The Murder at the Vicarage-9
The Murder at the Vicarage
Chapter Nine
After leaving a message at the police station, the Chief Constable
announced his intention of paying a visit to Miss Marple.
"You’d better come with me, Vicar," he said. "I
don’t want to give a member of your flock hysterics. So lend the weight of your
soothing presence."
I smiled. For all her fragile appearance. Miss Marple is capable of
holding her own with any policeman or chief constable in existence.
"What’s she like?" Asked the Colonel as we rang the
bell. "Anything she says to be depended upon or otherwise?"
I considered the matter.
"I think she is quite dependable," I said cautiously.
"That is, in so far as she is talking of what she has actually seen. Beyond that, of
course, when you get on to what she thinks – well, that is another matter. She has a
powerful imagination, and systematically thins the worst of everyone."
"The typical elderly spinster, in fact," said Melchett with a
laugh. "Well, I ought to know the breed by now. Gad, the tea parties down here!"
We were admitted by a very diminutive maid and shown into a small
drawing – room.
"A bit crowded," said Colonel Melchett, looking round.
"But plenty of good stuff. A lady’s room, eh, Clement?"
I agreed, and at that moment the door opened and Miss Marple made her
appearance. 
"Very sorry to bother you, Miss Marple," said the Colonel
when I had introduced him, putting on his bluff, military manner, which he had an idea was
attractive to elderly ladies. "Got to do my duty, you know."
"Of course, of course," said Miss Marple. "I quite
understand. Won’t you sit down? And might I offer you a little glass of cherry
brandy? My own making. A receipt of my grandmother’s.
"Thank you very much, Miss Marple. Very kind of you. But I think I
won’t. Nothing till lunchtime, that’s my motto. Now, I want to talk to you about
this sad business – very sad business indeed. Upset us all, I’m sure. Well, it
seems possible that, owing to the position of your house and garden, you may have been
able to tell us something we want to know about yesterday evening."
"As a matter of fact, I was in my little garden from five
o’clock onward yesterday, and of course from there – well, one simply cannot
help seeing anything that is going on next door."
"I understand, Miss Marple, that Mrs. Protheroe passed this way
yesterday evening."
"Yes, she did. I called out to her, and she admired my
roses."
"Could you tell us about what time that was?"
"I should say it was just a minute or two after a quarter past
six. Yes, that’s right. The church clock had just chimed the quarter."
"Very good. What happened next?"
"Well, Mrs. Protheroe said she was calling for her husband at the
Vicarage, so that they could go home together. She had come along the lane, you
understand, and she went into the Vicarage by the back gate and across the garden."
"She came from the lane?"
"Yes, I’ll show you." 
Full of eagerness, Miss Marple led us out into the garden, and pointed
out the lane that ran along by the bottom of her garden.
"The path opposite with the stile leads to the Hall," she
explained. "That was the way they were going home together. Mrs. Protheroe came from
the village."
"Perfectly, perfectly," said Colonel Melchett. "And she
went across to the Vicarage, you say?"
"Yes. I saw her turn the corner of the house. I suppose the
Colonel wasn’t there yet, because she came back almost immediately, and went down the
lawn to the studio – that building there. The one the Vicar lets Mr. Redding use as a
studio."
"I see. And – you didn’t happen to hear a shot, Miss
Marple?"
"I didn’t hear a shot then," said Miss Marple.
"But you did hear one sometime?"
"Yes, I think there was a shot somewhere in the woods. But quite
five or ten minutes afterward – and, as I say, out in the woods. At least, I think
so. It couldn’t have been – surely it couldn’t have been…"
She stopped, pale with excitement.
"Yes, yes, we’ll come to all that presently," said
Colonel Melchett. "Please go on with your story. Mrs. Protheroe went down to the
studio?"
"Yes, she went inside and waited. Presently Mr. Redding came along
the lane from the village. He came to the Vicarage gate, looked all round…"
"And saw you, Miss Marple."
"As a matter of fact, he didn’t see me" said Miss Marple
flushing slightly. "Because, you see, just at that minute I was bending right over
– trying to get up one of those nasty dandelions, you know. So difficult. And then he
went through the gate and down to the studio."
"He didn’t go near the house?"
"Oh, no, he went straight to the studio. Mrs. Protheroe came to
the door to meet him, and then they both went inside."
Here Miss Marple contributed a singularly eloquent pause.
"Perhaps she was sitting to him," I suggested.
"Perhaps," said Miss Marple.
"And they came out – when?"
"About ten minutes later."
"That was roughly?"
"The church clock had chimed the half – hour. The strolled
out through the garden gate and along the lane, and just at that minute Doctor Stone came
down the path leading to the Hall and climbed over the stile and joined them. They all
walked toward the village together. At the end of the lane I think, but I can’t be
quite sure, they were jointed by Miss Cram. I think it must have been Miss Cram, because
her skirts were so short."
"You must have very good eyesight, Miss Marple, if you can observe
as far as that."
"I was observing a bird," said Miss Marple. "A golden
– crested wren, I think he was. A sweet little fellow. I had my glasses out, and
that’s how I happened to see Miss Cram (if it was Miss Cram, and I think so) join
them."
"Ah! Well, that may be so," said Colonel Melchett. "Now,
since you seem very good at observing, did you happen to notice, Miss Marple, what sort of
expression Mrs. Protheroe and Mr. Redding had as they passed along the lane?"
"They were smiling and talking," said Miss Marple. "They
seemed very happy to be together, if you know what I mean."
"They didn’t seem upset of disturbed in any way?"
"Oh, no. Just the opposite."
"Deuced odd," said the Colonel. "There’s something
deuced odd about the whole thing."
Miss Maple suddenly took our breath away by remarking in a placid
voice, {"Has Mrs Protheroe been saying that she committed the crime now?"
"Upon my soul," said the Colonel. "How did you come to
guess that, Miss Marple?"
"Well, I rather thought it might happen," said Miss Marple.
"I think dear Lettice thought so, too. She’s really a very sharp girl. Not
always very scrupulous, I’m afraid. So Anne Protheroe said she killed her husband.
Well, well. I don’t think it’s true. NO, I’m almost sure it isn’t
true. Not with a woman like Anne Protheroe. Although one never can be quite sure about
anyone, can one? At least that’s what I’ve found. When does she say she shot
him?"
"At twenty minutes past six. Just after speaking to you."
Miss Marple shook her head slowly and pityingly. The pity was, I think,
for two full-grown men being so foolish as to believe such a story. At least that is what
we felt like.
"What did she shoot him with?"
"A pistol."
"Where did she find it?"
"She brought it with her."
"Well, that she didn’t do," said Miss Marple with
unexpected decision. "I can swear to that. She’d no such thing with her."
"You mightn’t have seen it."
"Of course I should have seen it."
"If it had been in her handbag."
"She wasn’t carrying a handbag."
"Well, it might have been concealed – er – upon her
person."
Miss Marple directed a glance of sorrow and scorn upon him.
"My dear Colonel Melchett. You know what young women are nowadays.
Not ashamed to show exactly how the creator made them. She hadn’t so much as a
handkerchief in the top of her stocking."
Melchett was obstinate.
"You must admit that it all fits in," he said. "The time, the overturned
clock pointing to six twenty – two…"
Miss Marple turned on me.
"Do you mean you haven’t told him about that clock yet?"
"What about the clock, Clement?"
I told him. He showed a good deal of annoyance. 
"Why on earth didn’t you tell Slack this last night?"
"Because," I said, "he wouldn’t let me."
"Nonsense, you ought to have insisted."
"Probably," I said, "Inspector Slack behaves quite
differently to you than he does to me. I had no earthly chance of insisting."
"It’s an extraordinary business altogether," said
Melchett. "If a third person comes along and claims to have done this murder, I shall
go into a lunatic asylum."
"If I might be allowed to suggest…" murmured Miss
Marple.
"Well?"
"If you were to tell Mr. Redding what Mrs. Protheroe has done, and
then explain that you don’t really believe it is her; and then if you were to go to
Mrs. Protheroe and tell her that Mr. Redding is all right – why then, they might each
of them tell you the truth. And the truth is helpful, though I daresay they don’t
know very much themselves, poor things."
"It’s all very well, but they are the only two people who had
a motive for making away with Protheroe."
"Oh, I wouldn’t say that, Colonel Melchett," said Miss
Marple.
"Why, can you think of anyone else?"
"Oh, yes, indeed. Why," she counted on her fingers,
"one, two, three, four, five, six – yes, and a possible seven. I can think of at
least seven people who might be very glad to have Colonel Protheroe out of the way."
The Colonel looked at her feebly.
"Seven people? In St. Mary Mead?"
Miss Marple nodded brightly.
"Mind you, I name no names," she said. "That
wouldn’t be right. But I’m afraid there’s a lot of wickedness in the world.
A nice, honorable, upright soldier like you doesn’t know about these things, Colonel
Melchett."
I thought the Chief Constable was going to have apoplexy.
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