Chapter 17 Chapter Sixteen

1 "Arthur, I'm back!" cried Mrs. Bantry, pushing open the study door, as if making a royal proclamation. Colonel Bantry immediately jumped up and kissed his wife, saying, "Well, well, great!" His words were impeccable, his manners impeccable, but Mrs. Bantry, who had been a loving wife for many years, could not be fooled. She said at once, "What's the matter?" "No, Dolly, of course not. What's going to happen?" "Oh, I don't know," said Mrs. Bantry vaguely. "It's a queer world, isn't it?" She dropped her coat and Colonel Bantry picked it up carefully and put it on the back of the sofa.

Everything is exactly the same as before - yet different.It seemed to Mrs Bantry that her husband had grown smaller. He looked thinner, more stooped, with bags under his eyes, and a way of avoiding her eyes. Still cheerfully he said, "Tell me, did you enjoy your time at Danemouth?" "Oh! it's fun. You should go too, Arthur." "I can't go, dear. There's a lot to do here." "Still, I think a change would do you good. Do you like the Jeffersons?" "Like, like, poor chap. He's a good guy. It's all so miserable." "What have you been doing since I left?"

"Oh, nothing. You know, I went to the farm. Agreed with Anderson for a new roof—the old one can't be mended." "How is the Radfordshire Council going?" "I—well—I didn't actually go." "Didn't go? But you are the chairman of the meeting?" "Well, actually, Dolly—something seems to have gone awry. They asked me if I'd mind being replaced by Mr. Thompson." "So it is," said Mrs Bantry. She took off a glove and deliberately threw it into the wastebasket.Her husband went to pick it up, but she stopped him.She snapped, "Don't move. I hate gloves."

Colonel Bantry gave her an anxious look. She asked gravely, "Did you have dinner with the Duffs on Thursday?" "Oh, that: delayed. Their cook is sick." "—help fools," said Mrs. Bantry.Then she asked: "Did you go to Naylor's yesterday?" "I called them and told them I couldn't go and hoped they would forgive me. They were very understanding." "They understand, don't they?" said Mrs. Bantry coldly. Sitting down at her desk, she absently picked up a pair of garden shears and snipped off the fingers of her second glove, one by one.

"What are you doing, Dolly?" "I'm in a bad mood," said Mrs. Bantry. She stood up. "Where shall we sit after supper, Arthur? The library?" "This - er - I don't like it - what do you think? It's nice here - or the living room." "I think," said Mrs. Bantry, "that we ought to go to the library!" She looked at him frankly.Colonel Bantry straightened up, a spark in his eye. He said, "You're right, my dear. Let's go to the library!" 2 Mrs. Bantry sighed in chagrin and put down the receiver.She had called twice, and each time the answer was the same: Miss Marple was not there.

Mrs. Bantry was naturally short-tempered, and would never give up.In a short period of time she called the parsonage, Mrs. Price Ridley, Miss Hartnell, Miss Wetherby, and finally she called the fishmonger. Due to its geographical advantage, He usually knew where everyone in the village was going. The fishmonger apologized and said he hadn't seen Miss Marple at all in the village this morning.She didn't follow her usual lines. "Where will this woman be?" cried Mrs. Bantry impatiently. There was a cough from behind.The cautious Lorimer whispered: "Ma'am, are you asking Miss Marple? I saw her walking towards your house."

Mrs. Bantry went straight for the front door, which she flung open, and called out to Miss Marple out of breath, "I've been looking for you everywhere. Where have you been?" She glanced back, and Lorimer had already Carefully walked away. "It's all too bad 2. People are starting to turn Arthur off. He looks years older. Jane, you must act. You must act:" Miss Marple said, "Dolly, you needn't rush." ​​Her The voice sounds very special. Colonel Bantry appeared at the study door. "Ah, good morning, Miss Marple. I'm glad you're here. My wife called you like a madman."

"I thought I'd better tell you the news myself," said Miss Marple, following Mrs Bantry into the study. "information?" "Basil Black has been arrested for the murder of Miss Ruby Keene." "Basil Blake?" cried the colonel. "But he didn't do it," said Miss Marple. Colonel Bantry paid no attention to the remark.He probably didn't even hear it. "You mean he strangled the girl before putting her in my library?" "He put her in your library," said Miss Marple, "but he didn't kill her." "Nonsense! If he put her in my library, he must have killed him! Those two things went together."

"Not necessarily. He found her dead in his own room." "Plausible," mocked the colonel. "What if you found a body? If you were an honest man, you would naturally call the police." "Ah," said Miss Marple, "but, Colonel Bantry, not everyone has your courage. You belong to the old school.The younger generation is different. " "No stamina," said the colonel, which was a commonplace of his. Miss Marple said: "Some people have rough experiences. I've heard a lot about Basil. He did air defense work, and he was only eighteen years old. He stormed into a burning house and threw four The children were rescued one by one.

Although others told him it was not safe, he went back to rescue a dog, but the house collapsed and he was trapped inside.He was rescued, but his chest was so severely compressed that he had to be put in a cast and was bedridden for nearly a year. Afterwards he was ill again for a long time.It was at this time that he became interested in design. " "Oh:" the colonel coughed and blew his nose. "I—er—never knew these things." "He doesn't talk about these things," said Miss Marple. "Well—yes. Noble character. There must be more young people like this than I thought. I used to think that he avoided the war. This shows that we should be cautious in drawing conclusions in the future."

Colonel Bantry looked ashamed. "But, even so," he was filled with righteous indignation—"why should he blame me for murder?" "I don't think that was his intention," said Miss Marple. "He took it more as a—a joke. See, he was very drunk." "Is he drunk?" said Colonel Bantry, with that English sympathy for alcoholics. "Oh, then, you can't judge a man by what he does when he's drunk. I remember when I was in Cambridge, I put one of the utensils in--well, well, no more. An unlucky curse." He laughed, then sternly checked himself.He looked at Miss Marple with sharp eyes.He said, "You don't think he's the murderer?" "I'm sure he's not." "Then you know who it is?" Miss Marple nodded. Mrs. Bantry was ecstatic, and like a Greek chorus player she was saying to an unheard world: "She's wonderful, isn't she?" "Who is the murderer?" Miss Marple said: "I was going to ask you for your help. I think we'll have a very satisfactory answer if we go to Somerset Abbey."