'I thought the same,' said Sir Henry, 'but I took the precaution of verifying that there was a Mrs. Greene and a church social. One can't be too careful, you know.'
'That's what our friend Miss Marple always says,' said Dr. Lloyd, smiling. 'You're lost in a daydream, Miss Marple. What are you thinking out? '
Miss Marple gave a start.
'So stupid of me,' she said. 'I was just wondering why the word Honesty in Dr. Rosen's letter was spelled with a capital H.'
Mrs. Bantry picked it up.
'So it is,' she said. 'Oh!'
'Yes, dear,' said Miss Marple. 'I thought you'd notice!'
'There's a definite warning in that letter,' said Colonel Bantry. 'That's the first thing caught my attention. I notice more than you'd think. Yes, a definite warning - against whom?'
'There's rather a curious point about that letter,' said Sir Henry. 'According to Templeton, Dr. Rosen opened the letter at breakfast and tossed it across to him, saying he didn't know who the fellow was from Adam.'
'But it wasn't a fellow,' said Jane Helier. 'It was signed 'Georgina.' '
'It's difficult to say which it is,' said Dr. Lloyd. 'It might be Georgey, but it certainly looks more like Georgina. Only it strikes me that the writing is a man's.'
'You know, that's interesting,' said Colonel Bantry. 'His tossing it across the table like that and pretending he knew nothing about it. Wanted to watch somebody's face. Whose face - the girl's? Or the man's?'
'Or even the cook's?' suggested Mrs. Bantry. 'She might have been in the room bringing in the breakfast. But what I don't see is… it's most peculiar -'
She frowned over the letter. Miss Marple drew closer to her. Miss Marple's finger went out and touched the sheet of paper. They murmured together.
'But why did the secretary tear up the other letter?' asked Jane Helier suddenly. 'It seems - oh, I don't know - it seems queer. Why should he have letters from Germany? Although, of course, if he' s above suspicion, as you say -'
'But Sir Henry didn't say that,' said Miss Marple quickly, looking up from her murmured conference with Mrs. Bantry. 'He said four suspects. So that shows that he includes Mr. Templeton. I'm right, am I not, Sir Henry? '
'Yes, Miss Marple. I have learned one thing through bitter experience. Never say to yourself that anyone is above suspicion. I gave you reasons just now why three of these people might after all be guilty, unlikely as it seemed. I did not at that time apply the same process to Charles Templeton. But I came to it at last through pursuing the rule I have just mentioned. And I was forced to recognise this: That every army and every navy and every police force has a certain number of traitors within its ranks, much as we hate to admit the idea. And I examined dispassionately the case against Charles Templeton.
'I asked myself very much the same questions as Miss Helier has just asked. Why should he, alone of all the house, not be able to produce the letter he had received - a letter, moreover, with a German stamp on it. Why should he have letters from Germany?
'The last question was an innocent one, and I actually put it to him. His reply came simply enough. His mother's sister was married to a German. The letter had been from a German girl cousin. So I learned something I did not know before - that Charles Templeton had relations with people in Germany. And that put him definitely on the list of suspects - very much so. He is my own man - a lad I have always liked and trusted; but in common justice and fairness I must admit that he heads that list.
'But there it is - I do not know! I do not know… And in all probability I never shall know. It is not a question of punishing a murderer. It is a question that to me seems a hundred times more important. It is the blighting, perhaps, of an honourable man's whole career…because of suspicion - a suspicion that I dare not disregard.'
Miss Marple coughed and said gently:
'Then, Sir Henry, if I understand you rightly, it is this young Mr. Templeton only who is so much on your mind? '
'Yes, in a sense. It should, in theory, be the same for all four, but that is not actually the case. Dobbs, for instance - suspicion may attach to him in my mind, but it will not actually affect his career. Nobody in the village has ever had any idea that old Dr. Rosen's death was anything but an accident. Gertrud is slightly more affected. It must make, for instance, a difference in Fraulein Rosen's attitude toward her. But that, possibly, is not of great importance to her.
'As for Greta Rosen - well, here we come to the crux of the matter. Greta is a very pretty girl and Charles Templeton is a good-looking young man, and for five months they were thrown together with no outer distract ions. The inevitable happened.
They fell in love with each other - even if they did not come to the point of admitting the fact in words.
'And then the catastrophe happens. It is three months ago now, and a day or two after I returned, Greta Rosen came to see me. She had sold the cottage and was returning to Germany, having finally settled up her uncle's affairs. She came to me personally, although she knew I had retired, because it was really about a personal matter she wanted to see me. She beat about the bush a little, but at last it all came out. What did I think? That letter with the German stamp - she had worried about it and worried about it - the one Charles had torn up. Was it all right? Surely it must be all right. Of course she believed his story, but - oh, if she only knew! If she knew - for certain.
'You see? The same feeling: the wish to trust - but the horrible lurking suspicion, thrust resolutely to the back of the mind, but persisting nevertheless. I spoke to her with absolute frankness and asked her to do the same. I asked her whether she had been on the point of caring for Charles and he for her.
''I think so,' she said. 'Oh yes, I know it was so. We were so happy. Every day passed so contentedly. We knew - we both knew. There was no hurry - there was all the time in the world. Some day he would tell me he loved me, and I should tell him that I, too - Ah! But you can guess! And now it is all changed. A black cloud has come between us - we are constrained, when we meet we do not know what to say. It is, perhaps, the same with him as with me… We are each saying to ourselves, 'If I were sure!' That is why, Sir Henry, I beg of you to say to me, 'You may be sure, whoever killed your uncle, it was not Charles Templeton!' Say it to me! Oh, say it to me! I beg - I beg!'
''I couldn't say it to her. They'll drift farther and farther apart, those two - with suspicion like a ghost between them - a ghost that can't be laid.'
He leaned back in his chair; his face looked tired and grey. He shook his head once or twice despondently.
'And there's nothing more can be done, unless -' He sat up straight again and a tiny whimsical smile crossed his face. - 'unless Miss Marple can help us. Can't you, Miss Marple? I've a feeling that letter might be in your line, you know. The one about the church social. Doesn't it remind you of something or someone that makes everything perfectly plain? Can't you do something to help two helpless young people who want to be happy?'
Behind the whimsicality there was something earnest in his appeal. He had come to think very highly of the mental powers of this frail, old-fashioned maiden lady. He looked across at her with something very like hope in his eyes.
Miss Marple coughed and smoothed her lace.
'It does remind me a little of Annie Poultny,' she admitted. 'Of course the letter is perfectly plain - both to Mrs. Bantry and myself. I don't mean the church-social letter, but the other one. You living so much in London and not being a gardener, Sir Henry, would not have been likely to notice.'
'Eh?' said Sir Henry. 'Notice what?'