Twenty-seven
G riselda and Dennis had not yet returned. I realized that the most natural thing would have been for me to go up tothe house with Miss Marple and fetch them home. Both she and I had been so entirely¹ taken up with our preoccupationover the mystery that we had forgotten anybody existed in the world except ourselves.
I was just standing² in the hall, wondering whether I would not even now go over and join them, when the doorbellrang.
I crossed over to it. I saw there was a letter in the box, and presuming that this was the cause of the ring, I took itout.
As I did so, however, the bell rang again, and I shoved the letter hastily into my pocket and opened the front door.
It was Colonel Melchett.
“Hallo, Clement³. I’m on my way home from town in the car. Thought I’d just look in and see if you could give mea drink.”
“Delighted,” I said. “Come into the study.”
He pulled off the leather coat that he was wearing and followed me into the study. I fetched the whisky and sodaand two glasses. Melchett was standing in front of the fireplace, legs wide apart, stroking his closely croppedmoustache.
“I’ve got one bit of news for you, Clement. Most astounding⁵ thing you’ve ever heard. But let that go for theminute. How are things going down here? Any more old ladies hot on the scent⁶?”
“They’re not doing so badly,” I said. “One of them, at all events, thinks she’s got there.”
“Our friend, Miss Marple, eh?”
“Our friend, Miss Marple.”
“Women like that always think they know everything,” said Colonel Melchett.
He sipped⁷ his whisky and soda⁴ appreciatively.
“It’s probably unnecessary interference on my part, asking,” I said. “But I suppose somebody has questioned thefish boy. I mean, if the murderer left by the front door, there’s a chance the boy may have seen him.”

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