“Sleepy sickness, eh? Always some good reason nowadays for every dirty action that’s done. Don’t you agree?”
“Science is teaching us a lot.”
“Science be damned—I beg your pardon, Clement; but all this namby pambyism annoys me. I’m a plain man. Well, I suppose we’d better have a look round here.”
But at this moment there was an interruption—and a most amazing one. The door opened and Miss Marple walked into the room.
She was pink and somewhat flustered, and seemed to realize our condition of bewilderment.
“So sorry—so very sorry—to intrude—good evening, Colonel Melchett. As I say, I am so sorry, but hearing that Mr. Hawes was taken ill, I felt I must come round and see if I couldn’t do something.”
She paused. Colonel Melchett was regarding her in a somewhat disgusted fashion.
“Very kind of you, Miss Marple,” he said dryly. “But no need to trouble. How did you know, by the way?”
It was the question I had been yearning to ask!
“The telephone,” explained Miss Marple. “So careless with their wrong numbers, aren’t they? You spoke to me first, thinking I was Dr. Haydock. My number is three five.”
“So that was it!” I exclaimed.
There is always some perfectly good and reasonable explanation for Miss Marple’s omniscience.