II
“So kind of you not to interrupt just now,” said Miss Marple when, hav-
ing tapped at the door of the study,
Inspector1 Neele had told her to come
in. “There were just one or two little points, you know, that I wanted to
verify.” She added reproachfully: “We didn’t really finish our talk just
now.”
“I’m so sorry, Miss Marple.” Inspector Neele summoned up a charming
smile. “I’m afraid I was rather rude. I summoned you to a
consultation2
and did all the talking myself.”
“Oh, that’s quite all right,” said Miss Marple immediately, “because, you
see, I wasn’t really quite ready then to put all my cards on the table. I
mean I wouldn’t like to make any
accusation3 unless I was absolutely sure
about it. Sure, that is, in my own mind. And I am sure, now.”
“You’re sure about what, Miss Marple?”
“Well, certainly about who killed Mr. Fortescue. What you told me about
the marmalade, I mean, just
clinches4 the matter. Showing how, I mean, as
well as who, and well within the mental capacity.”
Inspector Neele blinked a little.
“I’m so sorry,” said Miss Marple, perceiving this reaction on his part,
“I’m afraid I find it difficult sometimes to make myself
perfectly5 clear.”
“I’m not quite sure yet, Miss Marple, what we’re talking about.”
“Well, perhaps,” said Miss Marple, “we’d better begin all over again. I
mean if you could spare the time. I would rather like to put my own point
of view before you. You see, I’ve talked a good deal to people, to old Miss
Ramsbottom and to Mrs. Crump and to her husband. He, of course, is a
liar6, but that doesn’t really matter because, if you know
liars7 are liars, it
comes to the same thing. But I did want to get the telephone calls clear and
the nylon stockings and all that.”
Inspector Neele blinked again and wondered what he had let himself in
for and why he had ever thought that Miss Marple might be a desirable
and clearheaded colleague. Still, he thought to himself, however muddle-
headed she was, she might have picked up some useful bits of informa-
tion. All Inspector Neele’s success in his profession had come from listen-
ing well. He was prepared to listen now.
“Please tell me all about it, Miss Marple,” he said, “but start at the begin-
ning, won’t you.”
“Yes, of course,” said Miss Marple, “and the beginning is Gladys. I mean I
came here because of Gladys. And you very
kindly8 let me look through all
her things. And what with that and the nylon stockings and the telephone
calls and one thing and another, it did come out perfectly clear. I mean
about Mr. Fortescue and the taxine.”
“You have a theory?” asked Inspector Neele, “as to who put the taxine
into Mr. Fortescue’s marmalade.”
“It isn’t a theory,” said Miss Marple. “I know.”
For the third time Inspector Neele blinked.
“It was Gladys, of course,” said Miss Marple.
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