After leaving a message at the police station, the Chief Constable announced his intention of paying a visit to Miss Marple.
“You’d better come with me, vicar,” he said. “I don’t want to give a member of your flock hysterics. So lend the weight of your soothing presence.”
I smiled. For all her fragile appearance, Miss Marple is capable of holding her own with any policeman or Chief Constable in existence.
“What’s she like?” asked the colonel, as we rang the bell. “Anything she says to be depended upon or otherwise?”
I considered the matter.
“I think she is quite dependable,” I said cautiously. “That is, in so far as she is talking of what she has actually seen. Beyond that, of course, when you get on to what she thinks—well, that is another matter. She has a powerful imagination and systematically thinks the worst of everyone.”
“The typical elderly spinster, in fact,” said Melchett, with a laugh. “Well, I ought to know the breed by now. Gad, the tea parties down here!”
We were admitted by a very diminutive maid and shown into a small drawing-room.
“A bit crowded,” said Colonel Melchett, looking around. “But plenty of good stuff. A lady’s room, eh, Clement?”
I agreed, and at that moment the door opened and Miss Marple made her appearance.