The Body in the Library

‘A woman, you say, Clara? Found dead on Colonel Bantry’s hearthrug?’

‘Yes, mum. And they say, mum, as she hadn’t anything on at all, mum, not a stitch!’

‘That will do, Clara. It is not necessary to go into details.’

‘No, mum, and they say, mum, that at first they thought it was Mr Blake’s young lady—what comes down for the weekends with ’im to Mr Booker’s new ’ouse. But now they say it’s quite a different young lady. And the fishmonger’s young man, he says he’d never have believed it of Colonel Bantry—not with him handing round the plate on Sundays and all.’

‘There is a lot of wickedness in the world, Clara,’ said Mrs Price Ridley. ‘Let this be a warning to you.’

‘Yes, mum. Mother, she never will let me take a place where there’s a gentleman in the ’ouse.’

‘That will do, Clara,’ said Mrs Price Ridley.

It was only a step from Mrs Price Ridley’s house to the vicarage.

Mrs Price Ridley was fortunate enough to find the vicar in his study.

The vicar, a gentle, middle-aged man, was always the last to hear anything.

‘Such a terrible thing,’ said Mrs Price Ridley, panting a little, because she had come rather fast. ‘I felt I must have your advice, your counsel about it, dear vicar.’

Mr Clement looked mildly alarmed. He said:

‘Has anything happened?’

‘Has anything happened?’ Mrs Price Ridley repeated the question dramatically. ‘The most terrible scandal! None of us had any idea of it. An abandoned woman, completely unclothed, strangled on Colonel Bantry’s hearthrug.’

The vicar stared. He said:

‘You—you are feeling quite well?’

‘No wonder you can’t believe it! I couldn’t at first. The hypocrisy of the man! All these years!’

‘Please tell me exactly what all this is about.’

Mrs Price Ridley plunged into a full-swing narrative. When she had finished Mr Clement said mildly:

‘But there is nothing, is there, to point to Colonel Bantry’s being involved in this?’

‘Oh, dear vicar, you are so unworldly! But I must tell you a little story. Last Thursday—or was it the Thursday before? well, it doesn’t matter—I was going up to London by the cheap day train. Colonel Bantry was in the same carriage. He looked, I thought, very abstracted. And nearly the whole way he buried himself behind The Times. As though, you know, he didn’t want to talk.’

The vicar nodded with complete comprehension and possible sympathy.

‘At Paddington I said good-bye. He had offered to get me a taxi, but I was taking the bus down to Oxford Street—but he got into one, and I distinctly heard him tell the driver to go to—where do you think?’

Mr Clement looked inquiring.

‘An address in St John’s Wood!’

Mrs Price Ridley paused triumphantly.

The vicar remained completely unenlightened.

‘That, I consider, proves it,’ said Mrs Price Ridley.

At Gossington, Mrs Bantry and Miss Marple were sitting in the drawing-room.

‘You know,’ said Mrs Bantry, ‘I can’t help feeling glad they’ve taken the body away. It’s not nice to have a body in one’s house.’

Miss Marple nodded.

‘I know, dear. I know just how you feel.’

‘You can’t,’ said Mrs Bantry; ‘not until you’ve had one. I know you had one next door once, but that’s not the same thing. I only hope,’ she went on, ‘that Arthur won’t take a dislike to the library. We sit there so much. What are you doing, Jane?’

For Miss Marple, with a glance at her watch, was rising to her feet.

‘Well, I was thinking I’d go home. If there’s nothing more I can do for you?’

‘Don’t go yet,’ said Mrs Bantry. ‘The finger-print men and the photographers and most of the police have gone, I know, but I still feel something might happen. You don’t want to miss anything.’

The telephone rang and she went off to answer. She returned with a beaming face.

‘I told you more things would happen. That was Colonel Melchett. He’s bringing the poor girl’s cousin along.’

‘I wonder why,’ said Miss Marple.

‘Oh, I suppose, to see where it happened and all that.’

‘More than that, I expect,’ said Miss Marple.

‘What do you mean, Jane?’

‘Well, I think—perhaps—he might want her to meet Colonel Bantry.’

Mrs Bantry said sharply:

‘To see if she recognizes him? I suppose—oh, yes, I suppose they’re bound to suspect Arthur.’

‘I’m afraid so.’

‘As though Arthur could have anything to do with it!’

Miss Marple was silent. Mrs Bantry turned on her accusingly.

‘And don’t quote old General Henderson—or some frightful old man who kept his housemaid—at me. Arthur isn’t like that.’

‘No, no, of course not.’