“Oh! yes, indeed. Why,” she counted on her fingers, “one, two, three, four, five, six—yes, and a possible seven. I can think of at least seven people who might be very glad to have Colonel Protheroe out of the way.”
The colonel looked at her feebly.
“Seven people? In St. Mary Mead?”
Miss Marple nodded brightly.
“Mind you I name no names,” she said. “That wouldn’t be right. But I’m afraid there’s a lot of wickedness in the world. A nice honourable upright soldier like you doesn’t know about these things, Colonel Melchett.”
I thought the Chief Constable was going to have apoplexy.