“Dangerous?”
“Most dangerous. Innocent girls—know no better—taken in by a fellow like that—always hanging round women. … No good.”
From which I deduced that the only young man in the village had not passed unnoticed by the fair Gladys.
“Goodness,” ejaculated Dr. Stone. “The train!”
We were close to the station by this time and we broke into a fast sprint. A down train was standing in the station and the up London train was just coming in.
At the door of the booking office we collided with a rather exquisite young man, and I recognized Miss Marple’s nephew just arriving. He is, I think, a young man who does not like to be collided with. He prides himself on his poise and general air of detachment, and there is no doubt that vulgar contact is detrimental to poise of any kind. He staggered back. I apologized hastily and we passed in. Dr. Stone climbed on the train and I handed up his baggage just as the train gave an unwilling jerk and started.
I waved to him and then turned away. Raymond West had departed, but our local chemist, who rejoices in the name of Cherubim, was just setting out for the village. I walked beside him.
“Close shave that,” he observed. “Well, how did the inquest go, Mr. Clement?”
I gave him the verdict.
“Oh! So that’s what happened. I rather thought that would be the verdict. Where’s Dr. Stone off to?”
I repeated what he had told me.