“Oh, what a bore! Can’t we get in through the window?”
“I’m afraid not. It is latched on the inside. Surely, Lettice, a yellow beret won’t be much good to you at present?”
“You mean mourning and all that? I shan’t bother about mourning. I think it’s an awfully archaic idea. It’s a nuisance about Lawrence—yes, it’s a nuisance.”
She got up and stood frowning abstractedly.
“I suppose it’s all on account of me and my bathing dress. So silly, the whole thing. …”
Griselda opened her mouth to say something, but for some unexplained reason shut it again.
A curious smile came to Lettice’s lips.
“I think,” she said softly, “I’ll go home and tell Anne about Lawrence being arrested.”
She went out of the window again. Griselda turned to Miss Marple.
“Why did you step on my foot?”
The old lady was smiling.
“I thought you were going to say something, my dear. And it is often so much better to let things develop on their own lines. I don’t think, you know, that that child is half so vague as she pretends to be. She’s got a very definite idea in her head and she’s acting upon it.”
Mary gave a loud knock on the dining-room door and entered hard upon it.