Eight
I t was a moment or two before anyone took in what she was saying.
Carrie Louise said incredulously:
“Christian¹ shot? Dead? Oh, surely, that’s impossible.”
“If you don’t believe me,” said Miss Bellever, pursing her lips, and addressing not so much Carrie Louise, as theassembled company, “go and look for yourselves.”
She was angry. And her anger sounded in the crisp sharpness of her voice.
Slowly, unbelievingly, Carrie Louise took a step towards the door. Lewis Serrocold put a hand on her shoulder.
“No, dearest, let me go.”
He went out through the doorway². Dr. Maverick³, with a doubtful glance at Edgar, followed him. Miss Belleverwent with them.
Miss Marple gently urged Carrie Louise into a chair. She sat down, her eyes looking hurt and stricken.
“Christian—shot?” she said again.
It was the bewildered, hurt tone of a child.
Walter Hudd remained close by Edgar Lawson, glowering⁴ down at him. In his hand he held the gun that he hadpicked up from the floor.
Mrs. Serrocold said in a wondering voice:
“But who could possibly want to shoot Christian?”
It was not a question that demanded an answer.
Walter muttered under his breath:
“Nuts! The whole lot of them.”
Stephen had moved protectively closer to Gina. Her young, startled face was the most vivid thing in the room.
Suddenly the front door opened and a rush of cold air, together with a man in a big overcoat, came in.
The heartiness⁵ of his greeting seemed incredibly shocking.
“Hullo, everybody, what’s going on tonight? A lot of fog on the road. I had to go dead slow.”
For a startled moment, Miss Marple thought that she was seeing double. Surely the same man could not be standingby Gina and coming in by the door. Then she realised that it was only a likeness⁷ and not, when you looked closely,such a very strong likeness. The two men were clearly brothers with a strong family resemblance, but no more.

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