Chapter 24 Section 24

"I seem to have made a mess of it! No one would," said Dermock Craddock gloomily. He sat with his long legs stretched out, in a way that did not fit the somewhat overdecorated drawing-room of faithful Florence.He felt very tired, troubled, and listless. Miss Marple disagreed in a mild, reassuring tone. "No, no, my dear boy, you have done well. Indeed, very well." "I got good grades, didn't I? I got their whole family poisoned. Alfred Crackenthorpe was dead; now Harold was dead too.What is going on there?I really don't understand. " "Spittle spiked," said Miss Marple thoughtfully.

"Yes, really, very clever! The pills were exactly the same as the ones he took. There was a printed note saying 'Dr. Kunpo's order'. But Kunpo didn't order it at all. Then The pharmacist didn't know either. It didn't come from there. The box of pills came from Rosezin Villa." "Did you really know that it came from Losaijin Villa?" "Yes. We have checked. In fact, the box is the tranquilizer box prescribed by the doctor for Emma." "Oh, it's for Emma..." "Yes, there are her fingerprints on it, as well as those of the two nurses, and the fingerprints of the pharmacist who dispensed the medicine. Of course, there are no other fingerprints. The person who sent the box of pills was very careful."

"Those tranquilizers were taken away and replaced with something else?" "Yes. That's the trouble with pills. Each one is exactly like the other." "You're quite right," agreed Miss Marple. "I remember very well when I was little. Black concoction, and brown concoction - that's the cough concoction - and white concoction , and Dr. So-and-so's pink concoction. People didn't get confused as often as people do now. You know, in my village on St. Mary's Ranch, we still like that drug. They always need the bottle powder, not pills. What are those pills?" she asked.

"Grass Bird's Head. It is usually stored in a poison bottle, and it is used for external use after diluting it by 1%." "So Harold died after taking those pills," said Miss Marple thoughtfully.Democracy Craddock made a sound like a hum. "You mustn't blame me for whining about you," he said, "'Talk it all to Aunt Jane'—that's how I feel." "You are very kind, very kind," said Miss Marple. "I am very grateful. As you are Sir Henry's godson, my attitude towards you is very different from that of ordinary inspectors."

Democracy Craddock grinned at her, but his smile was fleeting. "But, in fact, I'm still screwing it all up," he said. "The chief of police here comes to our criminal department and asks for help. What do they get? They get nothing but me." Number one idiot!" "No, no," said Miss Marple. "Yes, yes. I don't know who poisoned Alfred. I don't know who poisoned Harald. In the end, I don't know at all who the original murdered woman was. Originally, this Ma Ting's clue seems to be a very safe inference. The whole case seems to fit together. But what has changed now? The real Martin has appeared, and it turns out to be the wife of Baron Robert Stoard West. —It is very improbable. So, now, who is the female body found in the warehouse? God knows! At first I did everything I could, based on the idea that she might be Anna Strowenska, and then I found out that she It has nothing to do with this matter."

His words were interrupted by a particularly meaningful cough from Marple. "But is she really okay?" Craddock watched her intently. "Well, that postcard from Jamaica." "Yes," said Miss Marple, "but that's not really evidence, is it? I mean, anyone can send a postcard from anywhere. I remember Mrs. Brawry having a nervous breakdown, and the situation Very serious. Finally they said that she should go to a mental hospital for observation for a period of time. She was worried that her children would know about it, so she wrote about fourteen postcards and arranged to send them from different places in foreign countries It says 'Mom is on vacation abroad.'" She looked at Democracy Craddock, and then said, "You know what I mean?"

"Yes, of course," said Craddock, looking at her intently. "Of course we should have checked to see if the postcard that seemed to match that Martin's clue was real." "Very convenient," said Miss Marple in a low voice. "The postcard fits," Craddock said.We still have, after all, the letter Emma received signed by Martin Crackenthorpe.It was not from Baroness Stoddar West.However, someone always sends it.It must be someone who is preparing to impersonate Ma Ting.She might make a fortune by showing up as Martine.You cannot deny this. " "Yes Yes."

"Then it was found again that envelope from Emma, ​​which had her London address on it. It was found at Loserzin Lodge; which means that she had actually been there." "But the woman who was murdered didn't go there," Miss Marple pointed out. "It's not what you mean. She only came to Loserzin Lodge after her death. That was when someone was pushed from a train." down, on the railway embankment." "Ah - yes." "The envelope really proved that the murderer had been there, and he presumably took the envelope from her, along with other documents and odds and ends, and, perhaps by mistake, threw the envelope on the ground—or Was it—I wonder now, was it a mistake? Inspector Bacon, and your men, searched the place quite thoroughly, didn't they? But they didn't find it. It wasn't until later in the boiler."

"That's understandable," said Craddock. "That old gardener picks up anything that's blown about on the ground with a fork and throws it in the boiler." "That's where the two children can easily find it," said Miss Marple thoughtfully. "Do you think it was intentional for them to find out?" "Well, I'm just wondering. After all, it's fairly easy to know where the boys are going to look next, or even suggest where to look. . . . Yes, I do wonder. That'll keep you from thinking about Anna Strovinsky, won't it?"

Craddock said, "So, you've been thinking, could it really be her?" "I think some of you may have been alarmed when you started looking into things about her. That's all. I thought someone didn't want someone looking into it." "Now let's get on with the basic fact that someone was going to impersonate Martin," Craddock said. "And then, for some reason, she didn't. Why?" "That's an interesting question," said Miss Marple. "Someone sent a telegram saying that Martine was going back to France, and then arranged to travel with that woman and kill her on the way. Don't you think so by now?"

"Not quite," said Miss Marple. "Actually, I think you don't see the matter simply enough." "Easy?" cried Craddock. "You make things so inexplicable," he complained. Miss Marple said sadly that she would not do such a thing. "Well, tell me," said Craddock, "you think, you know, or don't know, who the murdered woman was?" Miss Marple sighed. "It's hard," she said, "I mean, it's hard to put it right, I don't know 'who' she is," but, at the same time, I'm pretty sure who she 'was'.Not sure if you get what I mean. " Craddock threw his arms up. "See what you mean? I don't understand at all." He looked out of the window. "Your Lucy Esborough has come to see you," he said. "Ah, I'm going. I'm very low self-esteem and low spirits this afternoon, seeing such radiant, shrewd, successful people like that." , I can't stand it."