Twenty-six
I
“Now, Elspeth, you’re quite clear as to what I want you to do?”
“I’m clear enough,” said Mrs. McGillicuddy, “but what I say to you is,
Jane, that it seems very odd.”
“It’s not odd at all,” said Miss Marple.
“Well, I think so. To arrive at the house and to ask almost immediately
whether I can—er—go upstairs.”
“It’s very cold weather,” Miss Marple
pointed1 out, “and after all, you
might have eaten something that disagreed with you and—er—have to ask
to go upstairs. I mean, these things happen. I remember poor Louisa Felby
came to see me once and she had to ask to go upstairs five times during
one little half hour. That,” added Miss Marple parenthetically, “was a bad
Cornish pasty.”
“If you’d just tell me what you’re driving at, Jane,” said Mrs. McGil-
licuddy.
“That’s just what I don’t want to do,” said Miss Marple.
“How
irritating2 you are, Jane. First you make me come all the way back
to England before I need—”
“I’m sorry about that,” said Miss Marple; “but I couldn’t do anything
else. Someone, you see, may be killed at any moment. Oh, I know they’re
all on their guard and the police are taking all the precautions they can,
but there’s always the outside chance that the murderer might be too
clever for them. So you see, Elspeth, it was your duty to come back. After
all, you and I were brought up to do our duty, weren’t we?”
“We certainly were,” said Mrs. McGillicuddy, “no laxness in our young
days.”
“So that’s quite all right,” said Miss Marple, “and that’s the taxi now,”
she added, as a faint
hoot3 was heard outside the house.
Mrs. McGillicuddy donned her heavy pepper- and- salt coat and Miss
Marple wrapped herself up with a good many shawls and scarves. Then
the two ladies got into the taxi and were driven to Rutherford Hall.
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