II

Well, that was that. I walked away from the house feeling slightly dazedbut irritatingly conscious of Rose’s passionately interested gaze followingme.

Rose had had a good deal to say before I could escape.

That she’d never felt the same since that awful day! That she wouldn’thave stayed except for the children and being sorry for poor Mr. Sym-mington. That she wasn’t going to stay unless they got another maid quick—and they wouldn’t be likely to do that when there had been a murder inthe house! That it was all very well for that Miss Holland to say she’d dothe housework in the meantime. Very sweet and obliging she was—Ohyes, but it was mistress of the house that she was fancying herself going tobe one fine day! Mr. Symmington, poor man, never saw anything—butone knew what a widower was, a poor helpless creature made to be theprey of a designing woman. And that it wouldn’t be for want of trying ifMiss Holland didn’t step into the dead mistress’s shoes!

I assented mechanically to everything, yearning to get away and unableto do so because Rose was holding firmly on to my hat whilst she indulgedin her flood of spite.

I wondered if there was any truth in what she said. Had Elsie Hollandenvisaged the possibility of becoming the second Mrs. Symmington? Orwas she just a decent kindhearted girl doing her best to look after a be-reaved household?

The result would quite likely be the same in either case. And why not?

Symmington’s young children needed a mother—Elsie was a decent soul—beside being quite indecently beautiful—a point which a man might ap-preciate—even such a stuffed fish as Symmington!

I thought all this, I know, because I was trying to put off thinking aboutMegan.

You may say that I had gone to ask Megan to marry me in an absurdlycomplacent frame of mind and that I deserved what I got—but it was notreally like that. It was because I felt so assured, so certain, that Megan be-longed to me—that she was my business, that to look after her and makeher happy and keep her from harm was the only natural right way of lifefor me, that I had expected her to feel, too, that she and I belonged to eachother.

But I was not giving up. Oh no! Megan was my woman and I was goingto have her.

After a moment’s thought, I went to Symmington’s office. Megan mightpay no attention to strictures on her conduct, but I would like to get thingsstraight.

Mr. Symmington was disengaged, I was told, and I was shown into hisroom. By a pinching of the lips, and an additional stiffness of manner, Igathered that I was not exactly popular at the moment.

“Good morning,” I said. “I’m afraid this isn’t a professional call, but apersonal one. I’ll put it plainly. I dare say you’ll have realized that I’m inlove with Megan. I’ve asked her to marry me and she has refused. But I’mnot taking that as final.”

I saw Symmington’s expression change, and I read his mind withludicrous ease. Megan was a disharmonious element in his house. He was,I felt sure, a just and kindly man, and he would never have dreamed ofnot providing a home for his dead wife’s daughter. But her marriage to mewould certainly be a relief. The frozen halibut thawed. He gave me a palecautious smile.

“Frankly, do you know, Burton, I had no idea of such a thing. I knowyou’ve taken a lot of notice of her, but we’ve always regarded her as sucha child.”

“She’s not a child,” I said shortly.

“No, no, not in years.”

“She can be her age anytime she’s allowed to be,” I said, still slightlyangry. “She’s not twenty-one, I know, but she will be in a month or two. I’lllet you have all the information about myself you want. I’m well off andhave led quite a decent life. I’ll look after her and do all I can to make herhappy.”

“Quite—quite. Still, it’s up to Megan herself.”

“She’ll come round in time,” I said. “But I just thought I’d like to getstraight with you about it.”

He said he appreciated that, and we parted amicably.

III

I ran into Miss Emily Barton outside. She had a shopping basket on herarm.

“Good morning, Mr. Burton, I hear you went to London yesterday.”

Yes, she had heard all right. Her eyes were, I thought, kindly, but full ofcuriosity, too.

“I went to see my doctor,” I said.

Miss Emily smiled.

That smile made little of Marcus Kent. She murmured:

“I hear Megan nearly missed the train. She jumped in when it was go-ing.”

“Helped by me,” I said. “I hauled her in.”

“How lucky you were there. Otherwise there might have been an acci-dent.”

It is extraordinary how much of a fool one gentle inquisitive old maidenlady can make a man feel!

I was saved further suffering by the onslaught of Mrs. Dane Calthrop.

She had her own tame elderly maiden lady in tow, but she herself was fullof direct speech.

“Good morning,” she said. “I heard you’ve made Megan buy herselfsome decent clothes? Very sensible of you. It takes a man to think of some-thing really practical like that. I’ve been worried about that girl for a longtime. Girls with brains are so liable to turn into morons, aren’t they?”

With which remarkable statement, she shot into the fish shop.

Miss Marple, left standing by me, twinkled a little and said:

“Mrs. Dane Calthrop is a very remarkable woman, you know. She’snearly always right.”

“It makes her rather alarming,” I said.

“Sincerity has that effect,” said Miss Marple.

Mrs. Dane Calthrop shot out of the fish shop again and rejoined us. Shewas holding a large red lobster.

“Have you ever seen anything so unlike Mr. Pye?” she said—“very virileand handsome, isn’t it?”