‘I suppose when they killed poor Margery some of the blood must have spurted over Carol’s bathing suit, and being a red one they didn’t notice it, as Miss Marple says. But when they hung it over the balcony it dripped. Ugh!’ she gave a shiver. ‘I can see it still.’

‘Of course,’ said Sir Henry, ‘I remember very well now. Davis was the man’s real name. It had quite slipped my memory that one of his many aliases was Dacre. They were an extraordinarily cunning pair. It always seemed so amazing to me that no one spotted the change of identity. I suppose, as Miss Marple says, clothes are more easily identified than faces; but it was a very clever scheme, for although we suspected Davis it was not easy to bring the crime home to him as he always seemed to have an unimpeachable alibi.’

‘Aunt Jane,’ said Raymond, looking at her curiously, ‘how do you do it? You have lived such a peaceful life and yet nothing seems to surprise you.’

‘I always find one thing very like another in this world,’ said Miss Marple. ‘There was Mrs Green, you know, she buried five children—and every one of them insured. Well, naturally, one began to get suspicious.’

She shook her head.

‘There is a great deal of wickedness in village life. I hope you dear young people will never realize how very wicked the world is.’

Chapter 5

Motive v Opportunity

Mr Petherick cleared his throat rather more importantly than usual.

‘I am afraid my little problem will seem rather tame to you all,’ he said apologetically, ‘after the sensational stories we have been hearing. There is no bloodshed in mine, but it seems to me an interesting and rather ingenious little problem, and fortunately I am in the position to know the right answer to it.’

‘It isn’t terribly legal, is it?’ asked Joyce Lemprière. ‘I mean points of law and lots of Barnaby v Skinner in the year 1881, and things like that.’

Mr Petherick beamed appreciatively at her over his eyeglasses.

‘No, no, my dear young lady. You need have no fears on that score. The story I am about to tell is a perfectly simple and straightforward one and can be followed by any layman.’

‘No legal quibbles, now,’ said Miss Marple, shaking a knitting needle at him.

‘Certainly not,’ said Mr Petherick.

‘Ah well, I am not so sure, but let’s hear the story.’

‘It concerns a former client of mine. I will call him Mr Clode—Simon Clode. He was a man of considerable wealth and lived in a large house not very far from here. He had had one son killed in the War and this son had left one child, a little girl. Her mother had died at her birth, and on her father’s death she had come to live with her grandfather who at once became passionately attached to her. Little Chris could do anything she liked with her grandfather. I have never seen a man more completely wrapped up in a child, and I cannot describe to you his grief and despair when, at the age of eleven, the child contracted pneumonia and died.