Twenty-five
“I looked up tontine in the dictionary,” said Lucy.
The first greetings were over and now Lucy was wandering rather aim-
lessly round the room,
touching1 a china dog here, an antimacassar there,
the plastic work-box in the window.
“I thought you probably would,” said Miss Marple equably.
Lucy
spoke2 slowly, quoting the words. “Lorenzo Tonti, Italian banker,
originator, 1653, of a form of
annuity3 in which the shares of subscribers
who die are added to the profit shares of the
survivors5.” She paused.
“That’s it, isn’t it? That fits well enough, and you were thinking of it even
then before the last two deaths.”
She took up once more her restless, almost aimless prowl round the
room. Miss Marple sat watching her. This was a very different Lucy Eye-
lesbarrow from the one she knew.
“I suppose it was asking for it really,” said Lucy. “A will of that kind,
ending so that if there was only one
survivor4 left he’d get the lot. And yet
—there was quite a lot of money, wasn’t there? You’d think it would be
enough shared out…” She paused, the words trailing off.
“The trouble is,” said Miss Marple, “that people are greedy. Some people.
That’s so often, you know, how things start. You don’t start with murder,
with wanting to do murder, or even thinking of it. You just start by being
greedy, by wanting more than you’re going to have.” She laid her knitting
down on her knee and stared ahead of her into space. “That’s how I came
across
Inspector6 Craddock first, you know. A case in the country. Near
Medenham Spa. That began the same way, just a weak
amiable7 character
who wanted a great deal of money. Money that that person wasn’t entitled
to, but there seemed an easy way to get it. Not murder then. Just some-
thing so easy and simple that it hadn’t seemed wrong. That’s how things
begin… But it ended with three murders.”
“Just like this,” said Lucy. “We’ve had three murders now. The woman
who impersonated Martine and who would have been able to claim a
share for her son, and then Alfred, and then Harold. And now it only
leaves two, doesn’t it?”
“You mean,” said Miss Marple, “there are only Cedric and Emma left?”
“Not Emma. Emma isn’t a tall dark man. No. I mean Cedric and Bryan
Eastley. I never thought of Bryan because he’s fair. He’s got a fair mous-
tache and blue eyes, but you see—the other day…” She paused.
“Yes, go on,” said Miss Marple. “Tell me. Something has upset you very
badly, hasn’t it?”
“It was when Lady Stoddart-West was going away. She had said good-
bye and then suddenly turned to me just as she was getting into the car
and asked: ‘Who was that tall dark man who was
standing8 on the terrace
as I came in?’
“I couldn’t imagine who she meant at first, because Cedric was still laid
up. So I said, rather puzzled, ‘You don’t mean Bryan Eastley?’ and she said,
‘Of course, that’s who it was, Squadron Leader Eastley. He was hidden in
our
loft9 once in France during the Resistance. I remembered the way he
stood, and the set of his shoulders,’ and she said, ‘I should like to meet him
again,’ but we couldn’t find him.”
Miss Marple said nothing, just waited.
“And then,” said Lucy, “later I looked at him… He was standing with his
back to me and I saw what I ought to have seen before. That even when a
man’s fair his hair looks dark because he plasters it down with stuff.
Bryan’s hair is a sort of medium brown, I suppose, but it can look dark. So
you see, it might have been Bryan that your friend saw in the train. It
might….”
“Yes,” said Miss Marple. “I had thought of that.”
“I suppose you think of everything!” said Lucy bitterly.
“Well, dear, one has to really.”
“But I can’t see what Bryan would get out of it. I mean the money would
come to Alexander, not to him. I suppose it would make an easier life, they
could have a bit more luxury, but he wouldn’t be able to tap the capital for
his schemes, or anything like that.”
“But if anything happened to Alexander before he was twenty-one, then
Bryan would get the money as his father and next of kin,” Miss Marple
Lucy cast a look of horror at her.
“He’d never do that. No father would ever do that just—just to get the
money.”
Miss Marple sighed. “People do, my dear. It’s very sad and very terrible,
but they do.
“People do very terrible things,” went on Miss Marple. “I know a woman
who poisoned three of her children just for a little bit of insurance money.
And then there was an old woman, quite a nice old woman
apparently11,
who poisoned her son when he came home on leave. Then there was that
old Mrs. Stanwich. That case was in the papers. I dare say you read about
it. Her daughter died and her son, and then she said she was poisoned her-
self. There was poison in the
gruel12, but it came out, you know, that she’d
put it there herself. She was just planning to poison the last daughter. That
wasn’t exactly for money. She was jealous of them for being younger than
she was and alive, and she was afraid—it’s a terrible thing to say but it’s
true—they would enjoy themselves after she was gone. She’d always kept
a very tight hold on the purse
strings13. Yes, of course she was a little pecu-
liar14, as they say, but I never see myself that that’s any real excuse. I mean
you can be a little
peculiar15 in so many different ways. Sometimes you just
go about giving all your possessions away and writing cheques on bank
accounts that don’t exist, just so as to benefit people. It shows, you see,
that behind being peculiar you have quite a nice
disposition16. But of course
if you’re peculiar and behind it you have a bad disposition—well, there
you are. Now, does that help you at all, my dear Lucy?”
“Does what help me?” asked Lucy, bewildered.
“What I’ve been telling you,” said Miss Marple. She added gently, “You
mustn’t worry, you know. You really mustn’t worry. Elspeth McGillicuddy
will be here any day now.”
“I don’t see what that has to do with it.”
“No, dear, perhaps not. But I think it’s important myself.”
“I can’t help worrying,” said Lucy. “You see, I’ve got interested in the
family.”
“I know, dear, it’s very difficult for you because you are quite strongly
attracted to both of them, aren’t you, in very different ways.”
“What do you mean?” said Lucy. Her tone was sharp.
“I was talking about the two sons of the house,” said Miss Marple. “Or
rather the son and the son-in-law. It’s unfortunate that the two more un-
pleasant members of the family have died and the two more attractive
ones are left. I can see that Cedric Crackenthorpe is very attractive. He is
inclined to make himself out worse than he is and has a
provocative17 way
with him.”
“He makes me fighting mad sometimes,” said Lucy.
“Yes,” said Miss Marple, “and you enjoy that, don’t you? You’re a girl
with a lot of spirit and you enjoy a battle. Yes, I can see where that attrac-
tion lies. And then Mr. Eastley is a rather
plaintive18 type, rather like an un-
happy little boy. That, of course, is attractive, too.”
“And one of them’s a murderer,” said Lucy bitterly, “and it may be
either of them. There’s nothing to choose between them really. There’s
Cedric, not caring a bit about his brother Alfred’s death or about Harold’s.
He just sits back looking
thoroughly19 pleased making plans for what he’ll
do with Rutherford Hall, and he keeps saying that it’ll need a lot of money
to develop it in the way he wants to do. Of course I know he’s the sort of
person who exaggerates his own
callousness20 and all that. But that could be
a cover, too. I mean everyone says that you’re more
callous21 than you
really are. But you mightn’t be. You might be even more callous than you
seem!”
“Dear, dear Lucy, I’m so sorry about all this.”
“And then Bryan,” went on Lucy. “It’s extraordinary, but Bryan really
seems to want to live there. He thinks he and Alexander could find it aw-
fully22 jolly and he’s full of schemes.”
“He’s always full of schemes of one kind or another, isn’t he?”
“Yes, I think he is. They all sound rather wonderful—but I’ve got an un-
easy feeling that they’d never really work. I mean, they’re not practical.
The idea sounds all right—but I don’t think he ever considers the actual
working difficulties.”
“They are up in the air, so to speak?”
“Yes, in more ways than one. I mean they are usually
literally23 up in the
air. They are all air schemes. Perhaps a really good fighter pilot never
does quite come down to earth again….”
She added: “And he likes Rutherford Hall so much because it reminds
him of the big
rambling24 Victorian house he lived in when he was a child.”
“I see,” said Miss Marple thoughtfully. “Yes, I see….”
Then, with a quick sideways glance at Lucy, she said with a kind of
verbal
pounce25, “But that isn’t all of it, is it, dear? There’s something else.”
“Oh, yes, there’s something else. Just something that I didn’t realize until
just a couple of days ago. Bryan could actually have been on that train.”
“On the 4:33 from Paddington?”
“Yes. You see Emma thought she was required to account for her move-
ments on 20th December and she went over it all very carefully—a com-
mittee meeting in the morning, and then shopping in the afternoon and
tea at the Green Shamrock, and then, she said, she went to meet Bryan at the
station. The train she met was the 4:50 from Paddington, but he could
have been on the earlier train and pretended to come by the later one. He
told me quite
casually26 that his car had had a biff and was being repaired
and so he had to come down by train—an awful bore, he said, he hates
trains. He seemed quite natural about it all… It may be quite all right—but
I wish, somehow, he hadn’t come down by train.”
“Actually on the train,” said Miss Marple thoughtfully.
“It doesn’t really prove anything. The awful thing is all this suspicion.
Not to know. And perhaps we never shall know!”
“Of course we shall know, dear,” said Miss Marple briskly. “I mean—all
this isn’t going to stop just at this point. The one thing I do know about
murderers is that they can never let well alone. Or perhaps one should say
—ill alone. At any rate,” said Miss Marple with finality, “they can’t once
they’ve done a second murder. Now don’t get too upset, Lucy. The police
are doing all they can, and looking after everybody—and the great thing is
that Elspeth McGillicuddy will be here very soon now!”
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