“Indeed. I always imagined she was very fond of you both.”
“I haven’t noticed it,” I said. “But, as a matter of fact, it was Lettice Protheroe who upset her. Mary came back from the inquest in rather a temperamental state and found Lettice here and—well, they had words.”
“Oh! said Miss Marple. She was just about to step through the window when she stopped suddenly, and a bewildering series of changes passed over her face.
“Oh, dear!” she muttered to herself. “I have been stupid. So that was it. Perfectly possible all the time.”
“I beg your pardon?”
She turned a worried face upon me.
“Nothing. An idea that has just occurred to me. I must go home and think things out thoroughly. Do you know, I believe I have been extremely stupid—almost incredibly so.”
“I find that hard to believe,” I said gallantly.
I escorted her through the window and across the lawn.
“Can you tell me what it is that has occurred to you so suddenly?” I asked.
“I would rather not—just at present. You see, there is still a possibility that I may be mistaken. But I do not think so. Here we are at my garden gate. Thank you so much. Please do not come any farther.”