Free The Murder at the Vicarage by Agatha Christie Page B

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 Ñ er Ñ 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
     6.22 Ñ”
    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 Ñ” 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 Ñ why then, they might each of them tell you the truth. And
     the truth
    
    
     is
    
    
     helpful, though I dare say 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 any one else?”
    “Oh! yes, indeed. Why,” she counted on her fingers, “one, two, three, four, five, six Ñ
     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 honourable upright soldier like you doesn't know
     about these things, Colonel Melchett.”
    I thought the Chief Constable was going to have apoplexy.

The Murder at the Vicarage

Chapter X
    His remarks on the subject of Miss Marple as we left the house we're far from
     complimentary.
    “I really believe that wizened?up old maid thinks she knows everything there is to know.
     And hardly been out of this village all her life. Preposterous. What can she know of life?”
    I said mildly that though doubtless Miss Marple knew next to nothing of Life with a
     capital L, she knew practically everything that went on in St. Mary Mead.
    Melchett admitted that grudgingly. She was a valuable witness Ñ particularly valuable from
     Mrs. Protheroe's point of view.
    “I suppose there's no doubt about what she says, eh?”
    “If Miss Marple says she had no pistol with her, you can take it for granted that it is
     so,” I said. “If there was the least possibility of such a thing, Miss Marple would have
     been on to it like a knife.”
    “That's true enough. We'd better go and have a look at the studio.”
    The so?called studio was a mere rough shed with a skylight. There were no windows and the
     door was the only means of entrance or egress. Satisfied on this score, Melchett announced