silent. Mrs. Bantry turned on her accusingly.

“And don’t quote old General Henderson—or some frightful old manwho kept his housemaid—at me. Arthur isn’t like that.”

“No, no, of course not.”

“No, but he really isn’t. He’s just—sometimes—a little silly about prettygirls who come to tennis. You know — rather fatuous and avuncular.

There’s no harm in it. And why shouldn’t he? After all,” finished Mrs.

Bantry rather obscurely, “I’ve got the garden.”

Miss Marple smiled.

“You must not worry, Dolly,” she said.

“No, I don’t mean to. But all the same I do a little. So does Arthur. It’s up-set him. All these policemen prowling about. He’s gone down to the farm.

Looking at pigs and things always soothes him if he’s been upset. Hallo,here they are.”

The Chief Constable’s car drew up outside.

Colonel Melchett came in accompanied by a smartly dressed young wo-man.

“This is Miss Turner, Mrs. Bantry. The cousin of the—er—victim.”

“How do you do,” said Mrs. Bantry, advancing with outstretched hand.

“All this must be rather awful for you.”

Josephine Turner said frankly: “Oh, it is. None of it seems real, some-how. It’s like a bad dream.”

Mrs. Bantry introduced Miss Marple.

Melchett said casually: “Your good man about?”

“He had to go down to one of the farms. He’ll be back soon.”

“Oh—” Melchett seemed rather at a loss.

Mrs. Bantry said to Josie: “Would you like to see where — where ithappened? Or would you rather not?”

Josephine said after a moment’s pause:

“I think I’d like to see.”

Mrs. Bantry led her to her library with Miss Marple and Melchett follow-ing behind.

“She was there,” said Mrs. Bantry, pointing dramatically; “on the hearth-rug.”

“Oh!” Josie shuddered. But she also looked perplexed. She said, herbrow creased: “I just can’t understand it! I can’t!”

“Well, we certainly can’t,” said Mrs. Bantry.

Josie said slowly:

“It isn’t the sort of place—” and broke off.

Miss Marple nodded her head gently in agreement with the unfinishedsentiment.

“That,” she murmured, “is what makes it so very interesting.”

“Come now, Miss Marple,” said Colonel Melchett goodhumouredly,“haven’t you got an explanation?”

“Oh yes, I’ve got an explanation,” said Miss Marple. “Quite a feasibleone. But of course it’s only my own idea. Tommy Bond,” she continued,“and Mrs. Martin, our new schoolmistress. She went to wind up the clockand a frog jumped out.”

Josephine Turner looked puzzled. As they all went out of the room shemurmured to Mrs. Bantry: “Is the old lady a bit funny in the head?”

“Not at all,” said Mrs. Bantry indignantly.

Josie said: “Sorry; I thought perhaps she thought she was a frog or some-thing.”

Colonel Bantry was just coming in through the side door. Melchetthailed him, and watched Josephine Turner as he introduced them to eachother. But there was no sign of interest or recognition in her face.

Melchett breathed a sigh of relief. Curse Slack and his insinuations!

In answer to Mrs. Bantry’s questions Josie was pouring out the story ofRuby Keene’s disappearance.

“Frightfully worrying for you, my dear,” said Mrs. Bantry.

“I was more angry than worried,” said Josie. “You see, I didn’t knowthen that anything had happened to her.”

“And yet,” said Miss Marple, “you went to the police. Wasn’t that—ex-cuse me—rather premature?”

Josie said eagerly:

“Oh, but I didn’t. That was Mr. Jefferson—”

Mrs. Bantry said: “Jefferson?”

“Yes, he’s an invalid.”

“Not Conway Jefferson? But I know him well. He’s an old friend of ours.

Arthur, listen—Conway Jefferson. He’s staying at the Majestic, and it washe who went to the police! Isn’t that a coincidence?”

Josephine Turner said:

“Mr. Jefferson was here last summer too.”

“Fancy! And we never knew. I haven’t seen him for a long time.” Sheturned to Josie. “How—how is he, nowadays?”

Josie considered.

“I think he’s wonderful, really—quite wonderful. Considering, I mean.

He’s always cheerful—always got a joke.”

“Are the family there with him?”

“Mr. Gaskell, you mean? And young Mrs. Jefferson? And Peter? Oh, yes.”

There was something inhibiting Josephine Turner’s usual attractivefrankness of manner. When she spoke of the Jeffersons there was some-thing not quite natural in her voice.

Mrs. Bantry said: “They’re both very nice, aren’t they? The young ones, Imean.”

Josie said rather uncertainly:

“Oh yes—yes, they are. I—we—yes, they are, really.”