The Murder at the Vicarage-27
The 
Murder at the Vicarage
Chapter Twenty - Seven
Griselda and Dennis had not yet returned. I realized that the most 
natural thing would have been for me to go up to the house with Miss Marple and fetch them 
home. Both she and I had been so entirely taken up with our preoccupation over the mystery 
that we had forgotten anybody existed in the world except ourselves.
I was just standing in the hall, wondering whether I would not even now 
go over and join them, when the doorbell rang.
I crossed over to it. I saw there was a letter in the box and, 
presuming that this was th cause of the ring, I took it out.
As I did so, however, the bell rang again, and I shoved the letter 
hastily into my pocket and opened the front door.
It was Colonel Melchett.
¡°Hullo, Clement. I¡¯m on my way home from town I the car. Thought I¡¯d 
just look in and see if you could give me a drink.¡±
¡°Delighted,¡± I said. ¡°Come into the study.¡±
He pulled off the leather coat that he was wearing and followed me into 
the study. I fetched the whisky and soda and two glasses. Melchett was standing in front 
of the fireplace, legs wide apart, stoking his closely clipped mustache.
¡°I¡¯ve got one bit of news for you, Clement. Most astounding thing 
you¡¯ve ever heard. But let that go for the minute. How are things going down here? Any 
more old ladies hot on the scent?¡±
¡°They¡¯re not doing so badly,¡± I said. ¡°One of them, at all 
events, thinks she¡¯s got there.¡±
¡°Our friend, Miss Marple, eh?¡±
¡°Our friend Miss Marple.¡±
¡°Women like that always think they know everything,¡± said Colonel 
Melchett.
He sipped his whisky and soda appreciatively.
¡°It¡¯s probably unnecessary interference on my part asking,¡± I 
said, ¡°but I suppose somebody has questioned the fish boy. I mean, if the murderer left 
by the front door, there¡¯s a chance the boy may have seen him.¡±
¡°Slack questioned him right enough,¡± said Melchett, ¡°but the boy 
says he didn¡¯t meet anybody. Hardly likely he wold. The murderer wouldn¡¯t be exactly 
courting observation. Lots of cover by your front gate. He would have taken a look to se 
if the road at Mrs. Price Ridley¡¯s. Easy enough to dodge him.¡±
¡°Yes,¡± I said. ¡°I suppose it would be.¡±
¡°On the other hand,¡± went on Melchett, ¡°if by any chance that 
rascal Archer did the job, and young Fred Jackson saw him about the place, I doubt very 
much whether he¡¯d let on. Archer is a cousin of him.¡±
¡°Do you seriously suspect Archer?¡±
¡°Well, you know, old Protheroe had his knife into Archer pretty 
badly. Lots of bad blood between them. Leniency wasn¡¯t Protheroe¡¯s strong point.¡±
¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°He was a very ruthless man.¡±
¡°What I say is,¡± said Melchett, ¡°live and let live. Of course, 
the law¡¯s the law, but it never hurts to give a man the benefit of the doubt. That¡¯s 
what Protheroe never did.¡±
¡°He prided himself on it,¡± I said. There was a paused and then I 
asked, ¡°What is this ¡® astounding bit of news¡¯ you promised me?¡±
¡°Well, it is astounding. You know that unfinished letter that 
Protheroe was wring when he was killed?¡±
¡°Yes.¡±
¡°We got an expert on it ¨C to say whether the six ¨C twenty was 
added by a different hand. Naturally we sent up samples of Protheroe¡¯s handwriting. And 
do you know the verdict? That letter was never written by Protheroe at all.¡±
¡°You mean a forgery?¡±
¡°It¡¯s a forgery. The six ¨C twenty they think is written in a 
different had again 0 but they¡¯re not sure about that. The heading is in a different 
ink, but the letter itself is a forgery. Protheroe never wrote it.¡±
¡°Are they certain?¡±
¡°Well, they¡¯re as certain as experts ever are. You know what an 
expert is! Oh! But they¡¯re sure enough.¡±
¡°Amazing,¡± I said.
Then a memory assailed me.
¡°Why,¡± I said, ¡° remember at the time Mrs. Protheroe said it wasn¡¯t 
like her husband¡¯s handwriting at all, and I took no notice.¡±
¡°Really?¡±
¡°I thought it one of those silly remarks women will make. If there 
seemed one thing sure on earth it was that Protheroe had written that note.¡±
We looked at each other.
¡°It¡¯s curious,¡± I said slowly. ¡°Miss Marple was saying this 
evening that that note was all wrong.¡±
¡°Confound the woman, she couldn¡¯t know more about it if she had 
committed the murder herself.¡±
At that moment the telephone bell rang. There Is a queer kind of 
psychology about a telephone bell. It rang now persistently and with a kind of sinister 
significance.
I went over and took up the receiver.
¡°This is the Vicarage,¡± I said. ¡°Who¡¯s speaking?¡±
A strange, high ¨C pitched, hysterical voice came over the wire.
¡°I want to confess,¡± it said. ¡°My God, I want to 
confess.¡±
¡°Hullo,¡± I said. ¡°Hullo. Look here, you¡¯ve cut me off. What 
number was that?¡±
A languid voice said it didn¡¯t know. It added that it was sorry I had 
been troubled.
I put down the receiver, and turned to Melchett.
¡°You once said,¡± I remarked, ¡° that you would go mad if anyone 
else accused themselves of the crime.¡±
¡°What about it?¡±
¡°That was someone who wanted to confess and the exchange has cut us 
off.¡±
Melchett dashed over and took up the receiver.
¡°I¡¯ll speak to them.¡±
¡°Do,¡± I said. ¡°You may have some effect. I¡¯ll leave you to it, 
I¡¯m going out. I¡¯ve a fancy I recognized that voice.¡±
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