I nodded, with some trepidation. I wondered how I would feel if it turned out that all three of the murder victims were vindictive monsters while alive. The words “MAY THEY NEVER REST IN PEACE” passed through my mind, swiftly followed by Poirot’s account of his meeting with Jennie, her insistence that justice would finally be done once she was dead . . .

“Ida was a dreadful prig,” said Margaret. “She was every inch as sanctimonious as Harriet in her outward behavior, but she was driven by fear and by faith in the rules we are all supposed to obey rather than by the thrill of persecution. Denouncing the sins of others wasn’t a pleasure for Ida as it was for Harriet. She saw it as her moral duty as a good Christian.”

“When you say fear, do you mean fear of divine retribution?”

“Oh, that, certainly, but not only that,” said Margaret. “Different people regard rules differently, no matter what those rules happen to be. Mutinous characters like me always resent constraints, even perfectly sensible ones, but there are some who welcome their existence and enforcement because it makes them feel safer. Protected.”

“And Ida Gransbury was the second sort?”

“I think so, yes. She would not have said so. She was always careful to present herself as a woman driven by strong principle and nothing else. No shameful human weaknesses for Ida! I am sorry she is dead, though she did untold harm while alive. Unlike Harriet, Ida believed in redemption. She wanted to save sinners, while Harriet wanted only to revile them and feel elevated by comparison. I think Ida would have forgiven a demonstrably repentant sinner. She was reassured by contrition of the standard Christian sort. It bolstered her view of the world.”

“What untold harm did Ida do?” I asked. “To whom?”

“Come back and ask me that question tomorrow.” Her tone was generous but firm.

“To Patrick and Frances Ive?”

“Tomorrow, Mr. Catchpool.”

“What can you tell me about Richard Negus?” I asked.

“Precious little, I’m afraid. He left Great Holling soon after Charles and I arrived. I think he was an authoritative presence in the village—a man people listened to and took advice from. Everybody speaks of him with the greatest respect, apart from Ida Gransbury. She never spoke of him at all after he left both her and Great Holling behind.”

“Was it his decision or hers to call off the marriage plans?” I asked.

“His.”

“How do you know that she never spoke of him afterward? Perhaps to others she did, even if not to you?”

“Oh, Ida wouldn’t have spoken to me about Richard Negus or anything else. I know only what I have been told by Ambrose Flowerday, the village doctor, but there is no more reliable man on earth. Ambrose gets to hear about most things that go on, as long as he remembers to leave the door to his waiting room ajar.”