Complete Short Stories Of Miss Marple mm-16

by Agatha Christie

  'He tapped his eye,' said Miss Marple thoughtfully.

  Edward said eagerly, 'Does that convey anything to you? It made me think of an Arsene Lupin story where there was something hidden in a man's glass eye. But Uncle Mathew didn't have a glass eye.'

  Miss Marple shook her head. 'No - I can't think of anything at the moment.'

  Charmian said, disappointedly, 'Jane told us you'd say at once where to dig!'

  Miss Marple smiled. 'I'm not quite a conjurer, you know. I didn't know your uncle, or what sort of man he was, and I don't know the house or the grounds.'

  Charmian said, ' If you did know them? '

  'Well, it must be quite simple really, mustn't it?' said Miss Marple.

  'Simple!' said Charmian. 'You come down to Ansteys and see if it's simple!'

  It is possible that she did not mean the invitation to be taken seriously, but Miss Marple said briskly, 'Well, really, my dear, that's very kind of you. I've always wanted to have the chance of looking for buried treasure. And,' she added, looking at them with a beaming, late-Victorian smile, 'with a love interest too!'

  'You see!' said Gharmian, gesturing dramatically.

  They had just completed a grand tour of Ansteys. They had been round the kitchen garden - heavily trenched. They had been through the little woods, where every important tree had been dug round, and had gazed sadly on the pitted surface of the once smooth lawn. They had been up to the attic, where old trunks and chests had been rifled of their contents. They had been down to the cellars, where flagstones had been heaved unwillingly from their sockets. They had measured and tapped walls, and Miss Marple had been shown every antique piece of furniture that contained or could be suspected of containing a secret drawer.

  On a table in the morning room there was a heap of papers - all the papers that the late Mathew Stroud had left. Not one had been destroyed, and Charmian and Edward were wont to return to them again and again, earnestly perusing bills, invitations, and business correspondence in the hope of spotting a hitherto unnoticed clue.

  'Can you think of anywhere we haven't looked? ' demanded Charmian hopefully.

  Miss Marple shook her head. 'You seem to have been very thorough, my dear. Perhaps, it I may say so, just a little too thorough. I always think, you know, that one should have a plan. It's like my friend, Mrs. Eldritch; she had such a nice little maid, polished linoleum beautifully, but she was so thorough that she polished the bathroom floors too much, and as

  Mrs. Eldritch was stepping out of the bath the cork mat slipped from under her and she had a very nasty fall and actually broke her leg! Most awkward, because the bathroom door was locked, of course, and the gardener had to get a ladder and come in through the window - terribly distressing to Mrs. Eldritch, who had always been a very modest woman.'

  Edward moved restlessly.

  Miss Marple said quickly, 'Please forgive me. So apt, I know, to fly off at a tangent. But one thing does remind one of another. And sometimes that is helpful. All I was trying to say was that perhaps if we tried to sharpen our wits and think of a likely place -'

  Edward said crossly, 'You think of one, Miss Marple. Charmian's brains and mine are now only beautiful blanks!'

  'Dear, dear. Of course - most tiring for you. If you don't mind I'll just look through all this.' She indicated the papers on the table. 'That is, if there's nothing private - I don't want to appear to pry.'

  'Oh, that's all right. But I'm afraid you won't find anything.'

  She sat down by the table and methodically worked through the sheaf of documents. As she replaced each one, she sorted them automatically into tidy little heaps. When she had finished she sat staring in front of her for some minutes.

  Edward asked, not without a touch of malice, 'Well, Miss Marple?'

  She came to herself with a little start. 'I beg your pardon. Most helpful.'

  'You've found something relevant?'

  'Oh, no, nothing like that, but I do believe I know what sort of man your Uncle Mathew was. Rather like my own Uncle

  Henry, I think. Fond of rather obvious jokes. A bachelor, evidently - I wonder why - perhaps an early disappointment? Methodical up to a point, but not very fond of being tied up - so few bachelors are!'

  Behind Miss Marple's back Charmian made a sign to Edward. It said, 'She's ga-ga.'

  Miss Marple was continuing happily to talk of her deceased Uncle Henry. 'Very fond of puns, he was. And to some people puns are most annoying. A mere play upon words may be very irritating. He was a suspicious man too. Always was convinced the servants were robbing him. And sometimes, of course, they were, but not always. It grew upon him, poor man. Toward the end he suspected them of tampering with his food and finally refused to eat anything but boiled eggs! Said nobody could tamper with the inside of a boiled egg. Dear Uncle Henry, he used to be such a merry soul at one time - very fond of his coffee after dinner. He always used to say, 'This coffee is very Moorish,' meaning, you know, that he'd like a little more.'

  Edward felt that if he heard any more about Uncle Henry he'd go mad.

  'Fond of young people, too,' went on Miss Marple, 'but inclined to tease them a little, if you know what I mean. Used to put bags of sweets where a child just couldn't reach them.'

  Casting politeness aside, Charmian said, 'I think he sounds horrible!'

  'Oh, no, dear, just an old bachelor, you know, and not used to children. And he wasn't at all stupid, really. He used to keep a good deal of money in the house, and he had a safe put in. Made a great fuss about it - and how very secure it was. As a result of his talking so much, burglars broke in one night and actually cut a hole in the safe with a chemical device.'

  'Served him right,' said Edward.

  'Oh, but there was nothing in the safe,' said Miss Marple. 'You see, he really kept the money somewhere else - behind some volumes of sermons in the library, as a matter of fact. He said people never took a book of that kind out of the shelf!'

  Edward interrupted excitedly, 'I say, that's an idea. What about the library? '

  But Charmian shook a scornful head. 'Do you think I hadn't thought of that? I went through all the books Tuesday of last week, when you went off to Portsmouth. Took them all out, shook them. Nothing there.'

  Edward sighed. Then, rousing himself, he endeavoured to rid himself tactfully of their disappointing guest. 'It's been awfully good of you to come down as you have and try to help us. Sorry it's been all a washout. Feel we trespassed a lot on your time. However - I'll get the car out and you'll be able to catch the three-thirty -'

  'Oh,' said Miss Marple, 'but we've got to find the money, haven't we? You mustn't give up, Mr. Rossiter. 'If at first you don't succeed, try, try, try again.' '

  'You mean you're going to go - on trying? '

  'Strictly speaking,' said Miss Marple, 'I haven't begun yet. 'First catch your hare,' as Mrs. Beeton says in her cookery book - a wonderful book but terribly expensive; most of the recipes begin, 'Take a quart of cream and a dozen eggs.' Let me see, where was I? Oh, yes. Well, we have, so to speak, caught our hare - the hare being, of course, your Uncle Mathew, and we've only got to decide now where he would have hidden the money. It ought to be quite simple.'

  'Simple?' demanded Charmian.

  'Oh yes, dear. I'm sure he would have done the obvious thing. A secret drawer - that's my solution.'

  Edward said dryly, 'You couldn't put bars of gold in a secret drawer.'

  'No, no, of course not. But there's no reason to believe the money is in gold.'

  'He always used to say -'

  'So did my Uncle Henry about his safe! So I should strongly suspect that that was just a simple blind. Diamonds, now they could be in a secret drawer quite easily.'

  'But we've looked in all the secret drawers. We had a cabinet-maker over to examine the furniture.'

  'Did you, dear? That was clever of you. I should suggest your uncle's own desk would be the most likely. Was it the tall escritoire against the wall there? '

  'Yes.
And I'll show you.' Charmian went over to it. She took down the flap. Inside were pigeon-holes and little drawers. She opened a small door in the centre and touched a spring inside the left-hand drawer. The bottom of the centre recess clicked and skid forward. Charmian drew it out, revealing a shallow well beneath. It was empty.

  'Now isn't that a coincidence,' exclaimed Miss Marple. 'Uncle Henry had a desk just like this, only his was burr walnut and this is mahogany.'

  'At any rate, 'said Charmian, 'there's no thing there, as you can see.'

  'I expect,' said Miss Marple, 'your cabinetmaker was a young man. He didn't know everything. People were very artful when they made hiding places in those days. There's such a thing as a secret inside a secret.'

  She extracted a hairpin from her neat bun of grey hair. Straightening it out, she stuck the point into what appeared to be a tiny wormhole in one side of the secret recess. With a little difficulty she pulled out a small drawer. In it was a bundle of faded letters and a folded paper.

  Edward and Charmian pounced on the find together. With trembling fingers Edward unfolded the paper. He dropped it with an exclamation of disgust.

  'A cookery recipe. Baked ham!'

  Charmian was untying a ribbon that held the letters together. She drew one out and glanced at it. 'Love letters!'

  Miss Marple reacted with Victorian gusto. 'How interesting! Perhaps the reason your uncle never married.'

  Charmian read aloud:

  'My ever dear Mathew, I must confess that the time seems long indeed since I received your last letter. I try to occupy myself with the various tasks allotted to me, and often say to myself that I am indeed fortunate to see so much of the globe, though little did I think when I went to America that I should voyage off to these far islands!'

  Charmian broke off. 'Where is it from? Oh, Hawaii!' She went on:

  'Alas, these natives are still far from seeing the light. They are in an unclothed and savage state and spend most of their time swimming and dancing, adorning themselves with garlands of flowers. Mr. Gray has made some converts but it is uphill work and he and Mrs. Gray get sadly discouraged. I try to do all I can to cheer and encourage him, but I, too, am often sad for a reason you can guess, dear Mathew. Alas, absence is a severe trial to a loving heart. Your renewed vows and protestations of affection cheered me greatly. Now and always you have my faithful and devoted heart, dear Mathew, and I remain - Your true love, Betty Martin.'

  'P.S. - I address my letter under cover to our mutual friend, Matilda Graves, as usual. I hope Heaven will pardon this little subterfuge.'

  Edward whistled. 'A female missionary! So that was Uncle Mathew's romance. I wonder why they never married?'

  'She seems to have gone all over the world,' said Charmian, looking through the letters. 'Mauritius - all sorts of places. Probably died of yellow fever or something.'

  A gentle chuckle made them start. Miss Marple was apparently much amused. 'Well, well,' she said. 'Fancy that, now.'

  She was reading the recipe for baked ham. Seeing their inquiring glances, she read out. ' 'Baked Ham with Spinach. Take

  a nice piece of gammon, stuff with cloves and cover with brown sugar. Bake in a slow oven. Serve with a border of pureed spinach.'

  'What do you think of that now? '

  'I think it sounds filthy,' said Edward.

  'No, no, actually it would be very good - but what do you think of the whole thing? '

  A sudden ray of light illuminated Edward's face. 'Do you think it's a code - cryptogram of some kind? ' He seized it.

  'Look here, Charmian, it might be, you know! No reason to put a cooking recipe in a secret drawer otherwise.'

  'Exactly,' said Miss Marple. 'Very, very significant.'

  Charmian said, 'I know what it might be - invisible ink! Let's heat it. Turn on the electric fire.'

  Edward did so. But no signs of writing appeared under the treatment.

  Miss Marple coughed. 'I really think, you know, that you're making it rather too difficult. The recipe is only an indication, so to speak. It is, I think, the letters that are significant.'

  'The letters?'

  'Especially,' said Miss Marple, 'the signature.'

  But Edward hardly heard her. He called excitedly, 'Charmian! Come here! She's right. See - the envelopes are old right enough, but the letters themselves were written much later.'

  'Exactly,' said Miss Marple.

  'There're only fake old. I bet anything old Uncle Mat faked them himself -'

  'Precisely,' said Miss Marple.

  'The whole thing's a sell. There never was a female missionary. It must be a code.'

  'My dear, dear children - there's really no need to make it all so difficult. Your uncle was really a very simple man. He had to have his little joke, that was all.'

  For the first time they gave her their full attention. 'Just exactly what do you mean, Miss Marple? ' asked Charmian.

  'I mean, dear, that you' re actually holding the money in your hand this minute.'

  Charmian stared down.

  'The signature, dear. That gives the whole thing away. The recipe is just an indication. Shorn of all the cloves and brown sugar and the rest of it, what is it actually? Why, gammon and spinach to be sure! Gammon and spinach! Meaning - nonsense! So it's clear that it's the letters that are important. And then, if you take into consideration what your uncle did just before he died. He tapped his eye, you said. Well, there you are - that gives you the clue, you see.'

  Charmian said, 'Are we mad, or are you? '

  'Surely, my dear, you must have heard the expression meaning that something is not a true picture, or has it quite died out nowadays: 'All my eye and Betty Martin.' '

  Edward gasped, his eyes falling to the letter in his hand. 'Betty Martin -'

  'Of course, Mr. Rossiter. As you have just said, there isn't - there wasn't any such person. The letters were written by your uncle, and I dare say he got a lot of fun out of writing them! As you say, the writing on the envelopes is much older - in fact, the envelopes couldn't belong to the letters anyway, because the postmark of the one you are holding is eighteen fifty-one.'

  She paused. She made it very emphatic: 'Eighteen fifty-one. And that explains everything, doesn't it?'

  'Not to me,' said Edward.

  'Well, of course,' said Miss Marple, 'I dare say it wouldn't to me if it weren't for my great-nephew Lionel. Such a dear little boy and a passionate stamp collector. Knows all about stamps. It was he who told me about rare and expensive stamps and that a wonderful new find had come up for auction. And I actually remember his mentioning one stamp - an 1851 blue 2 cent. It realised something like $25,000, I believe. Fancy! I should imagine that the other stamps are something also rare and expensive. No doubt your uncle bought through dealers and was careful to 'cover his tracks,' as they say in detective stories.'

  Edward groaned. He sat down and buried his face in his hands.

  'What's the matter?' demanded Charmian.

  'Nothing. It's only the awful thought that, but for Miss Marple, we might have burned these letters in a decent, gentlemanly way!'

  'Ah,' said Miss Marple, 'that's just what these old gentlemen who are fond of their joke never realise. My Uncle Henry, I remember, sent a favourite niece a five-pound note for a Christmas present. He put it inside a Christmas card, gummed the card together, and wrote on it: 'Love and best wishes. Afraid this is all I can manage this year.'

  'She, poor girl, was annoyed at what she thought was his meanness and threw it all straight into the fire. So then, of course, he had to give her another.'

  Edward's feelings toward Uncle Henry had suffered an abrupt and complete change.

  'Miss Marple,' he said, 'I'm going to get a bottle of champagne. We'll all drink the health of your Uncle Henry.'

  The Case of the Perfect Maid

  'O, if you please, madam, could I speak to you a moment?'

  It might be thought that this request was in the nature of an absurdity, since Edna,
Miss Marple's little maid was actually speaking to her mistress at the moment.

  Recognizing the idiom, however, Miss Marple said promptly, 'Certainly, Edna. Come in and shut the door. What is it?'

  Obediently shutting the door, Edna advanced into the room, pleated the corner of her apron between her fingers, and swallowed once or twice.

  'Yes, Edna?' said Miss Marple encouragingly.

  'Oh, please, ma'am, it's my cousin Gladdie. You see, she's lost her place.'

  'Dear me, I am sorry to hear that. She was at Old Hall, wasn't she, with the Miss - Misses - Skinner?'

  'Yes, ma'am, that's right, ma'am. And Gladdie's very upset about it - very upset indeed.'

  'Gladys has changed places rather often before, though, hasn't she?'

  'Oh yes, ma'am. She's always one for a change, Gladdie is. She never seems to get really settled, if you know what I mean. But she's always been the one to give the notice, you see!'

  'And this time it's the other way round?' asked Miss Marple dryly.

  'Yes, ma'am, and it's upset Gladdie something awful.' Miss Marple looked slightly surprised. Her recollection of Gladys, who had occasionally come to drink tea in the kitchen on her 'days out,' was a stout, giggling girl of unshakably equable temperament.

  Edna went on: 'You see, ma'am, it's the way it happened - the way Miss Skinner looked.'

  'How,' inquired Miss Marple patiently, 'did Miss Skinner look?'

  This time Edna got well away with her news bulletin. 'Oh, ma'am, it was ever such a shock to Gladdie. You see, one of Miss Emily's brooches was missing, and such a hue and cry for it as never was, and of course, nobody likes a thing like that to happen; it's upsetting, ma'am. If you know what I mean. And Gladdie's helped search everywhere, and there was Miss Lavinia saying she was going to the police about it, and then it turned up again, pushed right to the back of a drawer in the dressing-table, and very thankful Gladdie was. 'And the very next day as ever was a plate got broken, and Miss Lavinia, she bounced out right away and told Gladdie to take a month's notice. And what Gladdie feels is it couldn't have been the plate and that Miss Lavinia was just making an excuse of that, and that it must be because of the brooch and they think as she took it and put it back when the police was mentioned, and Gladdie wouldn't do such a thing, not never she wouldn't, and what she feels is as it will get round and tell against her, and it's a very serious thing for a girl as you know, ma'am.'