LITMIR.BIZ

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too, at first. But I haven’t. She really came in and said so.’

      ‘Mary came in and said there was a body in the library?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘But there couldn’t be,’ said Colonel Bantry.

      ‘No—no, I suppose not,’ said Mrs Bantry doubtfully.

      Rallying, she went on:

      ‘But then why did Mary say there was?’

      ‘She can’t have.’

      ‘She did.’

      ‘You must have imagined it.’

      ‘I didn’t imagine it.’

      Colonel Bantry was by now thoroughly awake and prepared to deal with the situation on its merits. He said kindly:

      ‘You’ve been dreaming, Dolly, that’s what it is. It’s that detective story you were reading—The Clue of the Broken Match. You know—Lord Edgbaston finds a beautiful blonde dead on the library hearthrug. Bodies are always being found in libraries in books. I’ve never known a case in real life.’

      ‘Perhaps you will now,’ said Mrs Bantry. ‘Anyway, Arthur, you’ve got to get up and see.’

      ‘But really, Dolly, it must have been a dream. Dreams often do seem wonderfully vivid when you first wake up. You feel quite sure they’re true.’

      ‘I was having quite a different sort of dream—about a flower show and the vicar’s wife in a bathing-dress—something like that.’

      With a sudden burst of energy Mrs Bantry jumped out of bed and pulled back the curtains. The light of a fine autumn day flooded the room.

      ‘I did not dream it,’ said Mrs Bantry firmly. ‘Get up at once, Arthur, and go downstairs and see about it.’

      ‘You want me to go downstairs and ask if there’s a body in the library? I shall look a damned fool.’

      ‘You needn’t ask anything,’ said Mrs Bantry. ‘If there is a body—and of course it’s just possible that Mary’s gone mad and thinks she sees things that aren’t there—well, somebody will tell you soon enough. You won’t have to say a word.’

      Grumbling, Colonel Bantry wrapped himself in his dressing-gown and left the room. He went along the passage and down the staircase. At the foot of it was a little knot of huddled servants; some of them were sobbing. The butler stepped forward impressively.

      ‘I’m glad you have come, sir. I have directed that nothing should be done until you came. Will it be in order for me to ring up the police, sir?’

      ‘Ring ’em up about what?’

      The butler cast a reproachful glance over his shoulder at the tall young woman who was weeping hysterically on the cook’s shoulder.

      ‘I understood, sir, that Mary had already informed you. She said she had done so.’

      Mary gasped out:

      ‘I was so upset I don’t know what I said. It all came over me again and my legs gave way and my inside turned over. Finding it like that—oh, oh, oh!’

      She subsided again on to Mrs Eccles, who said: ‘There, there, my dear,’ with some relish.

      ‘Mary is naturally somewhat upset, sir, having been the one to make the gruesome discovery,’ explained the butler. ‘She went into the library as usual, to draw the curtains, and—and almost stumbled over the body.’

      ‘Do you mean to tell me,’ demanded Colonel Bantry, ‘that there’s a dead body in my library—my library?’

      The butler coughed.

      ‘Perhaps, sir, you would like to see for yourself.’

      ‘Hallo, ’allo, ’allo. Police station here. Yes, who’s speaking?’

      Police-Constable Palk was buttoning up his tunic with one hand while the other held the receiver.

      ‘Yes, yes, Gossington Hall. Yes? Oh, good-morning, sir.’ Police-Constable Palk’s tone underwent a slight modification. It became less impatiently official, recognizing the generous patron of the police sports and the principal magistrate of the district.

      ‘Yes, sir? What can I do for you?—I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t quite catch—a body, did you say?—yes?—yes, if you please, sir—that’s right, sir—young woman not known to you, you say?—quite, sir. Yes, you can leave it all to me.’

      Police-Constable Palk replaced the receiver, uttered a long-drawn whistle and proceeded to dial his superior officer’s number.

      Mrs Palk looked in from the kitchen whence proceeded an appetizing smell of frying bacon.

      ‘What is it?’

      ‘Rummest thing you ever heard of,’ replied her husband. ‘Body of a young woman found up at the Hall. In the Colonel’s library.’

      ‘Murdered?’

      ‘Strangled, so he says.’

      ‘Who was she?’

      ‘The Colonel says he doesn’t know her from Adam.’

      ‘Then what was she doing in ’is library?’

      Police-Constable Palk silenced her with a reproachful glance and spoke officially into the telephone.

      ‘Inspector Slack? Police-Constable Palk here. A report has just come in that the body of a young woman was discovered this morning at seven-fifteen—’

      Miss Marple’s telephone rang when she was dressing. The sound of it flurried her a little. It was an unusual hour for her telephone to ring. So well ordered was her prim spinster’s life that unforeseen telephone calls were a source of vivid conjecture.

      ‘Dear me,’ said Miss Marple, surveying the ringing instrument with perplexity. ‘I wonder who that can be?’

      Nine o’clock to nine-thirty was the recognized time for the village to make friendly calls to neighbours. Plans for the day, invitations and so on were always issued then. The butcher had been known to ring up just before nine if some crisis in the meat trade had occurred. At intervals during the day spasmodic calls might occur, though it was considered bad form to ring after nine-thirty at night. It was true that Miss Marple’s nephew, a writer, and therefore erratic, had been known to ring up at the most peculiar times, once as late as ten minutes to midnight. But whatever Raymond West’s eccentricities, early rising was not one of them. Neither he nor anyone of Miss Marple’s acquaintance would be likely to ring up before eight in the morning. Actually a quarter to eight.

      Too early even for a telegram, since the post office did not open until eight.

      ‘It must be,’ Miss Marple decided, ‘a wrong number.’

      Having decided this, she advanced to the impatient instrument and quelled its clamour by picking up the receiver. ‘Yes?’ she said.

      ‘Is that you, Jane?’

      Miss Marple was much surprised.

      ‘Yes, it’s Jane. You’re up very early, Dolly.’

      Mrs Bantry’s voice came breathless and agitated over the wires.

      ‘The most awful thing has happened.’

      ‘Oh, my dear.’

      ‘We’ve just found a body in the library.’

      For a moment Miss Marple thought her friend had gone mad.

      ‘You’ve found a what?’

      ‘I know. One doesn’t believe it, does one? I mean, I thought they only happened in books. I had to argue for hours with Arthur this morning before he’d even go down and see.’

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