II

Mrs. Bantry put down the telephone receiver with a sigh of annoyance.

She had rung up twice, and each time the answer had been the same: MissMarple was out.

Of a naturally impatient nature, Mrs. Bantry was never one to acquiescein defeat. She rang up in rapid succession the vicarage, Mrs. Price Ridley,Miss Hartnell, Miss Wetherby, and, as a last resource, the fishmonger who,by reason of his advantageous geographical position, usually knew whereeverybody was in the village.

The fishmonger was sorry, but he had not seen Miss Marple at all in thevillage that morning. She had not been her usual round.

“Where can the woman be?” demanded Mrs. Bantry impatiently aloud.

There was a deferential cough behind her. The discreet Lorrimer mur-mured:

“You were requiring Miss Marple, madam? I have just observed her ap-proaching the house.”

Mrs. Bantry rushed to the front door, flung it open, and greeted MissMarple breathlessly:

“I’ve been trying to get you everywhere. Where have you been?” Sheglanced over her shoulder. Lorrimer had discreetly vanished.

“Everything’s too awful! People are beginning to cold-shoulder Arthur. Helooks years older. We must do something, Jane. You must do something!”

Miss Marple said:

“You needn’t worry, Dolly,” in a rather peculiar voice.

Colonel Bantry appeared from the study door.

“Ah, Miss Marple. Good morning. Glad you’ve come. My wife’s beenringing you up like a lunatic.”

“I thought I’d better bring you the news,” said Miss Marple, as she fol-lowed Mrs. Bantry into the study.

“News?”

“Basil Blake has just been arrested for the murder of Ruby Keene.”

“Basil Blake?” cried the Colonel.

“But he didn’t do it,” said Miss Marple.

Colonel Bantry took no notice of this statement. It is doubtful if he evenheard it.

“Do you mean to say he strangled that girl and then brought her alongand put her in my library?”

“He put her in your library,” said Miss Marple. “But he didn’t kill her.”

“Nonsense! If he put her in my library, of course he killed her! The twothings go together.”

“Not necessarily. He found her dead in his own cottage.”

“A likely story,” said the Colonel derisively. “If you find a body, why, youring up the police—naturally—if you’re an honest man.”

“Ah,” said Miss Marple, “but we haven’t all got such iron nerves as youhave, Colonel Bantry. You belong to the old school. This younger genera-tion is different.”

“Got no stamina,” said the Colonel, repeating a well-worn opinion of his.

“Some of them,” said Miss Marple, “have been through a bad time. I’veheard a good deal about Basil. He did A.R.P. work, you know, when he wasonly eighteen. He went into a burning house and brought out four chil-dren, one after another. He went back for a dog, although they told him itwasn’t safe. The building fell in on him. They got him out, but his chestwas badly crushed and he had to lie in plaster for nearly a year and was illfor a long time after that. That’s when he got interested in designing.”

“Oh!” The Colonel coughed and blew his nose. “I—er—never knew that.”

“He doesn’t talk about it,” said Miss Marple.

“Er—quite right. Proper spirit. Must be more in the young chap than Ithought. Always thought he’d shirked the war, you know. Shows youought to be careful in jumping to conclusions.”

Colonel Bantry looked ashamed.

“But, all the same”—his indignation revived—“what did he mean tryingto fasten a murder on me?”

“I don’t think he saw it like that,” said Miss Marple. “He thought of itmore as a—as a joke. You see, he was rather under the influence of alco-hol at the time.”

“Bottled, was he?” said Colonel Bantry, with an Englishman’s sympathyfor alcoholic excess. “Oh, well, can’t judge a fellow by what he does whenhe’s drunk. When I was at Cambridge, I remember I put a certain utensil—well, well, never mind. Deuce of a row there was about it.”

He chuckled, then checked himself sternly. He looked piercingly at MissMarple with eyes that were shrewd and appraising. He said: “You don’tthink he did the murder, eh?”

“I’m sure he didn’t.”

“And you think you know who did?”

Miss Marple nodded.

Mrs. Bantry, like an ecstatic Greek chorus, said: “Isn’t she wonderful?”

to an unhearing world.

“Well, who was it?”

Miss Marple said:

“I was going to ask you to help me. I think, if we went up to SomersetHouse we should have a very good idea.”