Chapter 16 Chapter Sixteen Miss Marple Seeking Assistance

Anyone who has noticed the kindly old lady standing in meditation on the front porch of the log house must think that she has nothing more to think about than plans for how to spend the day.Maybe go to the cliff castle to enjoy the scenery, go shopping in Jamestown, take a car to Pelican Point for lunch, or spend a leisurely morning on the beach. However, what this kind old lady was thinking about was something else entirely—her mood could be described as ready to go and eager to try. "Something must be done," said Miss Marple to herself. At the same time, she was convinced that time was running out.The critical moment is at hand.

But who can fully trust the facts she can present?She thought that if she had enough interviews, she could get to the bottom of the matter herself. She had discovered quite a bit.It's just that it's not enough - it's not enough. However, time is running out. She realized unwillingly that she didn't even have an old partner on this fairy island. She thought regretfully of her friends in America—Sir Henry Coleseling, who never tired of listening to her—his adopted son Demo, in spite of his increasing stature in the London agency. However, whenever Miss Marple had a good idea to publish, he was still convinced that she was by no means a random person.

But would the soft-spoken local police officer take an old lady's urgent matter seriously?Where's Dr. Graham?It's a pity that he is not the person she needs at this moment-he is too soft-hearted and too hesitant, and he is by no means a person who can act decisively and act quickly. Miss Marple felt like a lowly deputy under the banner of Almighty God, and almost cried out for help in the words of the Bible. Who will go for me? Who shall I send? Slowly, a voice came to her ears, but Miss Marple did not hear it like the echo of her inner prayer.All she could think of was the sound of a man calling his dog.

"Hi!" Miss Marple was thinking hard, so she didn't pay attention. "Hi!" said it louder, and Miss Marple looked around absently. "Hi—!" cried Mr. Ryfell impatiently.He added again: "You—over there—" Miss Marple did not know at first that Mr. Ryfell's "Hi, you!" was addressed to her.No one had ever summoned her in this way.It's also really rude.He is all self-righteous, and everyone has long accepted this fact.Miss Marple looked across the distance between her cabin and his, and saw Mr. Ryfell sitting on the verandah waving to her.

"Are you calling me?" she asked. "Of course I called you," said Mr. Rifle. "Who do you think I called—Cat? Come here." Miss Marple looked for her handbag, picked it up, and walked over. "I can't get to you without someone to help me," Mr. Rifle explained, "I have to trouble you to come here." "Oh, yes," said Miss Marple, "I understand." Mr. Raifel pointed to a chair nearby. "Sit down," he said, "I want to talk to you. Something strange seems to be happening on this island." "Isn't it," said Miss Marple, and seated herself in the chair pointed out to her.

She habitually took out the knitting yarn from the bag. "Don't knit that thing again," said Mr. Rifle. "I can't stand it. I hate women's knitting. It's so annoying." Miss Marple put the wool back into her handbag, not following orders but merely tolerating a petulant patient. "There's been a lot of gossip around here these days," said Mr. Rifle. "I dare say you're one of the hottest. You, with that clergyman and his sister." "Based on the present situation," said Miss Marple solemnly, "perhaps the idle work should be passed on."

"The native girl on this island was stabbed to death and her body was found in a tree. It may be a common thing. The boy who lived with her may have been jealous of another man-or he had another A new love, she's jealous, and they're blowing up. Tropical weathering. Things like that anyway." "No," said Miss Marple, shaking her head. “Officials here don’t think so either.” "They must have told you more than I have." Miss Marple reminded him. "Anyway, you know more than I do. You like gossip." "Of course," said Miss Marple. "Aside from listening to gossip, you're pretty bored, aren't you?"

"Often can refresh the eyes and ears, and it is also quite useful." "I tell you," said Mr. Rifle, looking at her intently, "I was wrong about you. I'm usually right about people. You're not simple. Those rumors about Major Balgrave , and the stories he used to tell; you think he was murdered, don't you?" "I'm afraid I can't be wrong," said Miss Marple. "Yes, he was murdered," said Mr. Raifel. Miss Marple drew a deep breath. "It's fixed, isn't it?" "Yes, quite sure. Devantry told me. I'm not being outspoken. The autopsy will be published anyway. You spoke to Dr. Graham and he went to Devantry, Devon. Chui reported to the administrative authorities here, and the Criminal Investigation Bureau also received the notice, and after their research, they found that the situation was suspicious, so they dug up the old man Baillgrave, and performed an autopsy on the body."

"What did they find?" asked Miss Marple. "They found a deadly toxin in him that only a doctor can pronounce correctly. I vaguely remember something like chlorine, hydrocarbonic acid, impure benzene, or something. It's not the correct scientific name, of course, but listen. It sounds like this kind of name. The police and doctors use this name on purpose. I guess they don’t want people to know it. Maybe it’s easy to pronounce with ordinary names, like Evipan, Hebito or Yiwei A name like sten syrup or something. The scientific name is used to bluff the uninitiated. Anyway, I heard that if the amount is enough, it can kill people, but the symptoms are not much different from high blood pressure caused by overdrinking.In fact, everyone didn't make a fuss at first, and no one asked about it.Now someone asked him if he had high blood pressure.Did he tell you he has this problem? "

"No." "That's right! But now everyone takes it for granted." "He's obviously talked about it." "It's the same thing as a ghost," said Mr. Rifle. "We don't run into people who actually see ghosts. It's usually some distant cousin or friend or friend of a friend. Let's not talk about that for now. Everyone." It was determined that he had high blood pressure because a bottle of blood pressure-lowering pills was found in his room-the real crux of the problem is here. I saw the woman who was stabbed ran to tell people that the bottle of pills was placed on him by someone else. in the house, and the bottle is owned by that guy named Greg."

"Mr. Dyson has high blood pressure. His wife mentioned it," said Miss Marple. "So the medicine was put in Belgrave's room in order to make his death seem natural by convincing him that he had high blood pressure." "Exactly," said Miss Marple, "and the story was spread very skillfully, that he used to tell people about his high blood pressure. But, you know, it's not hard to spread rumors. It's easy. There is so much to see in a lifetime.” "That goes without saying," said Mr. Raifel. "Just whisper a few words here and there." Miss Marple said: "Don't say you know it, just say that Mrs. So-and-so said Colonel--so-and-so told her. Anyway, second-hand, third-hand, or even You can turn it around four times, so it will be difficult to find out who first told it. It’s very easy. People who have heard what you said will pass it on to others as if they knew it first.” "One man is quite astute," said Mr. Rifle thoughtfully. "That's right," said Miss Marple. "I think it's a deliberate tact, too." "The way I see it, this woman saw or knew something and was trying to blackmail someone," said Mr. Raifel. "Perhaps she wasn't trying to blackmail," said Miss Marple. "In big restaurants like this, the waitresses often know things that people don't want to get out. Red envelopes and the like. This woman probably didn't know that what she knew was so important at first." "But she got a stab in the back after all," said Mr. Rifle mercilessly. "True. Someone must have gagged her." "Then let me hear what you think of the matter?" Miss Marple gave him a wary look. "Why do you think I know more than you, Mr. Rifle?" "Perhaps not much," said Mr. Ryfell; "but I'd like to know what you know." "why?" "In this place!" said Mr. Raifel, "in addition to making money, idleness is also idleness." Miss Marple couldn't believe it. "Make money? Here?" "If you're interested, you can send five or six coded telegrams a day," said Mr. Rifle. "That's how I pass the time." "Is it a bidding takeover?" Miss Marple asked vaguely as if she was speaking a foreign language. "That's about it," said Mr. Rifle, "that is, a game of wits. Unfortunately, it didn't take long, so I became interested in the matter. It aroused my curiosity. Balgrave used to talk to You gossip. I suppose it's because other people don't have the patience. What did he say to you?" "He told me a lot of stories," said Miss Marple. "I know that. Mostly a nuisance. It's enough to hear it once. If you're unlucky, if you run into him, you might hear him three or four times. " "I know," said Miss Marple, "I'm afraid it happens to all gentlemen when they get older." Mr. Ryfell gave her a hard look. , "I don't go around telling stories." He said, "Tell me. It started with an anecdote told by Belgrave?" "He said he knew a murderer." Miss Marple said, "Actually, it's nothing special." Her voice was very tactful: "Because I think everyone has experienced such things." "I don't quite understand you," said Mr. Rifle. "I don't mean any particular incident," said Miss Marple; "but you should always know, Mr. Rifle, that if you recall the events of your life, you will not meet someone Say, 'Oh, yes, I know that man well - he died suddenly, and people say his wife killed him, but I bet it's all bullshit.' You don't Haven't heard of it?" "Well, I suppose there are—there are things of that sort. But, usually—not very seriously." "Yes," said Miss Marple, "but Major Balgrave is a serious man. I think it is a great pleasure for him to tell stories. He said he had a little picture of the life of the murderer. He was going to show it to me, but - in fact - he didn't show it to me." "why?" "Because he suddenly saw something," Miss Marple said, "I suspect he must have seen someone. His face turned red all of a sudden, he hurriedly stuffed the photo into his wallet, and began to gossip about him again." .” "Who did he see?" "I've been working on it for a long time, too," said Miss Marple. "I'm sitting outside my cabin, and he's sitting almost directly opposite me—whoever he sees is over my right shoulder." have witnessed." "Somebody coming up the trail, right behind you, that's the trail to the creek and the parking lot—" "right." "Did anyone come down the path then?" "Yes. Mr. and Mrs. Dyson and Mr. and Mrs. Hillingdon." "Anyone else?" "Then I didn't see it. Of course, your wooden house is also within his sight..." "Hmm. So we can include Esther Walders and my little Jaxon. Right? I think they both could come and go in and out of the cabin without you seeing it." .” "Maybe," said Miss Marple, "I didn't look around for a moment." "The Dysons, the Hillingdons, Yishu, and Jaxon. Among these people, one is the murderer. Of course, there is also myself." He must have remembered these words after the fact. Miss Marple smiled slightly. "Did he say the murderer was a man?" "yes." "Okay. So Evelyn Shillingdon, Lucky, and Esther Walders have to be subtracted; then, let's take this cryptic thing for real, your murderer must be Dyson , Hillingdon, or my sweet-talking Jaxon." "Or yourself," said Miss Marple. "Don't mess with me," he said. "Let me first tell you the strangest thing in my mind, and it seems that you have not thought of it. If one of the three is, then the old man Belgrave used to Why didn't you recognize it? What a joke, they've been sitting together all day, staring at each other for at least two weeks. It makes sense." "I think it makes sense, too," said Miss Marple. "Okay, then tell me." "Look, Major Balgrave told me he never saw the man himself. It was told to him by a doctor. The doctor gave him the photograph as a curio. Maybe he looked at the photo carefully, and put it in his wallet as a souvenir after reading it. Occasionally, when he told the story to others, he also showed the photo to others. Another point, Laifel Sir, we don't know when he said it. He didn't tell me when he told me. Therefore, he may have told this story for many years. Five years—ten years, Possibly even longer. Some of his tiger stories were probably twenty years ago." "More than that!" said Mr. Rifle. "So I don't think Major Balgrave would have recognized the man in the picture had he happened to come across that man. I think it might be, I should say it must be, when he told me, while Find that photo in your wallet, take it out, look down, look at the face carefully, raise your head, and suddenly see the same face, or someone very similar to that face from ten or ten Walked up to meet him at two yards." "Well, yes," said Mr. Rifle, "yes, probably." "He's taken aback at once," said Miss Marple, "put the picture back in his pocketbook, and start talking loudly about other things." "He couldn't have been right then," said Mr. Rifle tactfully. "Yes," said Miss Marple, "he may not know for sure. But then he will take a good look at the photograph, and at the man again, to be sure that they are just two very close friends." Are they similar, or are they basically the same person?" After meditating for a moment, Mr. Laifel shook his head. "One thing, it doesn't make sense. Insufficient motivation. Not at all. He talks to people very loudly, doesn't he?" "Yes," said Miss Marple, "very big. He's always been like that," "Exactly. He always growls at the top of his throat. So whoever comes along must have heard him." ?” "I think it's always within earshot." Mr. Ryfell shook his head again.He said: "It's too mysterious, it's really mysterious and mysterious! Anyone who listens to what he said will laugh out loud. An old fool tells people a story that others told him, and shows them the photos, saying What happened was a murder that happened years ago! Or at least a year or two ago. How could this worry the person in question? No evidence at all, just bits of hearsay, old stories that were passed around. The person can even admit that there is a resemblance, he can say: 'Really, I do look like that guy, don't I! Ha ha! 'No one will take old man Belgrave's accusation seriously.I tell you, I wouldn't believe it myself.If that guy is really him, there is nothing to be afraid of.This kind of identification is the easiest to laugh off.What was he doing to kill Balgrave?It's not necessary at all.You must have thought of that, too." "Oh, of course I have thought of that," said Miss Marple; "I quite agree with you, and it disturbs me all the more.To be honest, I couldn't sleep at all last night. " Mr. Ryfell had his eyes fixed on her. "What's on your mind?" he said calmly. "Of course, I may not be right," said Miss Marple with some hesitation. "Probably," said Mr. Rifle, still in a domineering tone, "anyway, tell me what was going on in your mind in the middle of the night." "There may be strong motives behind it, if—" "what if?" "If, again—someone will be killed soon," Mr. Laifel stared at her, trying to sit upright. "You'd better make it clear." "I'm the least able to explain," Miss Marple said faster and faster, and she couldn't keep up with it, and a blush appeared on her forehead. "Suppose someone really plotted a murder. You will remember that Major Balgrave told me of a man whose wife died for no apparent reason, and then, after a while, in exactly the same circumstances. Now, another man was murdered. Another man's wife was killed in the same way, and the doctor who told him the story recognized the same man though with a different name. You see, could it be that the murderer was that A murderer who has become a habit of killing?" "You mean, the Smith, Bathtub Corpse case. That's it." "As far as I can tell," said Miss Marple, "and from what I've heard, a man will be flattered if it's the first time he's done such a wicked thing and can get away with it. He'll think it easy, Thought he was shrewd. So he did it again. Then, as you said, it became a habit, like Smith and his bride in the bathtub. Every time the location was different, the name was different. But the crime was Pretty much the same. So I think—of course, maybe I'm not quite right—" "But it doesn't feel right to you, does it?" asked Mr. Rifle, with some tact. Miss Marple made no answer, but said of her own, "--if so, and this man--this man is planning a murder here again, say, to get rid of another wife, which he has already committed The third and fourth murders, then what Major Balgrave says matters a lot; for the murderer can't be shown any resemblance. That's what Smith was, if you remember Got caught. The plot of his crime aroused a person's curiosity, compared with another murder case's newspaper clippings, and solved the case. So, you must know what I mean, don't you? If the villain has already settled He has planned a crime, and will soon do so, and he cannot allow Balgrave to go around talking about it, and showing photographs." She stopped, and looked earnestly at Mr. Raifel. "So you see, this person has to act immediately, the sooner the better." Mr. Ryfell said: "That is to say that night, eh?" "Exactly," said Miss Marple. "Quite quick," said Mr. Rifle, "but it did come in time. Put the pills in old man Bailgrave's ovary. Spread rumors that he has high blood pressure, and sip some of that no-nonsense farmer's cider on his drink." People call it the famous poison. right? " "Yes. But that's all in the past--it won't help to worry about it any longer. It's the next step. At this moment, Major Balgrave has been removed, and the picture is gone. This man can proceed as planned. His murder." Mr. Rifle whistled once. "You've figured it all out, haven't you?" Miss Marple nodded her head, and said in a tone that was seldom resolute and almost dogmatic: "And we must stop him, you must stop him, Mr. Ryfell." "Me?" asked Mr. Rifle, startled, "why me?" "You're famous because you're rich," said Miss Marple, straight to the point. "People will listen to you and your ideas. They'll never listen to me. They'll say I'm a crazy old lady." "They'd probably say that," said Mr. Rifle, "and that would be stupider. But, really, from what you usually say, there's probably no one who would think you had a brain in your head. Actually, You have a very organized mind. Ordinary women usually don't." He moved uncomfortably in the wheelchair. "Where did Yishu and Jaxon go?" He said, "I have to move. No, you can't do it. You are not strong enough.I really don't know what their intentions are to leave me here alone. " "I'm going to find them." "No, don't go. You stay here--get things straightened out, which one is it? The flamboyant Greg? The silent Shillingen or my boy Jaxon? It's never going to come out of the three , isn't it?"