because what would there be to find afterwards—only a big stone! But even that he tried to remove—when you came upon him.”
“I believe you are right,” I exclaimed, remembering the start of surprise Lawrence had given on seeing me that day. It had seemed natural enough at the time, but now. …
Miss Marple seemed to read my thoughts, for she nodded her head shrewdly.
“Yes,” she said, “it must have been a very nasty shock for him to come across you just then. But he turned it off very well—pretending he was bringing it to me for my rock gardens. Only—” Miss Marple became suddenly very emphatic. “ It was the wrong sort of stone for my rock gardens! And that put me on the right track!”
All this time Colonel Melchett had sat like a man in a trance. Now he showed signs of coming to. He snorted once or twice, blew his nose in a bewildered fashion, and said:
“Upon my word! Well, upon my word!”
Beyond that, he did not commit himself. I think that he, like myself, was impressed with the logical certainty of Miss Marple’s conclusions. But for the moment he was not willing to admit it.
Instead, he stretched out a hand, picked up the crumpled letter and barked out:
“All very well. But how do you account for this fellow Hawes! Why, he actually rang up and confessed.”
“Yes, that was what was so providential. The vicar’s sermon, doubtless. You know, dear Mr. Clement, you really preached a most remarkable sermon. It must have affected Mr. Hawes deeply. He could bear it no