Edward interrupted excitedly, 'I say, that's an idea. What about the library? '

But Charmian shook a scornful head. 'Do you think I hadn't thought of that? I went through all the books Tuesday of last week, when you went off to Portsmouth. Took them all out, shook them. Nothing there.'

Edward sighed. Then, rousing himself, he endeavoured to rid himself tactfully of their disappointing guest. 'It's been awfully good of you to come down as you have and try to help us. Sorry it's been all a washout. Feel we trespassed a lot on your time. However - I'll get the car out and you'll be able to catch the three-thirty -'

'Oh,' said Miss Marple, 'but we've got to find the money, haven't we? You mustn't give up, Mr. Rossiter. 'If at first you don't succeed, try, try, try again.' '

'You mean you're going to go - on trying? '

'Strictly speaking,' said Miss Marple, 'I haven't begun yet. 'First catch your hare,' as Mrs. Beeton says in her cookery book - a wonderful book but terribly expensive; most of the recipes begin, 'Take a quart of cream and a dozen eggs.' Let me see, where was I? Oh, yes. Well, we have, so to speak, caught our hare - the hare being, of course, your Uncle Mathew, and we've only got to decide now where he would have hidden the money. It ought to be quite simple.'

'Simple?' demanded Charmian.

'Oh yes, dear. I'm sure he would have done the obvious thing. A secret drawer - that's my solution.'

Edward said dryly, 'You couldn't put bars of gold in a secret drawer.'

'No, no, of course not. But there's no reason to believe the money is in gold.'

'He always used to say -'

'So did my Uncle Henry about his safe! So I should strongly suspect that that was just a simple blind. Diamonds, now they could be in a secret drawer quite easily.'

'But we've looked in all the secret drawers. We had a cabinet-maker over to examine the furniture.'

'Did you, dear? That was clever of you. I should suggest your uncle's own desk would be the most likely. Was it the tall escritoire against the wall there? '

'Yes. And I'll show you.' Charmian went over to it. She took down the flap. Inside were pigeon-holes and little drawers. She opened a small door in the centre and touched a spring inside the left-hand drawer. The bottom of the centre recess clicked and skid forward. Charmian drew it out, revealing a shallow well beneath. It was empty.

'Now isn't that a coincidence,' exclaimed Miss Marple. 'Uncle Henry had a desk just like this, only his was burr walnut and this is mahogany.'

'At any rate, 'said Charmian, 'there's no thing there, as you can see.'

'I expect,' said Miss Marple, 'your cabinetmaker was a young man. He didn't know everything. People were very artful when they made hiding places in those days. There's such a thing as a secret inside a secret.'

She extracted a hairpin from her neat bun of grey hair. Straightening it out, she stuck the point into what appeared to be a tiny wormhole in one side of the secret recess. With a little difficulty she pulled out a small drawer. In it was a bundle of faded letters and a folded paper.

Edward and Charmian pounced on the find together. With trembling fingers Edward unfolded the paper. He dropped it with an exclamation of disgust.

'A cookery recipe. Baked ham!'

Charmian was untying a ribbon that held the letters together. She drew one out and glanced at it. 'Love letters!'

Miss Marple reacted with Victorian gusto. 'How interesting! Perhaps the reason your uncle never married.'

Charmian read aloud:

'My ever dear Mathew, I must confess that the time seems long indeed since I received your last letter. I try to occupy myself with the various tasks allotted to me, and often say to myself that I am indeed fortunate to see so much of the globe, though little did I think when I went to America that I should voyage off to these far islands!'

Charmian broke off. 'Where is it from? Oh, Hawaii!' She went on:

'Alas, these natives are still far from seeing the light. They are in an unclothed and savage state and spend most of their time swimming and dancing, adorning themselves with garlands of flowers. Mr. Gray has made some converts but it is uphill work and he and Mrs. Gray get sadly discouraged. I try to do all I can to cheer and encourage him, but I, too, am often sad for a reason you can guess, dear Mathew. Alas, absence is a severe trial to a loving heart. Your renewed vows and protestations of affection cheered me greatly. Now and always you have my faithful and devoted heart, dear Mathew, and I remain - Your true love, Betty Martin.'

'P.S. - I address my letter under cover to our mutual friend, Matilda Graves, as usual. I hope Heaven will pardon this little subterfuge.'

Edward whistled. 'A female missionary! So that was Uncle Mathew's romance. I wonder why they never married?'

'She seems to have gone all over the world,' said Charmian, looking through the letters. 'Mauritius - all sorts of places. Probably died of yellow fever or something.'

A gentle chuckle made them start. Miss Marple was apparently much amused. 'Well, well,' she said. 'Fancy that, now.'

She was reading the recipe for baked ham. Seeing their inquiring glances, she read out. ' 'Baked Ham with Spinach. Take

a nice piece of gammon, stuff with cloves and cover with brown sugar. Bake in a slow oven. Serve with a border of pureed spinach.'

'What do you think of that now? '

'I think it sounds filthy,' said Edward.

'No, no, actually it would be very good - but what do you think of the whole thing? '

A sudden ray of light illuminated Edward's face. 'Do you think it's a code - cryptogram of some kind? ' He seized it.

'Look here, Charmian, it might be, you know! No reason to put a cooking recipe in a secret drawer otherwise.'

'Exactly,' said Miss Marple. 'Very, very significant.'

Charmian said, 'I know what it might be - invisible ink! Let's heat it. Turn on the electric fire.'

Edward did so. But no signs of writing appeared under the treatment.

Miss Marple coughed. 'I really think, you know, that you're making it rather too difficult. The recipe is only an indication, so to speak. It is, I think, the letters that are significant.'

'The letters?'

'Especially,' said Miss Marple, 'the signature.'

But Edward hardly heard her. He called excitedly, 'Charmian! Come here! She's right. See - the envelopes are old right enough, but the letters themselves were written much later.'

'Exactly,' said Miss Marple.

'There're only fake old. I bet anything old Uncle Mat faked them himself -'

'Precisely,' said Miss Marple.

'The whole thing's a sell. There never was a female missionary. It must be a code.'

'My dear, dear children - there's really no need to make it all so difficult. Your uncle was really a very simple man. He had to have his little joke, that was all.'

For the first time they gave her their full attention. 'Just exactly what do you mean, Miss Marple? ' asked Charmian.

'I mean, dear, that you' re actually holding the money in your hand this minute.'

Charmian stared down.

'The signature, dear. That gives the whole thing away. The recipe is just an indication. Shorn of all the cloves and brown sugar and the rest of it, what is it actually? Why, gammon and spinach to be sure! Gammon and spinach! Meaning - nonsense! So it's clear that it's the letters that are important. And then, if you take into consideration what your uncle did just before he died. He tapped his eye, you said. Well, there you are - that gives you the clue, you see.'

Charmian said, 'Are we mad, or are you? '

'Surely, my dear, you must have heard the expression meaning that something is not a true picture, or has it quite died out nowadays: 'All my eye and Betty Martin.' '

Edward gasped, his eyes falling to the letter in his hand. 'Betty Martin -'