"Take Kenya for example," said Major Balgrave. "Lots of guys talkin' on and never went to a single one! I spent fourteen years there. And the happiest time of my life." -" Old Miss Marple nodded. This is one of her polite and gentle attitudes.While Balgrave was asking him about the less touching events of his life, Miss Marple quietly searched for her own train of thought.She was already familiar with this commonplace thing.At most, the location of the story is different.In the past, it was almost all Indian affairs. People like majors, colonels, and lieutenant generals, plus a lot of related and familiar words:

Summer resort Shimla, bearers, tigers, lunch, Kedmarjas city and so on.Major Balgrave's vocabulary was similar in nature: hunting, the Kikuyo tribe of Kenya, elephants, Swahili... but in form it was absolutely the same. An old man needs someone to listen to, so that he can relive the old joyful dreams of the past in his memory.During those dreamlike days, his back was still straight, his eyesight was sharp, and his hearing was sound.Some of these people who like to talk about ancient times were once heroic warriors on the battlefield, and some were deplorably ugly: with a purple face and a glass eye embedded in it, Major Balgrave, who looked like a stuffed frog, should belong to the latter category.

Miss Marple treated all of them with equal tenderness.She sat intently, nodding graciously in agreement now and then, while her own thoughts haunted her, enjoying the beauty of the deep blue of the Caribbean Sea before her. It was very kind of dear Raymond, she thought gratefully, he was such a good and sincere boy ... I couldn't understand why he should bother about his old aunt so much. Maybe it's because of conscience, it's because of family affection?Maybe he really likes her. ... She thought, all things considered, that he really liked her, had always liked her, even to the point of being unbearable and offensive!I was always afraid that she would not be able to keep up with the times.Send her a book to read.Modern novels are a pain in the ass--always about annoying people doing weird things that they don't necessarily like themselves. The word "sex" was not something that people often talked about when Miss Marple was young, but they definitely didn't lack it, they just didn't talk about it very often; when it came to enjoying it, at least she felt that, It's even worse than it is today.Even if it is often accused of evil, she is convinced that it is much stronger than being regarded as an obligation today.

Her gaze moved to the open book on her lap, page 23, and she could only see this page in her appetite. "Are you saying you don't even have any sexual experience?" The young man asked incredulously, "Nineteen years old? How is that possible. This is very important." Dried noodles covered the whole face. "I know," she murmured, "I know." He glanced at her, dirty tight old trousers, bare feet, toenails full of black mud, smelling of sour and fat... He really didn't understand why he liked this girl so much. Miss Marple didn't understand either!absurd!Treating sexual experience as a tonic, forcing people to drink it down!Poor young people nowadays...

"Dear Aunt Jane, why do you keep burying your head in the sand like a happy ostrich? You never leave your leisurely pastoral life. The real life is what matters." Raymond used to say that, and his Aunt Jane would say, "Yes," with a smirk on her face, and she too felt a little too old-fashioned. In fact, country life is not at all leisurely.People like Raymond are too ignorant.In a mass of business in the country fields, Jane Marple acquired a wide knowledge of country life.She has no intention of talking, let alone writing, but she does understand.Sexual things abound, whether natural or anti-natural.Rape, incest, perversions (some of which, to be honest, even this savvy young Oxford graduate who writes for a living has never heard of).

Miss Marple took her thoughts back to the Caribbean Sea, and resumed the topic of Major Baigrave... "It was a remarkable experience," she flattered. "It was a lot of fun." "I have more. Of course, some are not suitable for ladies to hear." The experienced Miss Marple lowered her eyelids with a flattered expression. Major Balgrave continued to criticize the customs of some tribal peoples that he had deleted. Miss Marple thought of her dear nephew again. Raymond West was an accomplished novelist with a considerable income.He was earnestly and courteously trying to make the last days of his aunt happy, when she had a bout of pneumonia the previous winter, and the doctor advised her to get more sun.Raymond imperatively suggested that she go to the West Indies.Miss Marple declined--the expense, the distance, the troubles of travel, and besides, she couldn't let go of St. Mary Mead's home.However, Raymond has arranged everything for him.He had a traveling friend who wanted a quiet place to live in the country. "He'll take good care of your house. He's a housekeeper. He's a rabbit. I mean—"

He paused, a little embarrassed—in fact, dear Aunt Jane didn't know what kind of person "Rabbit" was. The next step is the question of travel.In this day and age, travel is nothing.He can go by plane.Another friend, Diana Holrocks, was going thousands of miles and could accompany Aunt Jane all the way, and she could go to the Palme d'Or Hotel, which was run by the Sandersons, on the Isle of St. Annori.The best couple in the world.They will take good care of her.He will write to them immediately. As a result, the Sandersons returned to England.Fortunately, the Kendalls who replaced them were also very kind and kind. They told Raymond not to worry about his aunt.There is a very good doctor on the island, he will take care of any ailments, and the couple themselves will greet the elderly at any time.

The couple kept their word.Molly Kendall was a bright, capable blonde in her late teens who was always beaming.She warmly welcomes and makes her feel right at home.Her husband, Tim Kendall, in his thirties, was tall and dark, and was very polite to her. In this way, Miss Marple thought silently, she stayed away from the harsh climate of England and lived in her own log cabin on this island, served by a smiling maid from the West Indies, Tim Kendall Entertain her in the dining room, always tell her a few jokes when recommending her daily menu.There is also a path leading to the beach in front of the cabin, and she can find a canvas chair to sit down and watch tourists play in the water and sunbathe.

In addition, she also had several elderly playmates, like old Mr. Ryfer, Dr. Graham, Gannon Prescott and his sister, and now the old gentleman Belgrave Major. What more could an old woman ask for? It was indeed very regrettable, and Miss Marple herself felt very sorry, but her heart was not as smooth as expected. Yes, it is very warm and pleasant, and it is extremely effective for her rheumatism. The scenery is pleasant, but it is a bit monotonous!There are palm trees everywhere.Everything is the same every day - nothing new ever happens. It's not like the countryside in St. Mead, where something new happens every day.Her nephew would once compare St. Mead's life to dross floating on a pond, and she retorted angrily that he could discover a lot of life if he put it on a lens and observed it under a microscope.Yes, things do happen a lot at St. Meads.

Incident after incident rose in Miss Marple's mind: the mistake in old Mrs. Lynnard's cough syrup--the act so much blamed by young Polligate--the time when George Wood's mother Came to see him (was it really his mother—?) Joe Arden had endless fun speculating about his quarrel with his wife.If only there were incidents here as well - er - that would give her a quick bite! Suddenly.She realized that Major Balgrave had abandoned Kenya and turned the conversation to the Northwest Front.He was talking about his experience as a second lieutenant.Really bad. He actually asked her seriously: "Do you think so?"

After years of practice, Miss Marple is more than capable of dealing with such problems. "I don't have enough experience. I don't think I can judge this kind of thing. My life is really quite ignorant." "That's true, my dear madam, it makes sense," said Major Balgrave in a heroic voice. "Your life is so colorful," echoed Miss Marple, determined to change the absent-minded attitude she had so enjoyed just now. "It's not bad," Major Balgrave said confidently, "it's not bad." He looked around and praised, "This place is not bad." "That's true," Miss Marple replied, but she couldn't restrain herself from saying, "But I just don't know if there will be some lively things going on here?" "Oh, of course, there are a lot of sensational things, do you want to ask me? I can tell you a lot." What Miss Marple wants to know is not a sensational scandal.Today's scandals have no energy.It's just that the sex swap attracts attention, but it doesn't know how to cover it up or at least keep some shame. "There was a murder here a year or two ago, by a man named Harry Weston. It was a big story in the papers. I'm sure you remember." Miss Marple nodded dully.That wasn't what she called a murder at all.It was such a sensation in the press mainly because the people involved in the case were very rich.It seemed that Harry Weston had shot and killed his wife's lover, Frarell Perez, and his elaborate alibi seemed to have been paid for.The people at the scene heard that they were all drunk, including some drug users. Although they were all elegant and showy, Miss Marple knew in her heart that they were not interesting people.At least not to her own taste. "Let me tell you, that's not the only murder case that happened during that time." He nodded and winked his eyes. "I'm suspecting—uh—!" The ball of yarn on Miss Marple's lap rolled to the ground, and the major bent over to pick it up for her. "Speaking of murders," he went on, "I once had a very curious case, which certainly had nothing to do with me." Miss Marple smiled and encouraged him to go on. "One day, we were chatting at the club, and a guy came along and set up a goal. He is a doctor.It's about him saving lives.A young man came to wake him up in the middle of the night, saying that his wife had hanged herself.They didn't have a phone, so after he cut the cord and put her in place, he drove to the doctor.She was nearly out of breath, but then came back to life.The young man seemed to love her very much and cried like a baby.He said he noticed that she was acting strangely, and that she was depressed for a while.In short, the matter passed, and all was well.But then, about a month later, his wife overdosed on sleeping pills and couldn't sleep.It's bleak. " Major Balgrave stopped and nodded several times.Obviously the story was not over yet, and Miss Marple had to wait. "You might say, is that all it is? This is nothing. Nervous woman, what a fuss. But a year later, the doctor was chatting with a colleague who told him that a woman was going to dive Suicide, her husband pulled her up, took her to the doctor, and saved her. But a few weeks later, she inhaled gas again and committed suicide.” "Well, kind of a coincidence—eh? Same kind of story. The doctor I knew said, 'It happened to me too. It's Jones (whatever his name is) I guess— —What's your guy's last name?''Can't remember. I think it's Robinson.Not Jones anyway. '""The two looked at each other, and both said that the matter was really strange.Later my doctor took out a small photo and showed it to another doctor. 'That's the guy,' he said: 'The next day I went to check on the patients and saw a beautiful hibiscus in front of their house, a variety I had never seen at home or abroad.I had a camera in the car, so I took it and took a picture.While I was pressing the shutter, the husband came out and ended up capturing him too.I don't think he noticed.I asked him the name of the hibiscus flower, but he couldn't tell. ’ The other doctor looked at the photo and said: ‘It’s a bit off, but I bet it’s the same person. '""I don't know if they have explored it.In fact, there is, and there may not be any results.Presumably Jones or Mr. Robinson would have covered it up well. Anyway, the story is really strange, isn't it?Never imagined that such a thing would happen. " "Yes, I think so," said Miss Marple calmly, "it happens every day." "Oh, okay, okay, it's too mysterious for you to say that." "A man can't be reined in as long as he's got his way. He'll do it again and again." "Like a drowned bride in a bath—eh?" "Yes, that's the kind of thing." "For curiosity, I asked for the photo of the doctor." Major Balgrave took out his overstuffed wallet, rummaged through it, and muttered: "There are too many things in the wallet—I don't know why I keep these things..." Miss Marple knew something about him.Those were the major's props, used to act out the anecdotes he told.She suspected that the story he just told was not like that in the first place, and after he repeated it over and over again, it ended up like this today after adding fuel and oil. The major flipped through the pages, still muttering: "I actually forgot about that. She's pretty good-looking, but you'd never think of her--oh.Why can't I find it—— This reminds me... look at this pair of ivory.You must see—" He stopped, found a small photo, and looked down. "Want to see a picture of a murderer?" He was about to give her the picture when suddenly his demeanor froze, with the expression of a stuffed frog, and Major Balgrave seemed to have his eyes fixed on the back of her right shoulder. ——A burst of footsteps and voices approached from that direction. "Oh, what the hell—I'm sorry—I mean—" He stuffed the stuff hastily into his wallet and back into his pocket. His face was even more purple.He raised his throat and said with airs: "I mean--I'd love to show you that pair of ivory--the biggest elephant I've ever hunted--hey guys!" he greeted in an overly affable tone. "Look, who's coming! The greatest foursome ever - Flora and Fana. How's your luck today - eh?" Following the sound of footsteps, four hotel guests that Miss Marple had already seen appeared.Although she didn't know the surnames of the two couples, she knew that the tall man with the sky-high gray hair was called "Greg".His wife, the blond woman, everyone called her lucky; the other couple, the man was dark and thin, and the woman had a weathered face but was pleasing to the eye, Edward and Evelyn. As far as she knows, they all love plants and are also very interested in birds. "Bad luck," Greg said. "We didn't find what we were looking for anyway." "Do you know Miss Marple? This is Colonel and Mrs. Hillingdon, Mr. and Mrs. Greg and Lucky Dyson." The four greeted her very politely, and Lucky shouted loudly that if she didn't drink a glass of wine immediately, she would die of thirst. Greg called to Tim Kendall, who was sitting nearby to check out with his wife. "Hey, Tim, get us some drinks." He asked the crowd again: "Farmer's cider?" Everyone agrees. "Would you like a drink too, Miss Marple?" Miss Marple declined, saying she'd prefer fresh lemonade. "Okay, fresh lemonade," said Tim Kendall. "Five cups of farmer's cider." "Would you like to have a drink with us, too, Tim?" "Would love to, but I've got to settle these accounts. Can't leave it all to Molly. Oh, by the way, there's Oil Drum Rash tonight." .” "Excellent," exclaimed Lucky. "Damn it!" she said, shrinking her head. "I've got thorns all over my body. Oh! Edward pushed me into a bush of thorns on purpose!" "What a beautiful pink bush," said Shillingen. "What a lovely thorn. You hard-hearted bull, aren't you, Edward?" "It can't be like me," Greg said with a grin. "My body is full of human compassion." Evelyn Hillingdon sat down beside Miss Marple, and chatted pleasantly with her. Miss Marple put the yarn she was knitting on her lap.Because of the rheumatism in her head, she turned her head slowly with some difficulty and looked over her right shoulder.Not far away, there is a large wooden house, in which the rich Mr. Raifel lives. But there seemed to be no one inside. She accepted Evelyn's conversation comfortably (really, everyone was so kind to her!), but her eyes were deeply on the faces of the two men. Edward Hillingdon looked like a nice guy.Quiet but sweet, Greg—tall, loud, and beaming.She thought he and Lucky should be Canadian or American. She glanced at Major Balgrave, who was still trying to put on a good-natured smile. really interesting……