2
Lewis Serrocold was
standing1 by the window in the library.
There was no one else in the room.
He turned as Miss Marple came in and came forward to meet her, taking
her hand in his.
“I hope,” he said, “that you are not feeling the worse for the shock. To be
at close quarters with what is
undoubtedly2 murder must be a great strain
on anyone who has not come in contact with such a thing before.”
Modesty3 forbade Miss Marple to reply that she was, by now, quite at
home with murder. She merely said that life in St. Mary
Mead4 was not
quite so sheltered as outside people believed.
“Very nasty things go on in a village, I assure you,” she said. “One has an
opportunity of studying things there that one would never have in a
town.”
Lewis Serrocold listened indulgently, but with only half an ear.
He said very simply: “I want your help.”
“But of course, Mr. Serrocold.”
“It is a matter that affects my wife—affects Caroline. I think that you are
really attached to her?”
“Yes, indeed. Everyone is.”
“That is what I believed. It seems that I am wrong. With the permission
knows. Or perhaps I should say what only one person knows.”
Briefly7, he told her what he had told Inspector Curry the night before.
“I can’t believe it, Mr. Serrocold. I really can’t believe it.”
“That is what I felt when
Christian9 Gulbrandsen told me.”
“I should have said that dear Carrie Louise had not got an enemy in the
world.”
“It seems incredible that she should have. But you see the implication?
Poisoning—slow poisoning—is an intimate family matter. It must be one
of our closely knit little household—”
“If it is true. Are you sure that Mr. Gulbrandsen was not mistaken?”
“Christian was not mistaken. He is too cautious a man to make such a
statement without foundation. Besides, the police took away Caroline’s
medicine bottle and a separate sample of its contents. There was
arsenic10
in both of them—and arsenic was not prescribed. The actual
quantitative11
tests will take longer—but the actual fact of arsenic being present is estab-
lished.”
“Then her rheumatism—the difficulty in walking—all that—”
“Yes, leg
cramps12 are typical, I understand. Also, before you came, Car-
oline had had one or two severe attacks of a
gastric13 nature — I never
dreamed until Christian came—”
He broke off. Miss Marple said softly: “So Ruth was right!”
“Ruth?”
Lewis Serrocold sounded surprised. Miss Marple flushed.
“There is something I have not told you. My coming here was not en-
tirely fortuitous. If you will let me explain — I’m afraid I tell things so
badly. Please have patience.”
Lewis Serrocold listened whilst Miss Marple told him of Ruth’s unease
and urgency.
“Extraordinary,” he commented. “I had no idea of this.”
“It was all so vague,” said Miss Marple. “Ruth herself didn’t know why
she had this feeling. There must be a reason—in my experience there al-
ways is—but ‘something wrong’ was as near as she could get.”
Lewis Serrocold said grimly:
“Well, it seems that she was right. Now, Miss Marple, you see how I am
placed. Am I to tell Caroline of this?”
Miss Marple said quickly, “Oh no,” in a
distressed14 voice, and then
flushed and stared doubtfully at Lewis. He nodded.
“So you feel as I do? As Christian Gulbrandsen did. Should we feel like
that with an ordinary woman?”
“Carrie Louise is not an ordinary woman. She lives by her trust, by her
belief in human nature—oh dear, I am expressing myself very badly. But I
do feel that until we know who—”
“Yes, that is the
crux15. But you do see, Miss Marple, that there is a risk in
saying nothing—”
“And so you want me to—how shall I put it?—watch over her?”
“You see, you are the only person whom I can trust,” said Lewis Serro-
cold simply. “Everyone here seems
devoted16. But are they? Now your at-
tachment goes back many years.”
“And also I only arrived a few days ago,” said Miss Marple
pertinently17.
Lewis Serrocold smiled.
“Exactly.”
“It is a very mercenary question,” said Miss Marple apologetically. “But
who exactly would benefit if dear Carrie Louise were to die?”
“Money!” said Lewis bitterly. “It always boils down to money, does it?”
“Well, I really think it must in this case. Because Carrie Louise is a very
sweet person with a great deal of charm, and one cannot really imagine
anyone disliking her. She couldn’t, I mean, have an enemy. So then it does
boil down, as you put it, to a question of money, because as you don’t need
me to tell you, Mr. Serrocold, people will quite often do anything for
money.”
“I suppose so, yes.”
He went on: “Naturally Inspector Curry has already taken up that point.
Mr. Gilroy is coming down from London today and can give
detailed18 in-
formation. Gilroy, Gilroy, Jaimes and Gilroy are a very
eminent19 firm of
lawyers. This Gilroy’s father was one of the original trustees and they
drew up both Caroline’s will and the original will of Eric Gulbrandsen. I
will put it in simple terms for you—”
“Thank you,” said Miss Marple gratefully. “So mystifying the law, I al-
ways think.”
“Eric Gulbrandsen after endowment of the College and his various fel-
lowships and trusts and other charitable
bequests20, and having settled an
equal sum on his daughter Mildred and on his adopted daughter Pippa
(Gina’s mother), left the remainder of his vast fortune in trust, the income
from it to be paid to Caroline for her lifetime.”
“And after her death?”
“After her death it was to be divided equally between Mildred and Pippa
—or their children, if they themselves had predeceased Caroline.”
“So that, in fact, it goes to Mrs. Strete and to Gina.”
“Yes. Caroline has also quite a considerable fortune of her own—though
not in the Gulbrandsen class. Half of this she made over to me four years
ago. Of the remaining amount, she left ten thousand pounds to Juliet Bel-
lever, and the rest equally divided between Alex and Stephen Restarick,
her two stepsons.”
“Oh dear,” said Miss Marple. “That’s bad. That’s very bad.”
“You mean?”
“It means everyone in the house had a financial
motive21.”
“Yes. And yet, you know, I can’t believe that any of these people would
do murder. I simply can’t … Mildred is her daughter—and already quite
well provided for. Gina is devoted to her grandmother. She is generous
and
extravagant22, but has no acquisitive feelings. Jolly Bellever is fanatic-
ally devoted to Caroline. The two Restaricks care for Caroline as though
she were really their mother. They have no money of their own to speak
of, but quite a lot of Caroline’s income has gone towards financing their
enterprises—especially so with Alex. I simply can’t believe either of those
two would
deliberately23 poison her for the sake of inheriting money at her
death. I just can’t believe any of it, Miss Marple.”
“There’s Gina’s husband, isn’t there?”
“Yes,” said Lewis gravely. “There is Gina’s husband.”
“You don’t really know much about him. And one can’t help seeing that
he’s a very unhappy young man.”
Lewis sighed.
“He hasn’t fitted in here—no. He’s no interest in or sympathy for what
we’re trying to do. But after all, why should he? He’s young, crude, and he
comes from a country where a man is
esteemed24 by the success he makes
of life.”
“Whilst here we are so very fond of failures,” said Miss Marple.
Lewis Serrocold looked at her sharply and suspiciously.
She flushed a little and murmured rather incoherently:
“I think sometimes, you know, one can
overdo25 things the other way … I
mean the young people with a good heredity, and brought up wisely in a
good home—and with
grit26 and pluck and the ability to get on in life—well,
they are really, when one comes down to it—the sort of people a country
needs.”
Lewis frowned and Miss Marple hurried on, getting pinker and pinker
and more and more incoherent.
“Not that I don’t appreciate—I do indeed—you and Carrie Louise—a
really noble work—real compassion—and one should have compassion—
because after all it’s what people are that counts—good and bad luck—and
much more expected (and rightly) of the lucky ones. But I do think some-
times one’s sense of proportion — oh, I don’t mean you, Mr. Serrocold.
Really I don’t know what I mean—but the English are rather odd that way.
Even in war, so much prouder of their defeats and their retreats than of
their victories. Foreigners never can understand why we’re so proud of
Dunkerque. It’s the sort of thing they’d prefer not to mention themselves.
But we always seem to be almost embarrassed by a victory—and treat it as
though it weren’t quite nice to boast about it. And look at all our poets!
‘The Charge of the Light Brigade.’ And the little Revenge went down in the
Spanish Main. It’s really a very odd characteristic when you come to think
of it!”
Miss Marple drew a fresh breath.
“What I really mean is that everything here must seem rather
peculiar27
to young Walter Hudd.”
“Yes,” Lewis allowed. “I see your point. And Walter has certainly a fine
war record. There’s no doubt about his bravery.”
“Not that that helps,” said Miss Marple
candidly28. “Because war is one
thing, and everyday life is quite another. And actually to commit a
murder, I think you do need bravery—or perhaps, more often, just con-
“But I would hardly say that Walter Hudd had a sufficient motive.”
“Wouldn’t you?” said Miss Marple. “He hates it here. He wants to get
away. He wants to get Gina away. And if it’s really money he wants, it
would be important for Gina to get all the money before she—er—defin-
“An attachment to someone else,” said Lewis, in an astonished voice.
Miss Marple wondered at the blindness of enthusiastic social reformers.
“That’s what I said. Both the Restaricks are in love with her, you know.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” said Lewis absently.
He went on:
“Stephen’s
invaluable31 to us—quite invaluable. The way he’s got those
lads coming along — keen — interested. They gave a splendid show last
month. Scenery, costumes, everything. It just shows, as I’ve always said to
Maverick32, that it’s lack of drama in their lives that leads these boys to
crime. To dramatise yourself is a child’s natural instinct. Maverick says—
ah yes, Maverick—”
Lewis broke off.
“I want Maverick to see Inspector Curry about Edgar. The whole thing is
so ridiculous really.”
“What do you really know about Edgar Lawson, Mr. Serrocold?”
“Everything,” said Lewis
positively33. “Everything, that is, that one needs
to know. His background, upbringing—his deep-seated lack of confidence
in himself—”
Miss Marple interrupted.
“Couldn’t Edgar Lawson have poisoned Mrs. Serrocold?” she asked.
“Hardly. He’s only been here a few weeks. And anyway, it’s ridiculous!
Why should Edgar want to poison my wife? What could he possibly gain
by doing so?”
“Nothing material, I know. But he might have—some odd reason. He is
odd, you know.”
“You mean unbalanced?”
“I suppose so. No, I don’t—not quite. What I mean is, he’s all wrong.”
It was not a very
lucid35 exposition of what she felt. Lewis Serrocold ac-
cepted the words at their face value.
“Yes,” he said with a sigh. “He’s all wrong, poor lad. And he was showing
such marked improvement. I can’t really understand why he had this sud-
Miss Marple leaned forward eagerly.
“Yes, that’s what I wondered. If—”
She broke off as Inspector Curry came into the room.
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