you hardly knew.'
'There are probably other ways of finding out,’ said Miss Marple. 'Oh yes, I think with time and patience, we can gather the information we want.'
'Anyway, we've got two possibilities,’ said Giles.
'We might, I think, infer a third,’ said Miss Marple. 'It would be, of course, a pure hypothesis, but justified, I think, by the turn of events.'
Gwenda and Giles looked at her in slight surprise.
'It is just an inference,’ said Miss Marple, turning a little pink. 'Helen Kennedy went out to India to marry young Fane. Admittedly she was not wildly in love with him, but she must have been fond of him, and quite prepared to spend her life with him. Yet as soon as she gets there, she breaks off the engagement and wires her brother to send her money to get home. Now why?'
'Changed her mind, I suppose,’ said Giles.
Both Miss Marple and Gwenda looked at him in mild contempt.
'Of course she changed her mind,’ said Gwenda. 'We know that. What Miss Marple means is—why?'
'I suppose girls do change their minds,’ said Giles vaguely. 'Under certain circumstances,’ said Miss Marple.
Her words held all the pointed innuendo that elderly ladies are able to achieve with the minimum of actual statement.
'Something he did—' Giles was suggesting vaguely, when Gwenda chipped in sharply. 'Of course,’ she said. 'Another man!'
She and Miss Marple looked at each other with the assurance of those admitted to a freemasonry from which men were excluded.
Gwenda added with certainty: 'On the boat! Going out!' 'Propinquity,’ said Miss Marple.
'Moonlight on the boat deck,’ said Gwenda. 'All that sort of thing. Only—it must have been serious—not just a flirtation.'
'Oh yes,’ said Miss Marple, 'I think it was serious.'
'If so, why didn't she marry the chap?' demanded Giles.
'Perhaps he didn't really care for her,’ Gwenda said slowly. Then shook her head. 'No, I think in that case she would still have married Walter Fane. Oh, of course, I'm being stupid. Married man.'
She looked triumphantly at Miss Marple.
'Exactly,’ said Miss Marple. 'That's how I should reconstruct it. They fell in love, probably desperately in love. But if he was a married man—with children, perhaps—and probably an honourable type—well, that would be the end of it.'
'Only she couldn't go on and marry Walter Fane,’ said Gwenda. 'So she wired her brother and went home. Yes, that all fits. And on the boat home, she met my father...'
She paused, thinking it out.
'Not wildly in love,’ she said. 'But attracted... and then there was me. They were both unhappy... and they consoled each other. My father told her about my mother, and perhaps she told him about the other man... Yes—of course—' She flicked over the pages of the diary.
'I knew there was someone—she said as much to me on the boat—someone she loved and couldn't marry.'
'Yes—that's it. Helen and my father felt they were alike—and there was me to be looked after, and she thought she could make him happy—and she even thought, perhaps, that she'd be quite happy herself in the end.'
She stopped, nodded violently at Miss Marple, and said brightly: 'That's it.'
Giles was looking exasperated.
'Really, Gwenda, you make a whole lot of things up and pretend that they actually happened.'
'They did happen. They must have happened. And that gives us a third person for X.' 'You mean—?'
'The married man. We don't know what he was like. He mayn't have been nice at all. He may have been a little mad. He may have followed her here—'
'You've just placed him as going out to India.'
'Well, people can come back from India, can't they? Walter Fane did. It was nearly a year later. I don't say this man did come back, but I say he's a possibility. You keep harping on who the men were in her life. Well, we've got three of them. Walter Fane, and some young man whose name we don't know, and a married man—'
'Whom we don't know exists,' finished Giles.
'We'll
'There are probably other ways of finding out,’ said Miss Marple. 'Oh yes, I think with time and patience, we can gather the information we want.'
'Anyway, we've got two possibilities,’ said Giles.
'We might, I think, infer a third,’ said Miss Marple. 'It would be, of course, a pure hypothesis, but justified, I think, by the turn of events.'
Gwenda and Giles looked at her in slight surprise.
'It is just an inference,’ said Miss Marple, turning a little pink. 'Helen Kennedy went out to India to marry young Fane. Admittedly she was not wildly in love with him, but she must have been fond of him, and quite prepared to spend her life with him. Yet as soon as she gets there, she breaks off the engagement and wires her brother to send her money to get home. Now why?'
'Changed her mind, I suppose,’ said Giles.
Both Miss Marple and Gwenda looked at him in mild contempt.
'Of course she changed her mind,’ said Gwenda. 'We know that. What Miss Marple means is—why?'
'I suppose girls do change their minds,’ said Giles vaguely. 'Under certain circumstances,’ said Miss Marple.
Her words held all the pointed innuendo that elderly ladies are able to achieve with the minimum of actual statement.
'Something he did—' Giles was suggesting vaguely, when Gwenda chipped in sharply. 'Of course,’ she said. 'Another man!'
She and Miss Marple looked at each other with the assurance of those admitted to a freemasonry from which men were excluded.
Gwenda added with certainty: 'On the boat! Going out!' 'Propinquity,’ said Miss Marple.
'Moonlight on the boat deck,’ said Gwenda. 'All that sort of thing. Only—it must have been serious—not just a flirtation.'
'Oh yes,’ said Miss Marple, 'I think it was serious.'
'If so, why didn't she marry the chap?' demanded Giles.
'Perhaps he didn't really care for her,’ Gwenda said slowly. Then shook her head. 'No, I think in that case she would still have married Walter Fane. Oh, of course, I'm being stupid. Married man.'
She looked triumphantly at Miss Marple.
'Exactly,’ said Miss Marple. 'That's how I should reconstruct it. They fell in love, probably desperately in love. But if he was a married man—with children, perhaps—and probably an honourable type—well, that would be the end of it.'
'Only she couldn't go on and marry Walter Fane,’ said Gwenda. 'So she wired her brother and went home. Yes, that all fits. And on the boat home, she met my father...'
She paused, thinking it out.
'Not wildly in love,’ she said. 'But attracted... and then there was me. They were both unhappy... and they consoled each other. My father told her about my mother, and perhaps she told him about the other man... Yes—of course—' She flicked over the pages of the diary.
'I knew there was someone—she said as much to me on the boat—someone she loved and couldn't marry.'
'Yes—that's it. Helen and my father felt they were alike—and there was me to be looked after, and she thought she could make him happy—and she even thought, perhaps, that she'd be quite happy herself in the end.'
She stopped, nodded violently at Miss Marple, and said brightly: 'That's it.'
Giles was looking exasperated.
'Really, Gwenda, you make a whole lot of things up and pretend that they actually happened.'
'They did happen. They must have happened. And that gives us a third person for X.' 'You mean—?'
'The married man. We don't know what he was like. He mayn't have been nice at all. He may have been a little mad. He may have followed her here—'
'You've just placed him as going out to India.'
'Well, people can come back from India, can't they? Walter Fane did. It was nearly a year later. I don't say this man did come back, but I say he's a possibility. You keep harping on who the men were in her life. Well, we've got three of them. Walter Fane, and some young man whose name we don't know, and a married man—'
'Whom we don't know exists,' finished Giles.
'We'll
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