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Five
1
the gardens. Their condition distressed2 her. They had once been an ambi-
lawn, massed borders of herbaceous plants, clipped box-hedges surround-
them, the paths moss-covered and neglected. The kitchen gardens on the
other hand, enclosed by red brick walls, were prosperous and well
stocked. That, presumably, was because they had a utility value. So, also, a
large portion of what had once been lawn and flower garden, was now
Surveying the herbaceous border, Miss Marple clicked her tongue vex-
edly and pulled up a flourishing plant of groundsel.
As she stood with it in her hand, Edgar Lawson came into view. Seeing
Miss Marple, he stopped and hesitated. Miss Marple had no mind to let
him escape. She called him briskly. When he came she asked him if he
knew where any gardening tools were kept.
know.
“It’s such a pity to see this border so neglected,” twittered Miss Marple.
“I’m so fond of gardens.” And since it was not her intention that Edgar
“It’s about all an old and useless woman can find to do. Now I don’t sup-
pose you ever bother your head about gardens, Mr. Lawson. You have so
much real and important work to do. Being in a responsible position here,
with Mr. Serrocold. You must find it all most interesting.”
He answered quickly, almost eagerly:
“Yes—yes—it is interesting.”
“And you must be of the greatest assistance to Mr. Serrocold.”
His face darkened.
“I don’t know. I can’t be sure. It’s what’s behind it all—”
He broke off. Miss Marple watched him thoughtfully. A pathetic under-
sized young man, in a neat dark suit. A young man that few people would
look at twice, or remember if they did look….
There was a garden seat nearby and Miss Marple drifted towards it and
sat. Edgar stood frowning in front of her.
“I’m sure,” said Miss Marple brightly, “that Mr. Serrocold relies on you a
great deal.”
“I don’t know,” said Edgar. “I really don’t know.” He frowned and al-
most absently sat down beside her. “I’m in a very difficult position.”
“Yes?” said Miss Marple.
The young man Edgar sat staring in front of him.
“This is all highly confidential,” he said suddenly.
“Of course,” said Miss Marple.
“If I had my rights—”
“Yes?”
“I might as well tell you … you won’t let it go any further I’m sure?”
“Oh no.” She noticed he did not wait for her disclaimer.
“My father—actually, my father is a very important man.”
This time there was no need to say anything. She had only to listen.
“Nobody knows except Mr. Serrocold. You see, it might prejudice my
father’s position if the story got out.” He turned to her. He smiled. A sad,
“Oh,” said Miss Marple. “I see.”
And she did see. She remembered a rather sad story in St. Mary Mead—
and the way it had gone.
Edgar Lawson went on, and what he said had the familiarity of a stage
scene.
“There were reasons. My mother wasn’t free. Her own husband was in
an asylum—there could be no divorce—no question of marriage. I don’t
really blame them. At least, I think I don’t … He’s done, always, everything
he could. Discreetly10, of course. And that’s where the trouble has arisen.
He’s got enemies—and they’re against me, too. They’ve managed to keep
us apart. They watch me. Wherever I go, they spy on me. And they make
things go wrong for me.”
Miss Marple shook her head.
“Dear, dear,” she said.
ams—they altered the answers. They wanted me to fail. They followed me
me wherever I go.”
“Oh, but you can’t be sure of that,” said Miss Marple soothingly13.
“I tell you I know! Oh they’re very cunning. I never get a glimpse of them
or find out who they are. But I shall find out … Mr. Serrocold took me
away from London and brought me down here. He was kind—very kind.
But even here, you know, I’m not safe. They’re here, too. Working against
me. Making the others dislike me. Mr. Serrocold says that isn’t true—but
Mr. Serrocold doesn’t know. Or else—I wonder—sometimes I’ve thought
—”
He broke off. He got up.
“This is all confidential,” he said. “You do understand that, don’t you?
But if you notice anyone following me—spying, I mean—you might let me
know who it is!”
He went away, then—neat, pathetic, insignificant14. Miss Marple watched
him and wondered….
“Nuts,” it said. “Just nuts.”
pockets and he was frowning as he stared after Edgar’s retreating figure.
the whole lot of them.”
Miss Marple said nothing and Walter went on.
“That Edgar guy—what do you make of him? Says his father’s really
Lord Montgomery. Doesn’t seem likely to me! Not Monty! Not from all I’ve
heard about him.”
“No,” said Miss Marple. “It doesn’t seem very likely.”
the heir to the Russian throne—said he was some Grand Duke’s son or
other. Hell, doesn’t the chap know who his father really was?”
“I should imagine not,” said Miss Marple. “That is probably just the
trouble.”
Walter sat down beside her, dropping his body onto the seat with a slack
movement. He repeated his former statement.
“They’re all bughouse here.”
“You don’t like being at Stonygates?”
The young man frowned.
“I simply don’t get it—that’s all! I don’t get it. Take this place—the house
they’ve got it. And look at the way they live. Cracked antique china and
cheap plain stuff all mixed up. No proper upper class servants—just some
casual hired help. Tapestries20 and drapes and chaircovers all satin and bro-
just doesn’t care. Look at that dress she had on last night. Darned under
the arms, nearly worn out—and yet she could go to a store and order what
she liked. Bond Street or whatever it is. Dough? They’re rolling in dough.”
He paused and sat, deliberating.
“I understand being poor. There’s nothing much wrong with it. If you’re
young and strong and ready to work. I never had much money, but I was
all set to get where I wanted. I was going to open a garage. I’d got a bit of
money put by. I talked to Gina about it. She listened. She seemed to under-
stand. I didn’t know much about her. All those girls in uniform, they look
about the same. I mean you can’t tell from looking at them who’s got
dough and who hasn’t. I thought she was a cut above me, perhaps, educa-
tion and all that. But it didn’t seem to matter. We fell for each other. We
got married. I’d got my bit put by and Gina had some too, she told me. We
were going to set up a gas station back home—Gina was willing. Just a
couple of crazy kids we were—mad about each other. Then that snooty
aunt of Gina’s started making trouble … And Gina wanted to come here to
England to see her grandmother. Well, that seemed fair enough. It was her
home, and I was curious to see England anyway. I’d heard a lot about it.
So we came. Just a visit—that’s what I thought.”
“But it hasn’t turned out like that. We’re caught up in this crazy busi-
ness. Why don’t we stay here—make our home here—that’s what they say.
stand their luck? Don’t they understand that most of the world can’t have
a swell place like this and that they’ve got one? Isn’t it plain crazy to kick
your luck when you’ve got it? I don’t mind working if I’ve got to. But I’ll
work the way I like and at what I like—and I’ll work to get somewhere.
This place makes me feel I’m tangled up in a spider’s web. And Gina—I
can’t make Gina out. She’s not the same girl I married over in the States. I
can’t—dang it all—I can’t even talk to her now. Oh hell!”
Miss Marple said gently:
“I quite see your point of view.”
Wally shot a swift glance at her.
“You’re the only one I’ve shot my mouth off to so far. Most of the time I
enough, really English—but in the durndest way you remind me of my
aunt Betsy back home.”
“Now that’s very nice.”
though you could snap her in two, but actually she was tough—yes, sir, I’ll
say she was tough.”
He got up.
“Sorry talking to you this way,” he apologised. For the first time, Miss
Marple saw him smile. It was a very attractive smile and Wally Hudd was
suddenly transfigured from an awkward sulky boy into a handsome and
appealing young man. “Had to get things off my chest, I suppose. But too
bad picking on you.”
“Not at all, my dear boy,” said Miss Marple. “I have a nephew of my own
—only, of course, a great deal older than you are.”
Her mind dwelt for a moment on the sophisticated modern writer Ray-
mond West. A greater contrast to Walter Hudd could not have been ima-
gined.
doesn’t like me. So I’ll quit. So long, ma’am. Thanks for the talk.”
He strode away and Miss Marple watched Mildred Strete coming across
the lawn to join her.
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