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What I feel is that if one has got to have a murder actually happening in one’s house, one might as well enjoy it, if you know what I mean.
For Miss Marple had attained fame by her ability to link up trivial village happenings with graver problems in such a way as to throw light upon the latter.
She was a good-looking young woman of perhaps nearer thirty than twenty, her looks depending more on skilful grooming than actual features. She looked competent and good-tempered, with plenty of common sense. She was not the type that would ever be described as glamorous, but she had nevertheless plenty of attraction. She was discreetly made-up and wore a dark tailor-made suit. Though she looked anxious and upset she was not, the Colonel decided, particularly grief-stricken.
They were flying home one year from France and there was an accident. They were all killed: the pilot, Mrs. Jefferson, Rosamund, and Frank. Conway had both legs so badly injured they had to be amputated. And he’s been wonderful—his courage, his pluck! He was a very active man and now he’s a helpless cripple, but he never complains.
Adelaide Jefferson had the power of creating a restful atmosphere. She was a woman who never seemed to say anything remarkable but who succeeded in stimulating other people to talk and setting them at their ease.
Dorothy Sayers and Agatha Christie and Dickson Carr and H. C. Bailey.
Here was a man who would never rail against fate but accept it and pass on to victory.
I made a new will about ten days ago.”
“I left the sum of fifty thousand pounds to be held in trust for Ruby Keene until she was twenty-five, when she would come into the principal.”
Cherchez l’homme.” “What? Oh, very good, sir.”
“Human nature is very much the same anywhere, Sir Henry.” Sir Henry said distastefully:
I’ve had more experience. You see, Sir Henry, it seems to me that there’s a great possibility of this crime being the kind of crime that never does get solved. Like the Brighton trunk murders.
But this other whispering business will break him—will break them both. So you see, Sir Henry, we’ve got to find out the truth.”
“Such curious things happen, don’t they? If I were to say that this particular plan went wrong because human beings are so much more vulnerable and sensitive than anyone thinks, it wouldn’t sound sensible, would it? But that’s what I believe—
only it had been some other kind of girl.
He ought really to have accustomed Frank to independence little by little.
“No. He’s been wonderful. But he’s conquered his own terrible tragedy by refusing to recognize death.
“I’m very fond of him—and at the same time I resent him. I’ll try and explain. Conway Jefferson is a man who likes to control his surroundings.
The English, Sir Henry decided, had a distrust for any man who danced too well! This fellow moved with too much grace! Ramon—Raymond—which was his name? Abruptly, he asked the question.
“No, I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t tell a soul.” “People who use that phrase are always the last to live up to it. It’s no good,
