If Letitia Blacklock seemed slightly absentminded when Mrs. Harmon came to tea and brought a guest who was staying with her, Miss Marple, the guest in question, was hardly likely to notice the fact since it was the first time she had met her.

The old lady was very charming in her gentle gossipy fashion. She revealed herself almost at once to be one of those old ladies who have a constant preoccupation with burglars.

“They can get in anywhere, my dear,” she assured her hostess, “absolutely anywhere nowadays. So many new American methods. I myself pin my faith to a very old-fashioned device. A cabin hook and eye. They can pick locks and draw back bolts but a brass hook and eye defeats them. Have you ever tried that?”

“I’m afraid we’re not very good at bolts and bars,” said Miss Blacklock cheerfully. “There’s really nothing much to burgle.”

“A chain on the front door,” Miss Marple advised. “Then the maid need only open it a crack and see who is there and they can’t force their way in.”

“I expect Mitzi, our Mittel European, would love that.”

“The hold-up you had must have been very, very frightening,” said Miss Marple. “Bunch has been telling me all about it.”

“I was scared stiff,” said Bunch.

“It was an alarming experience,” admitted Miss Blacklock.

“It really seems like Providence that the man tripped himself up and shot himself. These burglars are so violent nowadays. How did he get in?”

“Well, I’m afraid we don’t lock our doors much.”

“Oh, Letty,” exclaimed Miss Bunner. “I forgot to tell you the Inspector was most peculiar this morning. He insisted on opening the second door—you know—the one that’s never been opened—the one over there. He hunted for the key and everything and said the door had been oiled. But I can’t see why because—”

Too late she got Miss Blacklock’s signal to be quiet, and paused openmouthed.

“Oh, Lotty, I’m so—sorry—I mean, oh, I do beg your pardon, Letty—oh, dear, how stupid I am.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Miss Blacklock, but she was annoyed. “Only I don’t think Inspector Craddock wants that talked about. I didn’t know you had been there when he was experimenting, Dora. You do understand, don’t you, Mrs. Harmon?”

“Oh, yes,” said Bunch. “We won’t breathe a word, will we, Aunt Jane. But I wonder why he—”

She relapsed into thought. Miss Bunner fidgeted and looked miserable, bursting out at last: “I always say the wrong thing—Oh, dear, I’m nothing but a trial to you, Letty.”

Miss Blacklock said quickly, “You’re my great comfort, Dora. And anyway in a small place like Chipping Cleghorn there aren’t really any secrets.”