‘I must see Christian first,’ she said.

‘Oh no, dear. Don’t upset yourself — ’

Carrie Louise put her very gently to one side.

‘Dear Jolly — you don’t understand.’ She looked round and said, ‘Jane?’

Miss Marple had already moved towards her.

‘Come with me, will you, Jane.’

They moved together towards the door. Dr Maverick, coming in, almost collided with them.

Miss Bellever exclaimed:

‘Dr Maverick. Do stop her. So foolish.’

Carrie Louise looked calmly at the young doctor. She even gave a tiny smile.

Dr Maverick said: ‘You want to go and — see him?’

‘I must.’

‘I see.’ He stood aside. ‘If you feel you must, Mrs Serrocold. But afterwards, please go and lie down and let Miss Bellever look after you. At the moment you do not feel the shock, but I assure you that you will do so.’

‘Yes. I expect you are right. I will be quite sensible. Come, Jane.’

The two women moved out through the door, past the foot of the main staircase and along the corridor, past the dining-room on the right and the double doors leading to the kitchen quarters on the left, past the side door to the terrace and on to the door that gave admission to the Oak suite that had been allotted to Christian Gulbrandsen. It was a room furnished as a sitting-room more than a bedroom, with a bed in an alcove to one side and a door leading into a dressing-room and bathroom.

Carrie Louise stopped on the threshold. Christian Gulbrandsen had been sitting at the big mahogany desk with a small portable typewriter open in front of him. He sat there now, but slumped sideways in the chair. The high arms of the chair prevented him from slipping to the floor.

Lewis Serrocold was standing by the window. He had pulled the curtain a little aside and was gazing out into the night.

He looked round and frowned.

‘My dearest, you shouldn’t have come.’

He came towards her and she stretched out a hand to him. Miss Marple retreated a step or two.

‘Oh yes, Lewis. I had to — see him. One has to know just exactly how things are.’

She walked slowly towards the desk.

Lewis said warningly:

‘You mustn’t touch anything. The police must have things left exactly as we found them.’

‘Of course. He was shot deliberately by someone, then?’

‘Oh yes.’ Lewis Serrocold looked a little surprised that the question had even been asked. ‘I thought — you knew that?’

‘I did really. Christian would not commit suicide, and he was such a competent person that it could not possibly have been an accident. That only leaves’ — she hesitated a moment — ‘murder.’

She walked up behind the desk and stood looking down at the dead man. There was sorrow and affection in her face.

‘Dear Christian,’ she said. ‘He was always good to me.’

Softly, she touched the top of his head with her fingers.