Chapter 18 Chapter Seventeen

1 Sir Henry's expression was serious. "I don't like the idea," he said. Miss Marple said: "I know it's not what you call orthodox practice. But it is very important to know this point, Shakespeare once said 'certainly'. I think that if Mr. Jefferson agrees—" "Where's Harper? Is he involved?" "It's probably not good for him to know too much. But you might be able to give him a hint. Spy on some people, follow them." Sir Henry said slowly: "Well, that's the case..." 2 Superintendent Harper looked sharply at Sir Henry Clithering.

"Let's get this straight, sir. Are you implying me?" Sir Henry said: "What I am going to tell you is what my friend has just told me--he is not quite sure--that he is going to-morrow to call on a solicitor at Danemouth in order to make a new will." The superintendent's bushy eyebrows were furrowed and his eyes were steady. He said, "Is Mr. Conway Jefferson going to tell his son-in-law and daughter-in-law about this?" "He's going to tell them both tonight." "I see." The superintendent tapped the pen on the table. He repeated: "I see..."

Then he looked hard at him again and said: "So you're not satisfied with Basil Black's involvement in this case?" "Are you satisfied?" The superintendent's mustache trembled slightly, and he asked, "Is Miss Marple satisfied?" The two looked at each other. "Leave it to me," Harper said. "I'll send someone. I assure you this is no joke." Sir Henry said: "One more thing. You'd better look at this." He opened a piece of paper and pushed it across the table. This time, the superintendent's composure was gone.He whistled. "Is that so? It makes all the difference. How did you find out?"

Sir Henry said: "Women are always interested in marriage." "Especially older single women," said the Superintendent. 3 Conway Jefferson looked up as his friend entered. His heavy expression turned into a smile. He said, "Well, I told them. They're doing fine." "What did you say?" "I said to them that now that Ruby is dead, I feel that the original £50,000 left to her should be used in her memory. I'm going to donate it to a London organization for young professional female dancers. Youth hostels. Stupid way to keep money - it surprises me that they didn't object. Like they knew I would do it!" He mused, "You know, I fooled myself on that girl and became Became a stupid old man. Now I get it.

She's a pretty girl - but most of what I think of her is my own stuff.I'm assuming she's Rosamund.You know, the same physical appearance, but a different heart or mind.Pass me that newspaper--it has a very interesting bridge problem on it. " 4 Sir Henry went downstairs.He asked the porter a question. "Are you asking Mr. Gaskell? He just drove off. To London." "Oh: yes. Is Mrs. Jefferson there?" "Mrs. Jefferson has just gone to bed, sir." Sir Henry looked down the hall and then down the ballroom.In the hall, Hugo McLeth was completing a crossword puzzle, which seemed difficult.In the ballroom, Josie was dancing with a chunky, sweaty man, and she bravely looked into his face and smiled, while deftly avoiding his destructive stampede.The fat man was obviously having a good time dancing.Elegant and weary, Raymond was dancing with an anemic-looking girl with lackluster brown hair and an expensive but very ill-fitting dress.

"Well, go to bed," Sir Henry murmured, and went upstairs. 5 at three o'clock.The wind died down, and the moonlight shone on the calm sea. Conway Jefferson was half asleep on the pillow, and the only sound in the room was his own heavy breathing. Not a breath of wind disturbed the curtains, but they moved... and were separated in an instant.A silhouette of a man appeared in the moonlight, and then they closed again. Everything returned to calm again, but there was one more person in the room. The intruder quietly approached the bed step by step.The sound of deep breathing from the pillow didn't stop.

There is no sound, or barely any sound.One finger and thumb are in place on the skin, and the hypodermic syringe in the other hand is at the ready. Suddenly, in the darkness, one hand grasped the hand holding the syringe, and the other grasped the infiltrator like an iron fist. An emotionless voice, the voice of the law, said, "Stop it, don't do it. Give me the syringe!" The lights came on, and Conway Jefferson lay on his pillow, watching coldly the murderer of Ruby Keene. murderer.