Miss Marple looked puzzled. 'what do you mean, not sent her home?'
'The body,' said Cherry, her cheerfulness unimpaired. 'The doctor said there'd have to be an autopsy. Postmortem - whatever you call it. He said he hadn't attended her for anything and there was nothing to show the cause of death. Looks funny to me,' she added.
'Now what do you mean by funny?' said Miss Marple.
'Well.' Cherry considered. 'Funny. As though there was something behind it.'
'Is her husband terribly upset?'
'Looks as white as a sheet. Never saw a man as badly hit, to look at - that is to say.'
Miss Marple's ears, long attuned to delicate nuances, led her to cock her head slightly on one side like an inquisitive bird.
'Was he so very devoted to her?'
'He did what she told him and gave her her own way,' said Cherry, 'but that doesn't always mean you're devoted, does it? It may mean you haven't got the courage to stick up for yourself.'
'You didn't like her?' asked Miss Marple.
'I hardly know her really,' said Cherry. 'Knew her, I mean. I don't - didn't - dislike her. But she's just not my type. Too interfering.'
'You mean inquisitive, nosy?'
'No, I don't,' said Cherry. 'I don't mean that at all. She was a very kind woman and she was always doing things for people. And she was always quite sure she knew the best thing to do. What they thought about it wouldn't have mattered. I had an aunt like that. Very fond of seed cake herself and she used to bake seed cakes for people and take them to them, and she never troubled to find out whether they liked seed cake or not. There are people can't bear it, just can't stand the flavour of caraway. Well, Heather Badcock was a bit like that.'
'Yes,' said Miss Marple thoughtfully, 'yes, she would have been. I knew someone a little like that. Such people,' she added, 'live dangerously - though they don't know it themselves.'
Cherry stared at her. 'That's a funny thing to say. I don't quite get what you mean.'
Miss Knight bustled in. 'Mrs Bantry seems to have gone out,' she said. 'She didn't say where she was going.'
'I can guess where she's going,' said Miss Marple. 'She's coming here. I shall get up now,' she added.
II
Miss Marple had just ensconced herself in her favourite chair by the window when Mrs Bantry arrived. She was slightly out of breath.
'I've got plenty to tell you, Jane,' she said.
'About the fкte?' asked Miss Knight, 'you went to the fкte yesterday, didn't you? I was there myself for a short time early in the afternoon. The tea tent was very crowded. An astonishing lot of people seemed to be there. I didn't catch a glimpse of Marina Gregg, though, which was rather disappointing.'
She flicked a little dust off a table and said brightly, 'Now, I'm sure you two want to have a nice little chat together,' and went out of the room.
'She doesn't seem to know anything about it,' said Bantry. She fixed her friend with a keen glance. 'Jane, I believe - you do know.'
'You mean about the death yesterday?'
'You always know everything,' said Mrs Bantry. 'I cannot think how.'
'Well, really dear,' said Miss Marple, 'in the same way one always has known everything. My daily helper, Cherry Baker, brought the news. I expect the butcher will be telling Miss Knight presently.'
'And what do you think of it?' said Mrs Bantry.
'What do I think of what?' said Miss Marple.
'Now don't be aggravating, Jane, you know perfectly what I mean. There's this woman - whatever her name is -'
'Heather Badcock,' said Miss Marple.
'She arrives full of life and spirit. I was there when she came. And about a quarter of an hour later she sits down in a chair, says she doesn't feel well, gasps a bit and dies. What do you think of that?'
'One mustn't jump to conclusions,' said Miss Marple. 'The point is, of course, what did a medical man think of it?'
Mrs Bantry nodded. 'There's to be an inquest and a post-mortem,' she said. 'That shows what they think of it, doesn't it?'
'Not necessarily,' said Miss Marple. 'Anyone may be taken ill and die suddenly and they have to have a post-mortem to find out the cause.'
'It's more than that,' said Mrs Bantry.
'How do you know?' said Miss Marple.
'Dr Sandford went home and rang up the police.'
'Who told you that?' said Miss Marple, with great interest.
'Old Briggs,' said Mrs Bantry. 'At least, he didn't tell me. You know he goes down after hours in the evening to see to Dr Sandford's garden, and he was clipping something quite close to the study and he heard the doctor ringing up the police station in Much Benham. Briggs told his daughter and his daughter mentioned it to the postwoman and she told me,' said Mrs Bantry.
Miss Marple smiled. 'I see,' she said, 'that St Mary Mead has not changed very much from what it used to be.'
'The grape-vine is much the same,' agreed Mrs Bantry. 'Well, now, Jane, tell me what you think?'
'One thinks, of course, of the husband,' said Miss Marple reflectively. 'Was he there?'
'Yes, he was there. You don't think it would be suicide,' said Mrs Bantry.
'Certainly not suicide,' said Miss Marple decisively. 'She wasn't the type.'
'How did you come across her, Jane?'
'It was the day I went for a walk to the Development, and fell down near her house. She was kindness itself. She was a very kind woman.'
'Did you see the husband? Did he look as though he'd like to poison her?
'You know what I mean,' Mrs Bantry went on as Miss Marple showed some slight signs of protesting. 'Did he remind you of Major Smith or Berrie Jones or someone you've known years ago who did poison a wife, or tried to?'
'No,' said Miss Marple, 'he didn't remind me of anyone I know.' She added, 'But she did.'
'Who - Mrs Badcock?'
'Yes,' said Miss Marple, 'she reminded me of someone called Alison Wilde.'
'And what was Alison Wilde like?'
'She didn't know at all,' said Miss Marple slowly, 'what the world was like. She didn't know what people were like. She'd never thought about them. And so, you see, she couldn't guard against things happening to her.'
'I don't really think I understand a word of what you're saying,' said Mrs Bantry.
'It's very difficult to explain exactly,' said Miss Marple, apologetically. 'It comes really from being self-centred and I don't mean selfish by that,' she added. 'You can be kind and unselfish and even thoughtful. But if you're like Alison Wilde, you never really know what you may be doing. And so you never know what may happen to you.'
'Can't you make that a little clearer?' said Mrs Bantry.
'Well, I suppose I could give you a sort of figurative example. This isn't anything that actually happened, it's just something I'm inventing.'
'Go on,' said Mrs Bantry.
'Well, supposing you went into a shop, say, and you knew the proprietress had a son who was the spivvy young juvenile delinquent type. He was there listening while you told his mother about some money you had in the house, or some silver or a piece of jewellery. It was something you were excited and pleased about and you wanted to talk about it. And you also perhaps mention an evening that you were going out. You even say that you never lock the house. You're interested in what you're saying, what you're telling her, because it's so very much in your mind. And then, say, on that particular evening you come home because you've forgotten something and there's this bad lot of a boy in the house, caught in the act, and he turns round and coshes you.'
'That might happen to almost anybody nowadays,' said Mrs Bantry.
'Not quite,' said Miss Marple, 'most people have a sense of protection. They realise when it's unwise to say or do something because of the person or persons who are taking in what you say, and because of the kind of character that those people have. But as I say, Alison Wilde never thought of anybody else but herself - She was the sort of person who tells you what they've done and what they've seen and what they've felt and what they've heard. They never mention what any other people said or did. Life is a kind of one-way track - just their own progress through it. Other people seem to them just like - like wall-paper in a room.' She paused and then said, 'I think Heather Badcock was that kind of person.'
Mrs Bantry said, 'You think she was the sort of person who might have butted into something without knowing what she was doing?'
'And without realising that it was a dangerous thing to do,' said Miss Marple. She added, 'It's the only reason I can possibly think of why she should have been killed. If of course,' added Miss Marple, 'we are right in assuming that murder has been commited.'
'You don't think she was blackmailing someone?' Mrs Bantry suggested.
'Oh, no,' Miss Marple assured her. 'She was a kind, good woman. She'd never have done anything of that kind.' She added vexedly, 'The whole thing seems to me very unlikely. I suppose it can't have been -'
'Well?' Mrs Bantry urged her.
'I just wondered if it might have been the wrong murder,' said Miss Marple thoughtfully.
The door opened and Dr Haydock breezed in, Miss Knight twittering behind him.
'Ah, at it already, I see,' said Dr Haydock, looking at the two ladies. 'I came in to see how your health was,' he said to Miss Marple, 'but I needn't ask. I see you've begun to adopt the treatment that I suggested.'
'Treatment, Doctor?'
Dr Haydock pointed a finger at the knitting that lay on the table beside her. 'Unravelling," he said. 'I'm right, aren't I?'
Miss Marple twinkled very slightly in a discreet, old-fashioned kind of way.
'You will have your joke, Doctor Haydock,' she said.
'You can't pull the wool over my eyes, my dear lady. I've known you too many years. Sudden death at Gossington Hall and all the tongues of St. Mary Mead are wagging. Isn't that so? Murder suggested long before anybody even knows the result of the inquest.'
'When is the inquest to be held?' asked Miss Marple.
'The day after tomorrow,' said Dr Haydock, 'and by that time,' he said, 'you ladies will have reviewed the whole story, decided on the verdict and decided on a good many other points too, I expect. Well,' he added, 'I shan't waste my time here. It's no good wasting time on a patient that doesn't need my ministrations. Your cheeks are pink, your eyes are bright, you've begun to enjoy yourself. Nothing like having an interest in life. I'll be on my way.' He stomped out again.
'I'd rather have him than Sandford any day,' said Mrs Bantry.
'So would I,' added Miss Marple. 'He's a good friend, too,' she added thoughtfully. 'He came, I think, to give me the go-ahead sign.'
'Then it was murder,' said Mrs Bantry. They looked at each other. 'At any rate, the doctors think so.'
Miss Knight brought in cups of coffee. For once in their lives, both ladies were too impatient to welcome this interruption.
When Miss Knight had gone Miss Marple started immediately. 'Now then, Dolly, you were there -'
'I practically saw it happen,' said Mrs Bantry, with modest pride.
'Splendid,' said Miss Marple. 'I mean - well, you know what I mean. So you can tell me just exactly what happened from the moment she arrived.'
'I'd been taken into the house,' said Mrs Bantry. 'Snob status.'
'Who took you in?'
'Oh, a willowy-looking young man. I think he's Marina Gregg's secretary or something like that. He took me in, up the staircase. They were having a kind of reunion reception committee at the top of the stairs.'
'On the landing?' said Miss Marple, surprised.
'Oh, they've altered all that. They've knocked the dressing-room and bedroom down so that you've got a big sort of alcove, practically a room. It's very attractive looking.'
'I see. And who was there?'
'Marina Gregg, being natural and charming, looking lovely in a sort of willowy grey-green dress. And the husband, of course, and that woman Ella Zielinsky I told you about. She's their social secretary. And there were about - oh, eight or ten people I should think. Some of them I knew, some of them I didn't. Some I think were from the studios - the ones I didn't know. There was the vicar and Doctor Sandford's wife. He wasn't there himself until later, and Colonel and Mrs Clittering and the High Sheriff. And I think there was someone from the press there. And a young woman with a big camera taking photographs.'
Miss Marple nodded.
'Go on.'
'Heather Badcock and her husband arrived just after me. Marina Gregg said nice things to me, then to somebody else, oh yes, - the vicar - and then Heather Badcock and her husband came. She's the secretary, you know, of the St John Ambulance. Somebody said something about that and how hard she worked and how valuable she was. And Marina Gregg said some pretty things. Then Mrs Badcock, who struck me, I must say, Jane, as rather a tiresome sort of woman, began some long rigmarole of how years before she'd met Marina Gregg somewhere. She wasn't awfully tactful about it since she urged exactly how long ago and the year it was and everything like that. I'm sure that actresses and film stars and people don't really like being reminded of the exact age they are. Still, she wouldn't think of that I suppose.'
