Chapter 23 Chapter Twenty-Three

On the way home, I suggested to Griselda that we take a detour from the cemetery.I'm anxious to find out if the police are investigating, and if so, what they found.But Griselda had business to do, so I went alone. I saw Sergeant Hurst in charge of the operation. "No leads yet, sir," he reported, "but this should be the only place of hiding." The word "hide" he used confuses me a bit because he pronounces it "capture".Still, I understood immediately what he really meant. "I mean, sir, where can the young woman go from that road into the woods? The road goes from the 'old house' to here, and that's the way it is."

"I think," I said, "that Inspector Slack would look down on the simplicity of having this young lady called out." "It's just frightening to worry about," Hurst said. "Anything she writes to Stone, or anything he writes to her, will give clues—once she knows we're after her, she'll be like that." shut up." What will happen is unknown.However, I personally doubt that Miss Gladys Crumb will keep her mouth shut as he said.I can't imagine her doing anything other than her eloquence. "When a man's a liar, you want to know why on earth he's a liar," said Inspector Hurst coquettishly.

"Of course," I said. "The answer will be found in this cemetery here, otherwise why is he so busy here?" "Look for raison d'etre (French: reason for being)," I said, but the bit of French stumped the policeman.Without borrowing French, he replied coldly: "That's an amateur view." "Anyway, you haven't found the suitcase yet," I said. "We shall find out, sir, without doubt." "I'm not so sure," I said. "I've been thinking about it. Miss Marple said that after a while, the girl came back empty-handed. So she won't have time to come here and go back."

"You don't have to listen to what the old ladies say. Oh, time flies for them when they see something strange and wait anxiously. After all, no woman knows time very well." clear." I often wonder why the world is so drawn to generalizations.Generalizations are seldom correct, and often downright wrong.I have a poor sense of time myself (so I often have to set the alarm clock fast), and I must say that Miss Marple has a very accurate sense of time.Her alarm clock is never off by a minute, and she is extremely punctual for all occasions. However, I have no intention of arguing with Sergeant Hearst on this point.I said good afternoon to him and wished him luck and left.

Just as I was about to get home, a thought came to my mind.Nothing caused the idea to arise, it just popped into my mind as a possible answer. You must remember that on the day of the murder I searched the path for the first time and found that somewhere the bushes had been trampled upon.I now think that Lawrence was trampling through the bushes, and he was searching for something like me. But, I remember, he and I later came across another lightly traced path, which the Inspector had left behind.I agonized over it, and I distinctly remember that the first way (Lawrence's) was more obvious than the second, and it seemed more than one person had traveled that way.Perhaps this, I reasoned, had attracted Lawrence's attention.What if the original road was left by Dr. Stone or Miss Crumb?

I remember, or I think I remember, a few dead leaves on a broken branch.If so, the traces of the road could not have been left by the afternoon of our search. I'm approaching that spot.I found the way easily and struggled through the bushes again.This time, I found a newly broken branch.Someone did come down the road after me and Lawrence. I soon came to the place where I had met Lawrence.However, the slight road stretches even further.I continued to walk along the trail.Suddenly the path widened into an open field showing signs of recent excavation.I say open land, because the dense vines on the ground thinned out here, but the branches intertwined overhead.The whole place is only a few feet long and wide.

On the other side, the vines had thickened again, as if it was quite clear that no one had walked through them recently.However, there is one place that seems to have been flipped. I walked over, knelt down, and pushed the bushes back with both hands.A brown surface flashed before my eyes.Excitedly, I stretched out my arms and pulled out a brown suitcase. I made a successful call and I finally succeeded.In spite of Sergeant Hurst's indifference and slight, I proved my reasoning correct. Here, no doubt, was the box that Miss Crumb had brought.I tried the hasp and it was locked. As I stood up, I noticed a small shiny brown thing on the ground.

I picked it up and put it in my pocket. Then, I held the handle and walked towards the path. As I climbed the steps to the path, a nearby excited voice called out: "Oh! Mr. Claremont, you've found it! You're so clever!" I couldn't help feeling that Miss Marple was unrivaled in her ability to see without being seen.I stabilized the suitcase on the wooden fence between us. "That's the one," said Miss Marple, "I'll recognize it anywhere." I think that's a bit of an exaggeration.There are thousands of cheap shiny suitcases, all identical.At such a long distance on a moonlit night, no one could specifically identify a particular box.But the success of the case was due to Miss Marple, and she was therefore entitled to a little pardonable boasting.

"Mr. Claremont, I suppose the chest is locked, is it not?" "Yes. I'm going to take the box to the police." "Wouldn't it be better to call?" Of course, it is definitely better to call.Walking through the village with a suitcase in hand might be too conspicuous.I don't want to. So I unlatched Miss Marple's garden door, entered the house through the French windows, shut the drawing-room door, and, in a state of secrecy, telephoned to report the situation. As a result, said Inspector Slack, he was coming right away. When he came, he was in a very bad temper.

"So we've found the box, haven't we?" he said. "You know, sir, you shouldn't do it on your own. If you had reason to believe that you knew where the objects you were looking for were hidden, you should have reported to the relevant authorities." Authorities report." "It's just by chance," I said, "that idea just occurred to me." "It's kind of like making up a story. Nearly a mile of shrubbery and you walk right up to the exact spot and you reach for it." I had intended to tell Inspector Slack the steps of reasoning that had led me to the exact spot, but he aroused my usual distaste for him.I said nothing.

"Sing?" said Inspector Slack, eyeing the box with disgust, even indifference. "I think we've got to see what's in there." He brought a set of keys and string.The lock was of poor quality and after a few minutes, the case opened. I don't know what we were expecting to find--something very exciting, probably.But the first thing that catches our eye is a greasy check scarf.The inspector held out the scarf.Then there was a faded dark blue overcoat, too worn out to be worn again.And then another hat with plaid. "A bunch of fakes," said the inspector. Then came a pair of well-worn boots with a low heel.At the bottom of the box, was a package wrapped in newspaper. "It's a valentine's shirt, I suppose," said the inspector sharply as he unwrapped the bag. After a while, he held his breath in amazement. For in the bag were some real silverware, and a silver platter. Miss Marple recognized the objects and gave a shriek. "Salt shaker," she cried, "Colonel Protheroe's salt shaker, and Charles II's mug. Have you heard of such things?" The inspector's face flushed. "That's the way the game is," he whispered, "theft. But I can't figure it out. No one reported the items as missing. " "Perhaps they didn't find what was missing," I said. "I imagine that these precious objects are not used in everyday life. Colonel Protheroe may have locked them in a safe." "I've got to look into this," said the inspector. "I'm going to the 'Old House' right now. That's why Dr. Stone slipped away. Because of the murder and one thing after another, he's afraid we'll sniff To his activities. It is likely that his belongings will be searched. He told the girl to change clothes and hide things in the bushes. His plan was to tell her to stay and avoid suspicion, and he was going to detour back one night. , take things away. Oh, there's an upside. It takes him out of the murder case. He has nothing to do with it. It's a tough game." He rewrapped the things, declined Miss Marple's offer of a glass of sherry and left. "Oh, finally cleared up a doubt," I said, sighing. "Slack is right and there is no basis to suspect him of murder. Everything was explained satisfactorily. " "It does seem so," said Miss Marple, "but one can never be absolutely sure, can one?" "Total lack of motivation," I pointed out. "He's got what he came here for and is about to leave." "Uh-yes." She was clearly not completely satisfied, and I looked at her with a little curiosity.Seeing my questioning gaze, she hastily replied apologetically and earnestly: "I have no doubt that I've been totally mistaken. I've been foolish about these things. But, I'm just wondering—I mean the silver is precious, isn't it?" "I believe a tumbler sold for well over a thousand pounds these days." "I don't mean the value in silver." "Yes, it's the so-called appreciation value." "That's exactly what I mean. Selling something like this takes some time to arrange, and even if it does, it has to be done in secrecy. I mean, if the theft is reported and there's an uproar, oh, these things It simply cannot be sold.” "I don't quite understand what you mean," I said. "I know, I expressed it so badly." She became more flustered and more apologetic. "But I feel—feel that I can't just steal these things, so to speak. The only surefire way is to replace them with copies. Perhaps, then, the theft will go unnoticed for some time. " "That's a unique insight," I said. "That's the only thing that can be done, isn't it? If so, of course you'd say that once the copy was made, there would be no reason whatsoever to murder Colonel Prothero—contrary to our original suspicion." "Indeed," I said, "I think so, too." "Yes, but I just wondered—of course I don't know, Colonel Protheroe always talks a lot about things before actually doing them, and of course sometimes doesn't do them at all, but he does say—" "yes?" "Says he's going to have a valuation of all his things--from London. For probate, say, no, you can only say that if a man dies. He's told it should be done. He Thinking about it a lot, and how important it is. I don't know, of course, whether he made any actual arrangements, but if he did..." "I see." I said slowly. "Of course, once the connoisseur sees the silver, he'll see through it, and Colonel Protheroe will remember showing it to Dr Stone—and I doubt if the silver was then Swapped, juggled, isn't that what people say? So clever—and then, well, in an old-fashioned way, it's revealed." "I see your train of thought," I said, "and I think we ought to make sure." I walked up to the phone again.After a while, I was connected to "The Old House" and I was talking to Anne Protheroe. "No, nothing very important. Has the Inspector arrived? Oh! Oh, he's on his way. Mrs. Protheroe, can you tell me that the contents of the 'Old House' have been valued? What do you say? ?” Her answers were clear and prompt.I thanked her, hung up the receiver, and went back to Miss Marple. "That's clear. Colonel Protheroe had arranged for a man to come here from London on Monday, tomorrow, to make a general appraisal. The death of the Colonel has delayed this." "There is a motive, then," said Miss Marple softly. "Yes, there is a motive. But that's all. You forgot that Dr. Stone was with other people, or was climbing over the steps to get your hands on." "Yes," said Miss Marple thoughtfully, "that way he can be ruled out."