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Chapter Twenty-Five
I
she’s got a lot more to say to you.”
“Hell and damnation,” said Inspector Neele.
“Yes, sir,” said Sergeant Hay, not a muscle of his face moving.
He was about to move away when Neele called him back.
“Go over those notes given us by Miss Dove, Hay, notes as to her former
employment and situations. Check up on them—and, yes, there are just
hand, will you?”
geant Hay, who said:
“I’ll get onto it at once, sir.”
looked in. Whether Miss Marple had been looking for him or not, she was
needles clicked busily. The middle of the sentence which Inspector Neele
caught was:
ing. It certainly is very noble work.”
Inspector Neele withdrew quietly. Miss Marple had noticed him, he
thought, but she had taken no notice of his presence.
She went on in her gentle, soft voice:
“I had such a charming nurse looking after me when I once broke my
wrist. She went on from me to nurse Mrs. Sparrow’s son, a very nice
gaged. So romantic I thought it. They were married and were very happy
and had two dear little children.” Miss Marple sighed sentimentally10. “It
does it not.”
“Oh, yes,” said Jennifer Fortescue, “nursing is nearly everything in pneu-
monia, though of course nowadays M and B works wonders, and it’s not
the long, protracted12 battle it used to be.”
“I’m sure you must have been an excellent nurse, my dear,” said Miss
Marple. “That was the beginning of your romance, was it not? I mean you
came here to nurse Mr. Percival Fortescue, did you not?”
“Yes,” said Jennifer. “Yes, yes—that’s how it did happen.”
Her voice was not encouraging, but Miss Marple seemed to take no no-
tice.
“I understand. One should not listen to servants’ gossip, of course, but
I’m afraid an old lady like myself is always interested to hear about the
people in the house. Now what was I saying? Oh, yes. There was another
nurse at first, was there not, and she got sent away—something like that.
Carelessness, I believe.”
“I don’t think it was carelessness,” said Jennifer. “I believe her father or
something was desperately13 ill, and so I came to replace her.”
“I see,” said Miss Marple. “And you fell in love and that was that. Yes,
very nice indeed, very nice.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” said Jennifer Fortescue. “I often wish”—her
“Yes, yes, I understand. You were keen on your profession.”
“I wasn’t so much at the time, but now when I think of it — life’s so
monotonous15, you know. Day after day with nothing to do, and Val so ab-
sorbed in business.”
Miss Marple shook her head.
“Gentlemen have to work so hard nowadays,” she said. “There really
doesn’t seem any leisure, no matter how much money there is.”
“Yes, it makes it very lonely and dull for a wife sometimes. I often wish
I’d never come here,” said Jennifer. “Oh, well, I dare say it serves me right.
I ought never to have done it.”
“Ought never to have done what, my dear?”
“Don’t let’s talk of it anymore.”
Obligingly Miss Marple began to talk about the new skirts that were be-
ing worn in Paris.
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