‘Is it really true, Jane?’ she asked.

‘I’m afraid so, my dear.’

‘Then everything — ’ Carrie Louise broke off.

She went on:

‘I’ve always thought I knew what was real and what wasn’t…This doesn’t seem real — but it is…So I may be wrong everywhere…But who could want to do such a thing to me? Nobody in this house could want to — kill me?’

Her voice still held incredulity.

‘That’s what I would have thought,’ said Lewis. ‘I was wrong.’

‘And Christian knew about it? That explains it.’

‘Explains what?’ asked Lewis.

‘His manner,’ said Carrie Louise. ‘It was very odd, you know. Not at all his usual self. He seemed — upset about me — as though he was wanting to say something to me — and then not saying it. And he asked me if my heart was strong? And if I’d been well lately? Trying to hint to me, perhaps. But why not say something straight out? It’s so much simpler just to say it straight out.’

‘He didn’t want to — cause you pain, Caroline.’

‘Pain? But why — Oh I see…’ Her eyes widened. ‘So that’s what you believe. But you’re wrong, Lewis, quite wrong. I can assure you of that.’

Her husband avoided her eyes.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Mrs Serrocold after a moment or two. ‘But I can’t believe anything of what has happened lately is true. Edgar shooting at you. Gina and Stephen. That ridiculous box of chocolates. It just isn’t true.’

Nobody spoke.

Caroline Louise Serrocold sighed.

‘I suppose,’ she said, ‘that I must have lived outside reality for a long time…Please, both of you, I think I would like to be alone…I’ve got to try and understand…’

II

Miss Marple came down the stairs and into the Great Hall to find Alex Restarick standing near the large arched entrance door with his hand flung out in a somewhat flamboyant gesture.

‘Come in, come in,’ said Alex happily and as though he were the owner of the Great Hall. ‘I’m just thinking about last night.’

Lewis Serrocold, who had followed Miss Marple down from Carrie Louise’s sitting-room, crossed the Great Hall to his study and went in and shut the door.

‘Are you trying to reconstruct the crime?’ asked Miss Marple with subdued eagerness.

‘Eh?’ Alex looked at her with a frown. Then his brow cleared.

‘Oh that,’ he said. ‘No, not exactly. I was looking at the whole thing from an entirely different point of view. I was thinking of this place in the terms of the theatre. Not reality, but artificiality! Just come over here. Think of it in the terms of a stage set. Lighting, entrances, exits. Dramatis Personae. Noises off. All very interesting. Not all my own idea. The Inspector gave it to me. I think he’s rather a cruel man. He did his best to frighten me this morning.’

‘And did he frighten you?’

‘I’m not sure.’

Alex described the Inspector’s experiment and the timing of the performance of the puffing Constable Dodgett.