The Complete Miss Marple Collection by Agatha Christie

sound way of arriving at the truth. It’s really what people call intuition and make such a fuss about. Intuition is like readinga word without having to spell it out. A child can’t do that because it has had so little experience. But a grown-up person knows the word because they’ve seen it often before. You catch my meaning, Vicar?”
    â€œYes,” I said slowly, “I think I do. You mean that if a thing reminds you of something else—well, it’s probably the same kind of thing.”
    â€œExactly.”
    â€œAnd what precisely does the murder of Colonel Protheroe remind you of?”
    Miss Marple sighed.
    â€œThat is just the difficulty. So many parallels come to the mind. For instance, there was Major Hargreaves, a churchwarden and a man highly respected in every way. And all the time he was keeping a separate second establishment—a former housemaid, just think of it! And five children—actually five children—a terrible shock to his wife and daughter.”
    I tried hard to visualize Colonel Protheroe in the rôle of secret sinner and failed.
    â€œAnd then there was that laundry business,” went on Miss Marple. “Miss Hartnell’s opal pin—left most imprudently in a frilled blouse and sent to the laundry. And the woman who took it didn’t want it in the least and wasn’t by any means a thief. She simply hid it in another woman’s house and told the police she’d seen this other woman take it. Spite, you know, sheer spite. It’s an astonishing motive—spite. A man in it, of course. There always is.”
    This time I failed to see any parallel, however remote.
    â€œAnd then there was poor Elwell’s daughter—such a pretty ethereal girl—tried to stifle her little brother. And there was themoney for the Choir Boys’ Outing (before your time, Vicar) actually taken by the organist. His wife was sadly in debt. Yes, this case makes one think so many things—too many. It’s very hard to arrive at the truth.”
    â€œI wish you would tell me,” I said, “who were the seven suspects?”
    â€œThe seven suspects?”
    â€œYou said you could think of seven people who would—well, be glad of Colonel Protheroe’s death.”
    â€œDid I? Yes, I remember I did.”
    â€œWas that true?”
    â€œOh! Certainly it was true. But I mustn’t mention names. You can think of them quite easily yourself. I am sure.”
    â€œIndeed I can’t. There is Lettice Protheroe, I suppose, since she probably comes into money on her father’s death. But it is absurd to think of her in such a connection, and outside her I can think of nobody.”
    â€œAnd you, my dear?” said Miss Marple, turning to Griselda.
    Rather to my surprise Griselda coloured up. Something very like tears started into her eyes. She clenched both her small hands.
    â€œOh!” she cried indignantly. “People are hateful—hateful. The things they say! The beastly things they say….”
    I looked at her curiously. It is very unlike Griselda to be so upset. She noticed my glance and tried to smile.
    â€œDon’t look at me as though I were an interesting specimen you didn’t understand, Len. Don’t let’s get heated and wander from the point. I don’t believe that it was Lawrence or Anne, and Lettice is out of the question. There must be some clue or other that would help us.”
    â€œThere is the note, of course,” said Miss Marple. “You will remember my saying this morning that that struck me as exceedingly peculiar.”
    â€œIt seems to fix the time of his death with remarkable accuracy,” I said. “And yet, is that possible? Mrs. Protheroe would only have just left the study. She would hardly have had time to reach the studio. The only way in which I can account for it is that he consulted his own watch and that his watch was slow. That seems to