Sixteen
W hen Craddock got to 4 Madison Road he found Lucy Eyelesbarrow with Miss Marple.
He hesitated for a moment in his plan of campaign and then decided¹ that Lucy Eyelesbarrow might prove avaluable ally.
After greetings, he solemnly drew out his notecase, extracting three pound notes, added three shillings and pushedthem across the table to Miss Marple.
“What’s this, Inspector²?”
“Consultation fee. You’re a consultant—on murder! Pulse, temperature, local reactions, possible deepseated causeof said murder. I’m just the poor harassed³ local G.P.”
Miss Marple looked at him and twinkled. He grinned at her. Lucy Eyelesbarrow gave a faint gasp⁴ and thenlaughed.
“Why, Inspector Craddock—you’re human after all.”
“Oh, well, I’m not strictly⁵ on duty this afternoon.”
“I told you we had met before,” said Miss Marple to Lucy. “Sir Henry Clithering is his godfather—a very oldfriend of mine.”
“Would you like to hear, Miss Eyelesbarrow, what my godfather said about her—the first time we met? Hedescribed her as just the finest detective God ever made—natural genius cultivated in a suitable soil. He told me neverto despise the”—Dermot Craddock paused for a moment to seek for a synonym⁶ for “old pussies”—“—er elderlyladies. He said they could usually tell you what might have happened, what ought to have happened, and even whatactually did happen! And,” he said, “they can tell you why it happened. He added that this particular—er—elderly lady—was at the top of the class.”
“Well!” said Lucy. “That seems to be a testimonial all right.”
Miss Marple was pink and confused and looked unusually dithery.
“Dear Sir Henry,” she murmured. “Always so kind. Really I’m not at all clever—just perhaps, a slight knowledgeof human nature—living, you know, in a village—”
She added, with more composure:

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