# Such captivating green eyes #
# Those tender and serene eyes #
# Those never ever mean eyes #
# They're so loving and true #
# The sea beneath the blue skies #
# Is reflecting your green eyes #
# And the trees... #
# in the woodland# Do you know something, Miss Marple?
I rather suspect that you and I both share a secret passion.
Do we, Mr Treves?
Murder, Miss Marple.
Well, I'm not quite sure that I would describe it as such.
Detective stories get it all wrong.
They begin with the murder when it should come at the end.
- Don't you think? - In certain cases, perhaps.
Then again...
Miss Marple, I think it would be safe to say
I am pretty expert in these matters.
Oh, without a doubt, Mr Treves.
You've devoted a whole lifetime to the law.
And 99 times out of 100, a murder evolves over years,
with all the causes and events bringing certain people
to a certain place at a certain time. All...
What's the word?
Converging, Mr Treves?
That's it. Converging.
Converging towards a given spot and then it comes, wallop!
The zero hour. All converging. Converging.
- Towards zero? - Yes, bull's-eye!
Towards zero.
MAYFAIR, THREE MONTHS EARLIER
I bumped into Bunty yesterday.
Did you?
She's asked us to join them in Monte in July.
Wouldn't that be simply divine?
It's too sickening we can't.
We can't, can we?
No, we can't.
I don't want to go to dreary old Devon.
We have to. I owe it to Camilla.
I know we've got to suck up to her a bit...
It's not a question of sucking up.
It's a question of affection.
And piles of dosh.
- You know she hates me. - Of course she doesn't.
It's all about Audery. I know it is.
One's never forgiving me.
She's old.
Her generation finds divorce hard to take.
She even thinks you behaved badly.
I did.
Just because Audrey chose to make such a frightful fuss.
She had a nervous breakdown.
She was playing up.
You have to learn to lose gracefully.
You have to accept these things.
She did. She divorced me so we could marry.
Anyway, you two had nothing in common.
She's just like a mangled old dishcloth.
She gives me the creeps.
Perhaps we should join Bunty down in Monte Carlo.
What about Devon? Camilla?
We can always pop down in September.
But I thought she's always there in September.
- Audrey, you mean. - Yes, of course, Audrey.
We can't be there at the same time.
Gull's Point, Devon
Preposterous! The boy must be barking!
- It does seem rather odd. - Wives making friends?
Oh, it's too revolting.
No, no, no, it can't be Nevile's idea.
Must have come from that ghastly trollop he married.
Well, people tend to be a little more relaxed nowadays
about this sort of thing.
Not under my roof!
It's only because Matthew, God rest his soul,
was so devoted to the boy
that I allow that scarlet-toed creature here at all.
I do not like her. The way she pursued Nevile
until his marriage was in tatters.
No, I blame her entirely for the whole thing.
Well, Nevile had a little to do with it.
But of course he did, stupid boy!
But if it hadn't been for that harlot's persistence...
Poor Audrey. What that woman's been through.
And she was so nearly such a good wife.
If only she'd been a little more athletic.
Good morning.
- Nowadays, there's simply no... - Discretion?
Exactly. So girls like Kay Mortimer go around
stealing other people's husbands
and gad about with entirely unsuitable types
like that young man who's always hanging around her.
-Ted Latimer. - Yes.
Touch of the Dago, I suspect.
Unless he wears make-up, which wouldn't at all surprise me.
He's a friend from her Riviera days.
I'd very much like to know
how he manages to live the way that he does.
By his wits, I would imagine.
I expect he'll be loafing about
at Easterhead while they're here.
Oh, why can't everyone leave me in peace?
Old Freddie Treves practically next door at Balmoral Court.
Thomas Royde boring us all senseless with tales from Malaya.
And Miss Marple, of course.
Oh, and of course, Marple.
A sketching holiday, I ask you!
She'll be over at Easterhead too.
Mm, Marple and the gigolo.
Now, there's a thought.
No doubt she'll be poking her nose in everywhere.
She was just the same at school and such a ghastly swot!
Perhaps you'd prefer that I put Nevile off.
Oh, no, let them all do what they want.
With any luck I'll be dead by September.
Deuce.
CENTRE COURT,WIMBLEDON
Advantage Strange.
His backhand's good, I'll give him that.
I wasn't expecting to see you here.
Oh, you know me.
Never miss an opportunity.
And how's the devoted wife today?
Absolutely furious.
Deuce.
Nevile's got it into his head that Audrey and I...
Audrey, mind... that we should become bosom buddies.
- What on earth for? - I haven't the faintest idea.
Have you heard of anything so stupid?
And he wants us all to go on holiday together
down to Camilla's in Devon.
I don't know what's got into him.
- When are you going? - September, apparently.
It's bound to be her doing.
Sneaky little cat.
Don't worry, sugar. I'll be there to hold your hand.
I'll book a room at the hotel across the bay.
Advantage Merrick.
Out!
- The ball was out. - It was in.
- Of course it was. - Game set and championship, Merrick.
6-3, 2-6, 6-4, 7-5.
That's Nevile's trouble. He's too bloody sporting.
Gull's Point, September
I must say, I found Nevlle's suggestion quite disgusting.
It might, you know, be rather a good thing.
You can't want to be here with that dreadful woman.
It's not that bad. And if Nevile wants it....
But do you want it? That's the question.
Yes?
- My God! - What is it?
For a second I thought it was Rita Hayworth.
You stupid child!
Hello, you gorgeous old thing.
Rude, horrible creature.
- How are you? - Irresistible.
We've been so looking forward to this, darling, haven't we?
We couldn't wait. Hello, Camilla.
Kay. Yes.
- Settled in? - Yes, thank you.
Naughty boy.
This is all perfectly ghastly.
- Thomas... - Hello, Mary.
How lovely.
- Seven years. - Nearly eight.
Is it really? That's too long.
How's the plantation?
Damned hard work.
- Rubber, isn't it? - Yes.
But I'm thinking of branching out into sago.
Sago?
Well...
Nothing's changed much around here.
Oh, except for that vile new hotel.
Thank you.
Nice of the old girl to put me up.
I hope it hasn't been a bother.
It's a Godsend, believe me.
Audrey's particularly looking forward to seeing you.
Is she?
Things have been difficult with Nevile
and his wife there as well
His idea, apparently.
Not a very good one, as it turns out.
Mr Treves, sir. Welcome back to the Balmoral Court.
Oh, Mrs Rogers! The old gaff all spick and span?
There's been a slight change of plan, sir.
But I'm sure you won't be disappointed.
There she is, stately as a galleon.
Yes, dear old Gull's Point.
No, stop!
What the devil...?
Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to startle you,
but I-I thought...
Oh,Yes,I'm afraid I've always tended to stand too near edge.
Yes, it...is rather tempting, isn't it?
I had to fetch this, thought I'd get some air.
Nevile Strange.
I know. Jane Marple.
I've just popped in to see Camilla
and came up here to try a little sketch.
Friend of hers, are you?
Oh, yes, we go back a long way.
On and off.
Such a pity about Wimbledon, Mr Strange.
- That boy who beat you... Berwick? - Merrick.
Flash in the pan, I'm sure.
The best man on the day.
Sporting life. Oh, how fascinating!
You must tell me all about it this evening.
This evening?
Mm, that will be nice.
Goodbye, then, Mr Strange.
This is all I could find. The illustrated Post.
That'll do, I suppose.
Nevile.
I'm so sorry, Nevile. I thought you were speaking to me.
- Oh, but... - No.
- I'm so sorry. - Who the hell are you?
- Royde. Thomas Royde. - Oh, yes, the man from Malaya.
- That's right. - Well,if I were you,l'd go back, pronto.
- Ah, Royde. Hello, there. - Strange.
Didn't know you'd arrived.
- Met the wife, I suppose. - In a manner of speaking.
Yes. I'd better go and...
So...here we all are.
Is Camilla not joining us?
I'm afraid not, Miss Marple.
Nowadays she prefers her own room.
Is your hotel comfortable?
Oh, yes. Most comfortable, thank you.
Yes, it's not a bad old dive.
And top-notch billiards.
We should all come over one day.
It's got a lovely sandy beach.
I was thinking of going sailing tomorrow.
I'd like that.
We can all go sailing.
I thought you were playing golf.
I can play another day.
- Do you play golf, Kay? - Hardly.
She'd be good if she took the trouble.
She's got a natural swing.
- Do you play games, Audrey? - No, I don't.
So you and Camilla were at school together, Miss Marple?
- Yes, indeed. - There's a thought.
The two of you in boaters and gymslips.
And how long have you known Camilla, Mr Treves?
Oh, we go back years. Through Matthew,that's how I know her.
Matt and I took silk together, yes.
Whenever I'm down in this part of the world,
I always make sure I see the old girl.
Mr Treves is staying close by at the Balmoral Court.
You always have the same suite, don't you?
Not this year, unfortunately.
Some cock-up with the booking so they've put me up top.
Good job they've got a lift.
Dicky ticker, you see.
Still...sharp as a knife, eh, Mr Treves?
Oh, yes. I haven't forgotten who I am yet.
I say, that Merrick's doing rather well, isn't he?
Gave you a damn good thrashing at any rate, eh?
Move the table, Nevile.
Teddy...dance with me.
That hair, flame-red. Unforgettable.
Would you care to dance?
Her ladyship's compliments, Miss Marple,
and she would be glad to see you in her room.
Thank you.
Excuse me.
Everyone behaving themselves?
Yes. It was the most delicious dinner.
I expect the gigolo put that racket on.
Or was it the frightful Kay?
They seem to be having a good time.
It's not a bloody dance hall!
- Sketching, eh? - Yes.
- Been at it long? - No.
But I must...
Always good with your hands, weren't you?
Needlework, pottery, all that sort of nonsense.
Too fiddly for me.
Much prefer to be on a pitch with a stick in my hand.
- I remember... - Only exercise I get now
is lifting these damn things to my lips.
- We weren't that bad-looking, were we, Jane? - No.
- I think we were... - Look at us now.
Two old crocks waiting to drop off the twig.
So...what do you think to the harem?
I'm not sure I...
I just can't fathom how a chap could leave Audrey for Kay.
- It does happen. - Of course it happens.
But if you were a man, wouldn't she drive you off your nut?
Perhaps it won't last.
He may marry again. Maybe even return to his first wife.
To Audrey? Oh, no, never. No, she's too proud.
Oh, where love is concerned,
pride is a quality more often spoken of than acted on.
You don't mean she might still hold a candle for him?
Oh, no, no! No, she's behaving perfectly,
In an impossible situation.
Whereas Nevile is behaving very badly indeed.
So, tell me about Malaya.
Ah Miss Marple dismissed from the Royal presence!
Care for a dance?
Oh, that's most kind of you, Mr Treves.
But I think perhaps not.
Just as well. Probably kill me.
Oh, that young fellow knows his onions.
- Yes. - Quite the professlonal.
Rather decorative, too. I wonder what he does for a living.
One can only imagine, eh?
I sense you're quite a shrewd observer, Mr Treves.
You're a shrewd observer yourself.
You know something, Miss Marple?
I rather suspect that you and I both share a secret passion.
Do we, Mr Treves?
And what would that be, I wonder?
Murder, Miss Marple.
Time for your tonic, m'lady.
- Waste disposal on the mend, Barrett? - Oh, no, m'lady.
I'll be forever a slave to my bowels.
I see they've acquitted the Morphine Murderer.
It was in The Times this morning.
Morphine Murderer?
Jumped the gun calling him that in the first place.
Accidental overdose, they decided.
You sound sceptical, Mr Royde.
Well, it sounds pretty dodgy to me.
Where there's smoke and all that.
I knew a case once...
Oh, perhaps not.
- Oh, do go on, Mr Treves. It concerned two children.
They were playing with bows and arrows
and one shot the other in the eye and the poor child died.
''A regrettable accident,'' the inquest concluded.
Was that it?
Yes. Well, there was another side to the story.
A farmer, some time previously, happened to have noticed
the child who fired the fatal shot practising.
You mean it might not have been an accident at all?
I don't know,
but it was stated at the inquest that neither child
had ever used a bow and arrow before.
- What did the farmer do? - He did nothing.
Perhaps he felt the child
should be given the benefit of the doubt.
But you're in no doubt, are you, Mr Treves?
It was murder, Mrs Strange.
Particularly ingenious and planned down to the last detail.
What was the reason?
Childish revenge for a perceived injustice.
But to keep hold of that intent,
quietly practising, day after day,
and then the final piece of acting,
with the accident and a pretence of grief.
That could only stem from the wickedest mind.
Well, now, there's food for thought.
- What happened? - A change of name.
The child is now an adult somewhere in the world.
The question is,
does that person still have a murderer's heart?
It was a long time ago...
but I would recognise my little killer anywhere.
Surely not.
Oh, yes.
Because of a certain physical peculiarity.
But I'd best not dwell on the subject.
I shall be on my way.
No, have another drink, Mr Treves.
Why not come out for a little?
I think I shall go to bed.
Thank you.
Do excuse me. I must see that Lady Tressilian is settled.
You've danced me off my feet, Teddy.
Simply must go to bed.
Good night, everyone.
Good night, Teddy.
Oh, there's a plan afoot to come to Easterhead tomorrow.
Whenever you're ready, Miss Marple.
That's very kind of you, Mr Latimer.
I nearly forgot. There's something I have to get from car.
What a restless young man!
A friend of Mrs Strange, I understand.
Of Kay Strange, yes.
Confusing, isn't it? Having two of them in the house.
More uncomfortable, I would imagine,for original Mrs Strange.
I expect so.
You were brought up together, weren't you?
You and Audrey Strange.
- Yes. - You must know her well.
Why did she come, Mr Royde?
I suppose she didn't like to refuse.
I wonder why he would be anxious for such a reunion.
I really don't know. Bit stupid of him, if you ask me.
- Good night. - Good night.
I'm so sorry about that.
Your coat, Miss Marple.
Thank you.
You must come again.
You seem to have cheered her up enormously.
- What have you got there? - Dance records.
Kay asked me to bring them over.
She didn't say.
Ted...
We'll make a move. Motor's out front.
- Goodbye. - Goodbye.
Mr Treves...
- I'll walk you back, shall I? - Yes, yes.
- It's a beautiful night. - Yes.
Do you know, I think I might join you.
A little air would be lovely.
Thank you.
Delightful evening...
..Miss Aldin.
Most instructive.
Oh, Thomas, you gave me a shock.
Been down to the ferry for a bit of a walk.
Oh, nightmare, ssh...
quiet as the grave,
which is perhaps why I feel so much more at home.
- Damnation. - What's wrong?
Lift's out of order. I'm going to have to walk up.
You could always come back and stay the night.
Nonsense! Fit as a fid...as a fiddle.
- Let me come up with you. - I wouldn't hear of it.
If I go slowly...slowly...
One step, two step...
up the wooden hill.
Good night, ladies.
- Good night, Mr Treves. - Good night.
Good night.
out of order.
Donald!
Donald! Don't run off, Donald, there's a good boy.
Donald!
Such an odd story Mr Treves told last night, wasn't it?
- The child and the bow and arrow. - Yes.
It sent a shiver up my spine.
He's such a funny old stick.
- Oh, Teddy! - Kay and Ted go well together, don't they?
I suppose they do.
They like the same things, have the same opinions.
They lead such different lives from me.
I quite envy them.
And even you with all your...unhappiness.
You've had experiences that I shall probably never have.
I envy you too. I really do.
It can't be much fun for you... living with Camilla.
Well, I'm well fed, comfortably housed...
Thousands of women don't even have that.
Poor old Thomas.
I'll go and have a word.
Please don't get up. Do you mind if I join you?
Please, be my guest.
Mr Latimer.
May I?
Of course.
You've been deserted, I see.
Yes...she's been claimed by her legal owner.
Are you enjoying yourself down here, Mr Latimer?
As much as I'd enjoy myself anywhere.
They don't like me, Miss Marple.
The Gull's Point mob.
I'm an outsider and they don't take to outsiders.
You don't take much to them, I suspect.
What's it particularly you don't like about them,Mr Latimer?
They're smug. That's what I don't like.
Really pleased with themselves.
Shut off from the common herd.
- I'm sorry you feel like that. - It's true, though.
Perhaps they may, from time to time,
appear as you say, somewhat smug.
But really inside I'm sure they're quite human.
Whatever their faults,
I don't believe malice to be one of them.
You're not very happy, are you?
Have you always been in love with her?
And she?
I thought so.
Till Strange came along.
Are you still in love with her?
Shouldn't you go away from here, Mr Latimer?
You're only letting yourself in for more unhappiness.
Sweet old thing, aren't you?
- By the way, I've got your earring. - Oh, good.
I hate being without earrings.
- Why is that? - Because of this.
Oh, yes, old Bouncer bit you.
He had a sore paw or something.
Yes, and I stupidly bent down to stroke him.
I was very young.
It was just after your family took me in.
It was quite nasty but you can hardly see a thing now.
Still, I know it's there.
Why did you marry him?
- I fell in love. - Why?
What attracted you?
- You hate him, don't you? - Hardly surprising, is it?
He's got everything I haven't.
I'm just dull old Thomas with a gammy arm.
He married the only girl I've ever cared for.
And you've always known that, haven't you?
I know you don't care for me.
Even as children, you preferred Adrian.
He had a schoolboy crush.
I wish it had been me in that car and not him.
Don't, Thomas, please.
There's something I don't understand about that.
- About what? - Adrian's death.
Well, it's really very simple.
He died...in a car accident.
What was he doing down here?
- Why didn't he visit Camilla? - How should I know?
I'm beginning to think it isn't
so simple as just another accident on a country road.
Hello, Audrey. Royde.
I'll stretch my legs.
- It is all right between us, isn't it? - Yes, of course.
I mean, we're good friends and all that.
Yes. Why wouldn't we be?
Nevile!
Audrey...
- Nevile! - Your wife wants you.
- Kay, you mean. - That's what I said.
You're my wife, Audrey.
Miss Aldin...
her ladyship wants to see you at once.
Oh, Mary, I'm so glad you're back.
- Camilla, what is it? - It's Freddie Treves. He's dead.
- Dead? - Yes, Isn't it terrible?
Would you go to the Balmoral Court
and ask if there's anything we can do?
Yes, yes, of course.
I gather Mr Treves was
dining with you at Gull's Point last night.
- Yes, Doctor. - How did he seem?
Very well.
This heart business...
You just never know when it's going to hit you.
I had a look at his medication
and it was clear he was in a pretty bad way.
He was always so careful.
I'm sure he was, Mrs Rogers.
But any extra strain, however slight, and bingo.
- Such as walking up stairs. - Absolutely.
Although I'm sure he would have avoided that.
Oh, yes. He always used the lift. Always.
- Except last night. - What do you mean, Miss Aldin?
Well, the lift was out of order, wasn't it?
No, it hasn't been out of order for weeks.
What a terrible thing!
Yes.
Perhaps it was sort of misunderstanding or a practical joke.
It's not very funny.
You bastard!
Oh, dear!
This is not what you think.
It's exactly what I think.
You just can't keep away from her, can you?
Oh, for God's sake, Kay!
- I'll leave you alone. - Yes, I wish you would!
Yes, that's right, run away! You've got what you wanted!
It's nothing to do with her. Blame me if you like.
Oh, I do like.
Making me look like an idiot.
What sort of man are you?
A pretty poor one.
You come after me, you divorce your wife.
It's no good, Kay. We don't belong.
I won't let you go back to her.
I'll kill you first. And her too.
I expect you'll be glad when things get back to normal.
Do you still play the piano?
I'm afraid I've let it slip.
You used to play rather well.
I thought you didn't like music.
I wondered how you managed an octave.
Your hands are so small.
I've got a long little finger.
Mm, that means you're selfish.
Is that true?
Yes, it is.
If you're unselfish, you have a short one.
Your left hand's what you're born with
and your right hand's what you make of your life.
Now, Nevile here is a very interesting case,
aren't you, darling?
Look how small his left hand little finger is.
Whereas his right one's... really quite long.
Which shows just how selfish he's become.
An old wives' tale.
And you know all about them, don't you?
How long is it now you've been with Lady Tressilian?
Oh, well, erm...
I came when my father died, so... going on 15 years now.
Tell us about your arm, Mr Royde.
It happened when I was a child.
I was jammed in a door during an earthquake.
It left me rather lop-sided.
Stop it, Mr Royde, please!
Think I might pop over to Easterhead,
catch Latimer for a game of billiards.
- Will you take the car? - No, ferry.
It's pouring.
I know.
I'm going to bed.
I've got a killing head. Good night.
Good night.
Night.
Well, I'd better be off.
If you please, sir, Lady Tressilian would like a word.
There are certain things that I will not permit in my house.
I have no wish to listen to anybody's private conversations,
but if you and your wife insist on brawling in full view...
Sorry about that.
You wish Kay to divorce you so that
you and Audrey can remarry, is that right?
If that's the gist of what you've heard...
I will not allow it.
I would have thought that's my business.
You've used my house to contact Audrey.
Or else she's used it.
She's done nothing of the sort.
Kay is your wife.
She has rights of which you cannot deprive her.
You've made your bed, now lie on it.
It's got nothing to do with you.
It has everything to do with me!
And Audrey leaves this house tomorrow!
You can't do that!
- Don't you raise your voice to me! - I will not have it!
First blow smashed the bone and killed her.
The second one was just to make sure.
How long has she been dead?
I'd put it between ten and midnight.
And this is what hit her, is it?
Presumably. She must have been hit with the back of it.
Well, that's...that's a bit awkward.
Damned awkward. The whole thing is awkward.
She was struck, you see, on the right temple. Whoever did it
must have stood here on the right-hand side,
looking towards the head of the bed.
- There's no room on the left. - Left-handed.
That's the easiest explanation.
Niblick's right-handed.
Perhaps it didn't belong to the man who used it, sir.
- Supposing it was a man. - It's heavy enough
for anyone to have landed a terrible swipe.
But you couldn't swear
this was the weapon, could you, Doctor?
I'd need to analyse the blood and the head.
Do you think she was awake when she was hit?
She looks fairly astonished.
Unless she slept like that.
A lovely set of prints, sir.
Very obliging chap.
He leaves you the murder weapon, good set of prints.
It's a wonder he didn't leave you his card.
- I'd better see to Barrett. - Who?
Lady Tressilian's maid.
She was found in a coma earlier this morning,
by the young housemaid, Alice. She's the one who found body.
- She'd been doped with barbiturates. - Had she, now?
She could have rung for help till she was blue in the face.
Her maid was out cold. Someone spiked her senna pods.
Well, I've not heard that one before.
Someone who knew the household routines.
That's where you come in, old chap.
This is Thomas Royde, an old friend of the family.
Audrey Strange, and this is, er... Nevile Strange
and Kay Strange, Nevile's wife. - Good morning.
- And this lady? - Oh, I'm sorry. This is Miss Marple.
- Jane Marple? - Yes.
Good morning, Superintendent. I don't believe we've met.
No, madam. But a colleague of mine, Colonel Melchett...
has spoken of you on more than one occasion.
- Well, I hope. - Well, he's certainly spoken of you.
Dear Colonel Melchett.
Does anybody recognise this?
Is that what... ?
How horrible!
Looks like one of mine.
Can I see?
Go on.
- Yes, it is. - Golf as well as tennis, sir.
Yes.
I saw you at Wimbledon.
- My daughter's a great fan of tennis. - Good.
Particularly keen on that Merrick chap.
He certainly knows how to hit a ball, doesn't he?
So, ladies and gentlemen, if you have no objection,
we'd like to take your fingerprints.
It's purely routine. If you'd care to make way into study
you'll find Detective Sergeant Jones waiting with his kit.
Er, sir.
I wonder if you've got any idea, sir,
who Lady Tressilian's solicitors are.
Yes, Asquith And Trelawney of Saltington.
Thank you, sir. I need to look into the estate.
You mean who inherits the money.
That's right, sir. The will and all that.
Well, I don't know about her will.
I don't think she had much of her own,
but as to the bulk of her property...
Yes, Mr Strange?
..it comes to me and my wife
under the will of her late husband, Sir Matthew.
He was my official guardian, you see.
He and Lady Tressilian looked after me when my parents died.
He left the estate in trust for his wife during her lifetime
- Any idea of the amount? - Not off-hand, no.
Somewhere in the region of...100,000.
- Each? - Between us.
- A tidy sum, nonetheless. - It is, yes.
Although, erm...I've plenty of my own.
At what hour did Mr Strange leave the house?
Twenty-past ten, sir.
Or thereabouts.
I left the front door on the latch, sir,
for when he came back from Easterhead Bay.
Do you remember what time that was?
About half-past two, sir.
I heard voices...
then a car drive away...
..and then I heard Mr Nevile come upstairs.
- You heard something? - I couldn't help it, sir.
See, I was going up to bed and I had to pass ladyship's door.
I heard her and Mr Nevile going at it hammer and tongs.
Do you remember what was said?
Well, I wasn't listening, like...
Where did you find this?
In one drawer of the bottom of Mr Strange's wardrobe.
And look at this.
Looks like blood to me.
And it's spattered all the way up the sleeve.
- Well done, Williams. - And there's something else, sir.
Red hair, see? Here on the cuff.
And there's brown hairs on the collar and right shoulder.
Well, well. A regular Bluebeard, our Mr Strange.
His arm around one and the other wife's head on shoulder
And look at this, sir.
Could mean he was trying to wash the blood off.
- Where does that lead to? - Mrs Strange's room.
It's locked.
- On this side? - The other.
On her side, eh?
This is where Barrett always kept the senna pods, sir.
Nasty little things.
She put them in to soak at midday
and they stood there till she went to bed.
So anybody could get at them.
No prints on the packet, I suppose, or the glass.
Only Barrett's, apparently.
Easy enough just to drop the stuff in, anyway.
An inside job, don't you think, sir?
Excuse me, sir, but I've done all the prints
and only one set matches those on the niblick.
Nevile Strange's, I presume.
Planning your escape, Miss Marple?
Oh, Superintendent!
You shouldn't be up here, you know.
That's why I'm on my way down.
There was something I was going to tell you.
Miss Marple...
About the night before last. Poor Mr Treves.
We were dining at Gull's Point...
Is this something that could wait?
Do you think Miss Marple?
No, I'm quite sure it couldn't.
And after dinner, Mr Treves told us
the most tragic story that occurred some years ago.
Two children playing with bows and arrows and one dead.
- Shot through the eye. - Dear, dear.
- Accidents will happen. - That's just it, Superintendent.
He was convinced that it was not an accident
even though the child was acquitted.
But quite intentional, planned to the last detail.
Miss Marple, we really must...
And because of a certain physical peculiarity,
he'd recognise the murderer anywhere.
- Did he specify what? - No, I'm afraid he didn't.
- This'll have to wait. - There's more.
When Mr Treves returned to the hotel,
he found the lift out of order.
- I don't really see... - But apparently it wasn't.
It seems someone put the placard there by accident.
Accidents will happen.
Mr Treves, who had a very weak heart,
had to climb the stairs and died. I can't help feeling that
the placard was put there not by accident but by design.
Murder on the off-chance, you could say.
Because he'd recognised at dinner...
..the person who'd shot the arrow.
But please don't let me keep you.
Good morning.
Bit late, wasn't it, sir, to be going off to Easterhead?
It's quite lively over there, Superintendent,
as I'm sure you know.
And this is something of an early-to-bed household, isn't it?
- I took a key. - But not your wife?
She had a headache.
Please go on.
I was about to go up to change.
- Into what? - I'd been wearing a blue suit.
My best, as it happens. As I proposed taking the ferry,
I thought I'd change into an older one.
Dove grey...
anthracite lining, double-breasted.
We just like to get everything clear, sir.
- Do continue. - I was about to go up and change
when Hurstall told me that Lady Tressilian wanted to see me,
so, naturally, I obeyed the summons.
You were the last person to see her alive, I think.
Yes.
- I suppose I was. - How long were you with her?
20 minutes or so.
Then I changed, hurried off, just about caught the ferry.
Then at the hotel, eventually tracked down Latimer.
We had a game of billiards
and before we knew it, it was two o'clock.
The last ferry had gone by then, of course.
So Latimer very decently gave me a lift back.
It's quite a way, all round the estuary.
He dropped me off about half-past.
That chat with Lady Tressilian. All right, was it?
Why shouldn't it be?
Well, the thing is, sir, some of conversation was overheard.
We had a slight disagreement. It was nothing.
What about, sir?
Well, as a matter of fact, she ticked me off.
Nothing unusual there. The old bird was an expert.
Divorce and all that. She wouldn't have it,
so we both got a bit heated.
But we parted on perfectly friendly terms.
That niblick, Mr Strange...
Any reason why it would have your prints on it?
It's my club. Of course they'd be on it.
I certainly didn't bash her over the head with it.
I mean is there any reason why the prints would show
that you were the last person to have handled it.
That can't be true.
Somebody else must have handled it afterwards.
Someone wearing gloves.
Not without smudging your prints, sir.
It isn't true. It simply isn't true.
Why are the sleeves of your blue suit stained with blood?
That's ridiculous.
I wasn't even wearing that suit.
- Did you cut yourself, Mr Strange? - No, I did not.
Surely you can't think I did such a thing.
You must realise, Mr Strange, that we already have
sufficient evidence to request a warrant for your arrest.
What?
But we've decided to give you the benefit of the doubt.
For now.
I had a headache.
So I went to bed early.
The next thing I knew, that wretched girl
Alice was screaming the house down.
Your husband, did he happen to pop in to see how you were
before he went off for the evening? - No.
So you didn't see him from the time you went to bed
until you got up this morning. Is that right? - Yes.
I noticed the door between your rooms was locked.
Who locked it?
- Mrs Strange? - What?
The bedroom door - who locked it?
l did.
We'd had a row earlier on, if you must know.
I was furious with him.
Absolutely furious.
Oh, dear. What was all that about, then?
That bloody woman.
It's all her fault.
She's making him behave like a perfect idiot.
Which woman would that be?
His first wife, for goodness' sake - Audrey.
She got him down here in the first place.
Nevile says it was his idea, but it wasn't.
It was she who put the idea into his head
and made him believe he'd thought of it himself.
Why would she do a thing like that?
Because she wants to get her hands on him again.
She's never forgiven him for running off with me.
And this is her revenge.
She's got him wrapped round her little finger.
Why didn't you object to coming here, Mrs Strange?
Because it would have looked as though I were jealous.
- Aren't you? - Well, of course I am!
I've been jealous of Audrey from the start.
And Nevile's always felt guilty.
He could never quite forget her.
Anything you'd care to add, Inspector?
No, sir.
Well, thank you, Mrs Strange.
We have to ask a good many questions,
especially with your husband inheriting
so much from Lady Tressilian. 50,000.
As much as that?
Oh, how very generous.
We get it from old Sir Matthew's will, don't we?
You knew all about it, then?
Oh, yes. He left it to be divided between Nevile
and Nevile's wife after Lady Tressilian's death.
I must say, I didn't like her.
Probably because she didn't like me.
But it's too horrible to think of someone coming along
and cracking her over the head.
Do you know that Lady Tressilian
has left her maid, Barrett, a legacy?
- Yes, l did. - And that she left you one too?
- Yes. - Do you know how much?
Enough to live on.
Lady Tressilian was aware of how very little I have of my own.
I always come here in September.
And my husband - my ex-husband -
wanted to come too and asked if I'd mind.
- It was his suggestion? - Yes.
- Not yours. - It was his suggestion.
- And you agreed? - One doesn't like to be disobliging.
But you were the injured party.
- Yes. - And you don't feel any rancour against him?
Not at all.
You have a very forgiving nature, Mrs Strange.
Are you friendly with the present Mrs Strange?
l don't think she likes me very much.
- Do you like her? - I think she's very beautiful.
Well...
thank you, Mrs Strange. It's...most helpful.
You're wrong about Nevile, you know.
We were married for eight years.
He would never kill anyone for money.
I do wish you'd believe it.
Have you seen any peculiarities yet, sir?
They're all bloody peculiar if you ask me.
Audrey is a distant cousin.
She lost her parents when she was nine
and my family took her in.
She and the second Mrs Strange
haven't been getting on too well, have they, sir?
Can't say that I've noticed.
We found Mr Strange's fingerprints on the weapon.
Yes, he told us.
And some blood on the sleeves of his jacket.
The same group as Lady Tressilian, it transpires.
Do you think he did it, Mr Royde?
I think it's most unlikely.
Can you think of anyone more likely?
- No, I can't. - Don't loiter.
Ma'am.
We now think the murderer was left-handed.
Well, then, that narrows down your options, doesn't it,
Superintendent?
I'd taken my senna and was getting into bed...
when m'lady's bell rang.
Did you notice what time it was?
Twenty-five past ten.
Then, as I went down, I spotted Mr Neville on the stairs.
He was just going out.
Did you see what he was wearing?
His grey double-breasted.
Oh, he did look worried!
Then I went in to her ladyship and...
..she was so drowsy, poor dear,
she couldn't remember why she'd rung.
And that was the last I saw of her.
Is there anyone who doesn't like you very much, Mr Strange?
I don't think so.
Someone you might have injured in any way?
Well, there is, er...one person. My first wife, Audrey.
But I can assure you she doesn't hate me.
- She's behaved like an angel. - You're a very lucky man.
I can't say I liked the case against you,
but it would have stood up in court. Probably hanged you.
Sorry, I don't understand.
After you left her last night,
Lady Tressilian rang for her maid.
Then Barrett must have seen her... Alive and well.
What's more, before she went in to her mistress,
she saw you leaving the house.
But the niblick. My fingerprints.
She must've been killed with something else.
The club put there to throw suspicion on you, except,
of course, you're right-handed.
Are you sure there's no-one who'd like to see you hang?
We took Mr Strange across at ten-thirty last night.
And did you see him after that?
Did you see him after that?
No, sir, we didn't bring him back.
Have you come across a bloke called Latimer?
Edward Latimer, staying over at Easterhead.
Oh, yes, yes. Handsome young chap.
- Looks a bit foreign. - Could be him.
Didn't see him last night, sir,
though I did see him this morning.
He popped over first thing. Came back a few hours ago.
Waiter?
Nevile came over last night.
He was very down in the mouth over something.
Told me he'd had a row with Lady Tressilian.
And I know things have been a bit ropey with him and Kay.
He seemed quite glad to see me for once.
Couldn't find you at first, I understand.
Can't think why.
- I was here. - All the time, sir?
Well, I may have strolled out for a bit.
D'you know, there was a real stink here last night.
Strange noticed it too.
Drains, I suppose.
Or a dead rat under the floorboards.
So when Mr Strange had found you...
We played billiards, we had a drink or two,
then I drove him back.
He'd missed the ferry. I dropped him off around two-thirty.
Oh, just one more thing.
You popped over to Gull's Point this morning, didn't you?
- Yes. - Any particular reason?
To pay my respects.
Not that they've ever paid me any, but...
you like to do the right thing, don't you?
He's too pleased with himself, sir.
He's just the type who'd smash
his own granny's head if he'd get away with it.
Why would he do it, though? He doesn't stand to gain.
He's a bit fudgey about what he was up to
before Strange tracked him down.
I don't believe it!
Oh, Superintendent!Inspector! I'm so glad I've caught you.
You seem to pop up everywhere, Miss Marple.
Yes, I do, don't I?
I'd love to stay and chat, but we must get on.
I quite understand, Superintendent.
It's all very convenient, isn't it?
What is, Miss Marple?
The niblick and poor Barrett in a coma.
A little too convenient, perhaps.
It makes the culprit look rather foolish.
And if the culprit were, for the sake of argument, Mr Strange
he may be many things, but a fool he certainly isn't.
Gentlemen!
Miss Marple, we really don't have the time.
Oh...dear, something else.
Sir, we've got to go.
Knobs.
I beg your pardon?
The fender knobs in the bedroom next door to the bathroom.
I popped in this morning by mistake
and one of them seemed to be... different from the other.
Of course, it might have been my imagination, but, er...
Please, don't let me detain you.
You don't want to miss the boat, now, do you?
Gentlemen!
That's it! That's what she meant.
The left one is brighter than the right.
Check them out, Jones.
I'm worried, Thomas.
Really very worried.
- Mr Treves... - Why are you worrying about him?
I've been wondering.
That story he told about the child who shot the arrow...
why exactly he told it.
There's prints on the right-hand one, sir,
but none on the left.
Then this is the one we want.
Those prints'll be the maid's,
which means this one has been cleaned twice.
Look, sir.
Blood.
I've been trying to remember.
He told it so very deliberately
and he said he'd recognise the person,
as though he already had.
Why should he do that?
You don't think he knew
Camilla was going to be murdered, do you?
I don't think that's very likely.
A word, if I may. It won't take a minute.
You inherit, as I understand it,
half the late Sir Matthew's estate.
- Am I right, sir? - Yes, that's right.
- Who inherits the other half? - I told you, my wife.
Yes, but which one, Mr Strange?
Audrey, of course. She was my wife when the will was made.
The bequest is quite simply worded.
Our divorce makes no difference whatsoever.
l take it Mrs Audrey Strange is aware of this?
- Yes. - And the present Mrs Strange?
Kay? Well, I expect she is.
We've never really talked much about it.
I think you'll find, sir, that she's under the misapprehension
that the money comes to you and the present Mrs Strange.
- What the hell are you looking at? - I'm sorry.
Always lurking around!
I didn't know you were in here.
- Like a bad smell. - Come on, now.
Oh, she's got it down to a tee, that pathetic little look.
And Nevile's fallen for it hook, line and sinker!
No, Kay, That's not it.
Well, you won't get him!
And you won't get his money either!
You've got it all wrong.
I've got you bang on from the start!
You're a scheming little bitch,
and the sooner you get out of our lives, the better!
Audrey, no!
No, you don't.
What are you doing?
I was just... I was...
Oh, my poor darling.
There's nothing I want any more.
You're so unhappy, aren't you?
You're shivering.
Audrey, I understand.
I do understand.
Don't... No...no...
You'll always be mine...
till the day you die.
Donald! Donald, come here!
- Oh, dear, oh, dear. - Oh, Donald, you are naughty!
- Down! - He's very excited, isn't he?
I'm so sorry, Miss Marple.
He just seems to be getting worse and worse.
Simply honking, isn't he?
Oh, dear! Yes he does seem to be a bit...
You can smell him for miles.
I caught him bouncing on a dead fish down on the beach.
I'm sure you'd love that, wouldn't you, Donald?
Oh, he did.
He found it flat out amongst the rocks.
I tried washing him in the sea, but it didn't make a difference.
He needs a good soaping. Don't you, Donald?
Do you know, I smelt exactly the same thing
in the billiards room the other night?
Donald had run off again, naughty boy.
I looked simply everywhere for him.
When I popped into the billiards room, it hit me. Pooh!
But I still couldn't find him.
Which night was that, Miss Brinton?
Oh, I can't remember exactly,
but that nice Mr Latimer was there with the tennis player.
Swoon!
- The same smell, you say? - Oh, Donald, really!
Oh, Donald, behave!
Oh, I'm so sorry!
Good morning, ladies and gentlemen.
Thank you for gathering again. I realise it's inconvenience
to have a house full of policemen
when you're digesting your breakfast
but there are one or two things.
Who does this belong to?
Is it yours, Mrs Strange?
No, no, it isn't mine.
- Miss Aldin? - No, it's not my colour.
And it's certainly not mine.
Are you sure it isn't yours, Mrs Strange?
Perhaps you'd try it on.
She's already told you, Mallard, it isn't hers.
Snug fit.
Maybe it is mine.
- I'm always losing them. - It probably is yours.
I found it outside your window,
pushed into the ivy with its pair.
Look here, Superintendent...
Might I have a word?
We've been finding some very curious things, Mr Strange.
This, for instance...
..which consists, as you see, of a steel fender knob
screwed and taped into the handle of a tennis racquet.
Little doubt, I would surmise,
that this is what was used to kill Lady Tressilian.
Where on earth did you find that?
It looks like Audrey's old racquet.
The knob had been cleaned and put back on the fender,
but the murderer had neglected to clean the screw.
We found a trace of blood on that, Mr Strange.
In the same way, the handle and the tennis racquet
had been taped together again and thrown into a cupboard,
where they would doubtless have remained
If Detectlve Sergeant Jones
hadn't been looking for something of the kind.
Any fingerprints?
Just one - on the tape binding the racquet.
And of course you're not going to tell me whose print it is.
The jacket you wore at dinner on the night of the murder
had brown hairs on the collar.
They're mine, I suppose.
They were a lady's hairs, sir.
And red hairs on the sleeve.
I expect they'd be Kay's.
And the others...
Well, they might be Audrey's.
I caught my cufflink in her hair the other night.
In which case, the brown hairs would be on the cuff.
What exactly are you implying?
There's a trace of powder on the inside of the jacket collar
the same as used by Audrey Strange,
which suggests that, on some occasion, she must've worn it.
And then there are the gloves.
This is the left-hand one, stained with blood.
She is left-handed, isn't she?
To strike Lady Tressilian with the right hand
would have been very awkward,
the bed being where it was,
but for a left-handed person...
..no trouble at all.
Are you quite sure this little get-together
was your idea, sir?
If you're suggesting that Audrey killed Lady Tressilian
just to get her hands on the money...
I'm not suggesting anything of the sort.
From first to last, this crime has been
directed at you, Mr Strange.
Ever since you left her,
she's been brooding on how to get her revenge.
In the end, she decided to have you hanged for murder.
She chose an evening when you'd quarrelled with Tressilian,
wore your jacket so it would be stained with blood,
left your niblick in the room
knowing we'd find your prints on it.
But she couldn't account for ladyship ringing for Barrett,
which meant that Barrett saw you leaving the house.
It can't be true. I swear to God, it cannot be true.
Audrey's never borne a grudge against me.
You have the whole thing wrong.
He's right, Superintendent.
You see, I don't believe that Mr Strange
did leave Audrey at all.
But I rather think that she left him - for Adrlan Royde.
Isn't that so, Mr Strange?
When Audrey was taken in by the Royde family,
a great rivalry developed between the two boys.
But then she married Mr Strange
and that was an end to the matter.
Adrian, however, bided his time and finally made his move.
They planned to run away together.
Then Adrian was killed in a car accident.
That is the reason Audrey went to pieces.
Mr Strange behaved with the utmost chivalry.
He arranged that she should divorce him
and that he would take the blame.
I didn't know anyone knew.
One hears things...
sees things...gradually a picture forms.
So Audrey has no reason to hate Nevile Strange.
On the contrary, she has every reason to be grateful,
and when he arranged this visit,
she didn't feel she could refuse.
Audrey Strange, Superintendent, has no motive.
Motive's one thing, facts are another.
Facts showed that I was guilty not so long ago!
Am I being asked to believe
that there's someone who hates both you and Audrey Strange?
Someone who, should the plot against you fall,
have laid a trail that led directly to her?
Do you know of such a person, Mr Strange?
Do you, Miss Marple?
Superintendent...
..may I have a word, please?
In private.
You want me, don't you?
Mrs Strange, I have a warrant for your arrest
on the charge of murdering Camilla Tressilian
on Monday last, September 10th.
I must caution you that anything you say will be taken down
and may be used in evidence at your trial.
- It's almost a relief. - No, no, Audrey, say nothing.
But why not, Nevile? I'm glad it's over.
I always knew it was you! I knew you were up to something!
- Didn't I tell you, Nevile? - Kay, please!
- Shut up,for God's sake! - Why don't you look after her?
- I'm all right. - I should take you away from them.
- Let me come with you. - No, Nevile.
You stay.
Is there anything I can do, Audrey?
Dear Thomas.
I'd better call my solicitor.
Of course, Mr Strange,
but first, there's a little something I have in mind.
I feel a bit sick.
Deep breaths, Mrs Strange. Very good for nausea.
Well, ladies and gentlemen,
what a very odd case this has been.
One of the oddest I've ever known.
And in keeping with the pervading oddness,
I'd like to ask Miss Marple here to take the floor.
Mlss Marple...
Thank you, Superintendent.
What the hell is this? A Wl meeting?
The sooner you shut up, Mr Latimer,
the sooner we can get back.
I'll be as quick as I can, I assure you.
Poor Mr Treves, the night he died,
said something quite pertinent,
that detective stories usually begin with the murder itself,
but from his long career at the bar,
he'd observed that murder usually comes at the end.
Zero hour, he called it - - and it's zero hour now.
Lady Tressilian's death, you mean?
No, Miss Aldin, not Lady Tressilian's death.
I am talking of the murder of Audrey Strange.
You see, this is a crime that has long been planned
down to smallest detail with one object and one object only
that Audrey Strange should be hanged by neck until dead.
And very cunning it was too.
First, there was the faked evidence against Nevile Strange.
Which we were meant to see through.
Yes, indeed, and having been presented
with one lot of faked evidence...
..it wasn't thought likely we'd consider a second edition.
When you come to look at this,
all the evidence against Audrey Strange
could have been faked:
the weapon taken from her fireplace,
the gloves hidden in the ivy,
the prints found on the roll of tape taken from her room.
And then there was the way she behaved when she was arrested
Practically admitted her guilt, didn't she?
But if Audrey was the victim, why arrest her?
I have to do my duty, sir.
We have to act on the evidence,
and at the time there was no evidence to the contrary.
Until Miss Marple came along.
Quite by chance,
I was chatting to a fellow guest at the hotel,
a young lady by the name of Diana Brinton.
- The girl with that pesky little dog? - Yes.
- Yes, Donald. - Donald!
A pleasant young girl,
but possessed of rather a fanciful imagination.
She reads a lot of historical novels, you see.
She happened to mention seeing,
late one night - the night of the murder, in fact -
a figure on the other side of the bay.
A figure? What exactly do you mean?
A figure. A figure getting out of the water
and climbing a rope
which hung from a window up there.
Well, I, of course, thought nothing of it.
It was late at night,
she may have been half asleep and, as I say,
she has an active imagination.
But in the light of later events,
I began to think there might be some...
substance to what she'd said.
So it was an outsider after all.
Someone who came from the other side of the river, yes.
Someone who wasn't seen between ten-thirty
and a quarter-past eleven that night,
and who might've swum across and back... eh, Mr Latimer?
But I can't swim.
Everybody knows I can't swim. Kay, tell them.
- Oh, dear, Mr Latimer! - You pushed him!
She pushed him! Didn't anyone see?
Mm. He can't swim, can he?
We told you that! Teddy!
Jones.
He's going under!
Teddy!
Oh, Teddy!
Poor Teddy!
- See what you've done? - Are you all right, Mr Latimer?
Of course he's not! You might've killed him!
No chance of that, Mrs Strange.
Jones is highly proficient in the life-saving department.
And look on the bright side:
at least it's eliminated him from our enquiries.
And it can't have been Mr Royde climbing that rope
because of his arm -
which brings us to you, doesn't it, Mr Strange?
Are you seriously suggesting...
I swam across the river, climbed into the house,
killed Lady Tressilian and then swam back again?
Yes, we are.
Simply extraordinary! And what about the rope?
You left it there yourself before you caught the ferry.
So, in other words... I framed myself, did I?
I rather think you did.
Priceless!
Absolutely priceless!
And why the hell should I want to kill Camilla?
You didn't, but you did want to hang the woman
who'd left you for another man,
and the fact that it entailed killing a woman
who'd been like a mother to you
didn't seem to worry you in the least.
You're a bit unhinged, aren't you?
I'm not the one who's unhinged.
Have been ever since you were a kid.
I looked up that old bow-and-arrow case, see.
it was the same then.
Anyone who does you an injury has to be punished.
Flicked you on the raw, didn't it, when Audrey left you?
So you had to think up something special for her,
and what better than to get her hanged?
Pity you didn't have the brains to pull it off.
All that niblick stuff, powder on the collar,
hair on the cuffs.
We knew what you were up to all along.
Laughing into our sleeves, weren't we, Miss Marple?
I'm afraid it was all rather childish.
But you see, like so many murderers,
you thought you were being so clever,
when, in fact, you were being really rather stupid.
Stupid?
It was the perfect plan.
Worked out to the last detail,
and you never would have guessed it if you, Miss Marple,
weren't such an insufferable busybody!
Watch it, Strange!
And if that old fool Treves hadn't set you all thinking.
Because he recognised your long little finger,
didn't he, Mr Strange?
That's why you rushed to his hotel
and put the sign on the lift,
knowing full well the state of the poor man's heart.
He deserved it. And so does Audrey.
She deserves everything she's going to get.
How dare she run off and leave me!
Me!
For that miserable little bastard Adrian Royde!
She shall hang!
You've got to hang her!
And I want to be there to hear her lousy neck crack!
I was afraid of him as soon as we were married.
A word or a look.
But then I'd fancy I'd imagined it and that I was mad.
And so it was for years, until Adrian reappeared
and told me he still loved me,
and suddenly my world fell into place.
We were planning to run away together.
That's why he was down here - just a year ago.
But the day I went to meet him, he never came.
Killed in a crash.
And I can't help thinking Nevile had something to do with it
I think you might be right.
Nevile was very solicitous,
said no-one need know and that I could divorce him.
I felt so grateful, but I never felt I'd really escaped.
When he suggested we should all come down here,
I couldn't refuse.
The story Mr Treves told, the out-of-order sign on the lift,
even when Camilla was killed I didn't make the connection.
- When did you realise? - When he was cleared.
I saw him looking at me and I knew. And you, Miss Marple?
Oh, one thing, then another.
The smell in the hotel which that girl recognised
in the billiards room
when Mr Strange was here. It suddenly came to me:
perhaps he himself was the source of it,
and I could only think of one way
in which he would have come into contact with a dead fish.
He must be quite a strong swimmer
because he had very little time.
My theory was confirmed
when I saw a piece of wet rope in the boxroom.
Then after he'd got back into the house,
he put on his other suit,
took the weapon, which he'd fixed beforehand,
and made his way to Camilla's room.
But we won't go into that.
Then he slipped back out of his clothes, down the rope,
swam back here to meet Mr Latimer.
Then after Mr Latimer had driven him back,
he had all night to clear up his traces and set the scene.
Then, of course, there was the bell.
- The bell? - Mm. By Camilla's bed.
I nearly got it the morning after the murder,
when I saw a window pole and the bell-wires on the ceiling.
It was very, very clever of Mr Strange.
He rang the bell for Barrett from outside in the passage
after his row with Camilla,
so that when Barrett came down, she'd see him leave,
and thus he'd have his alibi.
Poor Camilla didn't know what she'd rung for
because she hadn't rung at all.
He struck her...back-handed, by the way.
His backhand was always his strong point.
- Good morning, Miss Marple. - Good morning.
Oh, Donald, come here!
Is that the girl who saw Nevile climbing the rope?
Yes, it is.
If it weren't for her... I must thank her.
No, no, my dear.
Don't move. I've...I've nearly finished.
It was raining, wasn't it, the night of the murder?
Yes, it was.
If you'd just, erm...
- She must have awfully good eyesight. - Mm, yes.
Perhaps she eats her carrots.
Miss Marple!
Well...
as the Superintendent says,
the police have to act on evidence,
so I thought I'd help them along a bit
by suggesting there was a witness.
Fortunately...Mr Strange's confession
has rendered that redundant.
So what you imagined, happened.
Do you have a gift for this sort of thing, Miss Marple?
You know, sometimes l think l do.
Miss Marple, would it spoil your sketch if I...?
No, no.
Of course not, my dear.
In fact...
..quite the contrary.