Chapter 5 Chapter Five Miss Marple Makes a Decision

Major Balgrave's funeral took place the next day.Miss Marple was accompanied by Miss Prescott.Gannon presided over the memorial service, after which everything returned to normal. The death of Major Balgrave was but a regret which was soon forgotten.People living here are limited to sunshine, sea and social fun.A ghost disturbed these activities, leaving a brief shadow, which disappeared in a moment.What's more, no one knew much about the deceased.He's actually a blah, blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah type in clubs, and he's always going to tell some personal anecdote that doesn't particularly interest him.He could find no permanent shelter anywhere in the world.His wife died many years ago.He lived alone and died a miserable death.However, his loneliness was spent in the crowd, and this way of passing the day was not sad. Even though Major Balgrave was a lonely person, he seemed to be quite optimistic.He had a way of enjoying himself, and now he was dead and buried and no one cared; in another week they probably wouldn't even remember him or even think about him.

The only person who might possibly miss him was Miss Marple.Not on the basis of personal intimacy, but that he represented a life she knew well.She was thinking in her mind: as people get older, it becomes easier and easier to get used to listening to people. Although they may not be very interested in listening, there is a kind of two old people giving one to the other between her and the major. Thank you for your kind understanding.She didn't really mourn for Major Balgrave, she just missed him. On the afternoon after the funeral, as she sat knitting in her favorite corner, Dr. Graham came.She put down her wool and greeted him.Immediately he said apologetically, "I'm sorry, but I must have disappointed you with the news I brought, Miss Marple."

"Really? It's my—" "Yes, we haven't found that precious photo of you. I think you must be disappointed." "Yes, yes, I have a little. But, of course, it's not a big deal; it's just an emotion. I see it now. Not in Major Balgrave's pocketbook?" "No. Not among his other things. There are some letters, news clippings, a few miscellaneous things, and a few photographs, but not the one you mentioned." "Oh, yes," said Miss Marple, "well, that can't be helped. . . Thank you, Dr. Graham, for your trouble." "Oh, nothing really, but I know from experience how important some little things in the family are to a man, especially when he's old."

He felt that this old lady could really take it so calmly.Maybe, he thought, Major Balgrave saw the picture again when he was picking something up in his wallet, couldn't remember how it got into his wallet, and tore it up as something unimportant.However, to this old lady, it was very important.However, she seemed very relaxed and seemed quite open-minded. However, Miss Marple's heart was neither relaxed nor open at all.She needed a little time to think things through, but she decided to make the most of the opportunity in front of her. She made no secret of her eagerness to chat with Dr. Graham.The good gentleman, too, took her eloquence as a natural expression of the loneliness of old ladies, and in order to try to distract her from the loss of the photograph, he also talked to her lightly and cheerfully about St. Annori's. life, and places where Miss Marple might be interested to visit.Talking and talking, he didn't know how, and the topic turned back to Major Balgrave's death.

"It's always sad," said Miss Marple, "to think of a man dying in a foreign country. From what he told me, he doesn't seem to have any close relatives. He seems to live alone in London." "I believe he travels all the time," said Mr. Graham. "At least in winter. He doesn't like our English winters. It's not really his fault." "That's natural," said Miss Marple. "Maybe he has special reasons, such as poor lungs, and must spend the winter overseas?" "Uh, no, I didn't think so." "I believe he has high blood pressure. It's a terrible time these days. It's talked about everywhere."

"He told you, didn't he?" "Oh, no. No, he didn't say it himself. Someone else told me." "Oh? Really." "I think," went on Miss Marple, "that death is always possible under the circumstances." "That's not necessarily the case," Dr. Graham said. "There are already ways to control blood pressure." "His death seemed sudden, but I don't think you thought it was any surprise." "Well, considering his age, although I don't think it's a special accident, I really didn't expect it to happen so soon. Frankly speaking, I always thought he was very healthy. Of course, he never asked me for medical treatment. I never Didn't take his blood pressure or anything."

"Can one know--I mean, can a doctor tell from a man's appearance whether he has high blood pressure?" asked Miss Marple, innocently. "You can't see it just by looking at it," the doctor said with a smile. "It has to be checked." "Oh, that's right. It's one of those horrible things that have a rubber band wrapped around a man's arm to inflate it--I hate that stuff. Luckily my doctor says it's my age. , my blood pressure is fine." "That's really good news," said Dr. Graham. "Of course, the major likes the farmer's cider." Miss Marple said intentionally.

"Yes. Alcohol—it's really not a good thing for blood pressure." "I heard you can take pills, isn't that right?" "Yes. There's a lot for sale. He's got a bottle in his room—the Tranquilizer." "Science is amazing today," said Miss Marple. "Doctors can do anything, can't they?" "We all have a superior adversary," said Dr. Graham. "You know, the forces of nature. Often some good heirlooms still come in handy." "Like cobwebs?" said Miss Marple. "I used to do that when I was little."

"Smart," said Dr. Graham. "When I have a bad cough, I smash the linseed and paste it on my chest, and rub it with camphor oil." "Why do you know all about it!" said Dr. Graham, laughing.He stood up. "How's the knee? Does it still hurt?" "It doesn't hurt anymore. Seems much better." "Then we dare not say whether it is the power of nature or the effect of my pills." Dr. Graham said, "I'm sorry, but I can't help you." "But I should have thanked you very much, and I'm sorry to have taken your time. Do you mean that the Major doesn't have a single photograph in his wallet?"

"Oh, there is—there's a very old picture of himself playing polo when he was young, and there's a dead tiger with his feet on it. It's all kind of life pictures— Commemorating his youth. But I looked for it very carefully, and I can assure you that there is no one about your nephew that you mentioned." "I'm sure you've looked for it--I don't mean that--I just can't forget it. We all like to keep weird things." "Treasures from the past," said the doctor with a smile. He said goodbye and left. Miss Marple was still looking at the palm trees and the sea in front of her with ups and downs of thought.For several minutes she did not pick up the wool which lay between her knees.She now had a fact in hand.She had to think hard about the implications of that fact.The photograph that the colonel had taken out of his wallet and put back in a panic, was not in his wallet after his death.Major Balgrave wouldn't throw away that sort of thing.He put it back in his wallet, and it should still be in his wallet after he died.Money, some people will steal it, but a photo of life?Unless, someone has a special reason to steal...

Miss Marple's face suddenly darkened.She had to make a decision.Would she let Major Balgrave rest peacefully in his grave?Isn't that better?She held her breath and quoted: "Duncan is dead. He is fast asleep after a frenzy of life!" Major Balgrave felt no harm now.He has gone out of danger.Was it just a coincidence that he died that night?Or maybe it wasn't a coincidence?It is easy for doctors to accept the fact that the elderly die.In particular, he kept a bottle of pills in his room that people with high blood pressure take every day.But if someone had stolen that picture from the major's wallet, that person might have kept that bottle of pills in his room as well.She herself never recalled seeing the major take his pills; nor had he ever mentioned his high blood pressure to her.The only thing he has said about his health is that he admits: "The years are not forgiving." He occasionally has shortness of breath, which is only a mild asthma, and nothing else.But someone said he had high blood pressure—Molly?Miss Prescott?She can't remember. Miss Marple sighed.Although I didn't say it out of my mouth, I used such words in my heart to warn myself loudly. "Okay, Jane, what are you suspecting or thinking in your heart? Maybe, this is all your fantasy? Do you really have any concrete facts to think that way?" She tried her best, step by step, to recall all the murders and murderers she had talked about with the major. "Oh, my God," thought Miss Marple, "even if—really, I don't think I can help it." But she knew in her heart that she was going to try.