“H’m, I suppose it is.” He was silent for a minute or two and then, unable to resist discussing his recent failure, he went on: “Fishy business, it looks to me.”
“You think so?”
“If you ask me, I say ‘blackmail.’ Seems funny, when you think of what Colonel Protheroe was always supposed to be. But there, you never can tell. He wouldn’t be the first churchwarden who’d led a double life.”
Faint remembrances of Miss Marple’s remarks on the same subject floated through my mind.
“You really think that’s likely?”
“Well, it fits the facts, sir. Why did a smart, well-dressed lady come down to this quiet little hole? Why did she go and see him at that funny time of day? Why did she avoid seeing Mrs. and Miss Protheroe? Yes, it all hangs together. Awkward for her to admit—blackmail’s a punishable offence. But we’ll get the truth out of her. For all we know it may have a very important bearing on the case. If Colonel Protheroe had some guilty secret in his life—something disgraceful—well, you can see for yourself what a field it opens up.”
I suppose it did.
“I’ve been trying to get the butler to talk. He might have overheard some of the conversation between Colonel Protheroe and Lestrange. Butlers do sometimes. But he swears he hasn’t the least idea of what the conversation was about. By the way, he got the sack through it. The colonel went for him, being angry at his having let her in. The butler retorted by giving notice. Says he didn’t like the place anyway and had been thinking of leaving for some time.”
“Really.”