‘Why no, I don’t think so.’ Mr Gardener spoke with a slow drawl. ‘Mrs Marshall was around with young Redfern most of the time-but everybody can tell you that.’ 

‘What about her husband? Did he mind, do you think?’

Mr Gardener said cautiously:

‘Captain Marshall is a very reserved man.’

Mrs Gardener confirmed this by saying:

‘Why, yes, he is a real Britisher!’

On the slightly apoplectic countenance of Major Barry various emotions seemed contending for mastery. He was endeavouring to look properly horrified but could not subdue a kind of shamefaced gusto.

He was saying in his hoarse, slightly wheezy voice:

‘Glad to help you any way I can. ’Course I don’t know anythin’ about it-nothin’ at all. Not acquainted with the parties. But I’ve knocked about a bit in my time. Lived a lot in the East, you know. And I can tell you that after being in an Indian hill station what you don’t know about human nature isn’t worth knowin’.’

He paused, took a breath and was off again.

‘Matter of fact this business reminds me of a case in Simla. Fellow called Robinson, or was it Falconer? Anyway he was in the East Wilts, or was it the North Surreys? Can’t remember now, and anyway it doesn’t matter. Quiet chap, you know, great reader-mild as milk you’d have said. Went for his wife one evening in their bungalow. Got her by the throat. She’d been carryin’ on with some feller or other and he’d got wise to it. By Jove, he nearly did for her! It was touch and go. Surprised us all! Didn’t think he had it in him.’

Hercule Poirot murmured:

‘And you see there an analogy to the death of Mrs Marshall?’

‘Well, what I mean to say-strangled, you know. Same idea. Feller suddenly sees red!’

Poirot said:

‘You think that Captain Marshall felt like that?’

‘Oh, look here, I never said that.’ Major Barry’s face went even redder. ‘Never said anything about Marshall. Thoroughly nice chap. Wouldn’t say a word against him for the world.’

Poirot murmured:

‘Ah,pardon, but youdid refer to the natural reactions of a husband.’

Major Barry said:

‘Well, I mean to say, I should think she’d been pretty hot stuff. Eh? Got young Redfern on a string all right. And there were probably others before him. But the funny thing is, you know, that husbands are a dense lot. Amazin’. I’ve been surprised by it again and again. They see a feller sweet on their wife but they don’t see thatshe’s sweet onhim! Remember a case like that in Poona. Very pretty woman, Jove, she led her husband a dance-’

Colonel Weston stirred a little restively. He said:

‘Yes, yes, Major Barry. For the moment we’ve just got to establish the facts. You don’t know of anything personally-that you’ve seen or noticed that might help us in this case?’

‘Well, really, Weston, I can’t say I do. Saw her and young Redfern one afternoon on Gull Cove’-here he winked knowingly and gave a deep hoarse chuckle-‘very pretty it was, too. But it’s not evidence of that kind you’re wanting. Ha, ha!’

‘You did not see Mrs Marshall at all this morning?’

‘Didn’t see anybody this morning. Went over to St Loo. Just my luck. Sort of place here where nothin’ happens for months and when it does you miss it!’

The Major’s voice held a ghoulish regret.

Colonel Weston prompted him.

‘You went to St Loo, you say?’

‘Yes, wanted to do some telephonin’. No telephone here and that post-office place at Leathercombe Bay isn’t very private.’

‘Were your telephone calls of a very private nature?’

The Major winked again cheerfully.

‘Well, they were and they weren’t. Wanted to get through to a pal of mine and get him to put somethin’ on a horse. Couldn’t get through to him, worse luck.’ 

‘Where did you telephone from?’

‘Call box in the G.P.O. at St Loo. Then on the way back I got lost-these confounded lanes-twistin’ and turnin’ all over the place. Must have wasted an hour over that at least. Damned confusing part of the world. I only got back half an hour ago.’

Colonel Weston said:

‘Speak to anyone or meet anyone in St Loo?’

Major Barry said with a chuckle:

‘Wantin’ me to prove an alibi? Can’t think of anythin’ useful. Saw about fifty thousand people in St Loo-but that’s not to say they’ll remember seein’ me.’

The Chief Constable said:

‘We have to ask these things, you know.’

‘Right you are. Call on me at any time. Glad to help you. Very fetchin’ woman, the deceased. Like to help you catch the feller who did it. The Lonely Beach Murder-bet you that’s what the papers will call it. Reminds me of the time-’

It was Inspector Colgate who firmly nipped this latest reminiscence in the bud and manoeuvred the garrulous Major out of the door.

Coming back he said:

‘Difficult to check up on anything in St Loo. It’s the middle of the holiday season.’

The Chief Constable said:

‘Yes, we can’t take him off the list. Not that I seriously believe he’s implicated. Dozens of old bores like him going about. Remember one or two of them in my army days. Still-he’s a possibility. I leave all that to you, Colgate. Check what time he took the car out-petrol-all that. It’s humanly possible that he parked the car somewhere in a lonely spot, walked back here and went to the cove. But it doesn’t seem feasible to me. He’d have run too much risk of being seen.’

Colgate nodded.

He said:

‘Of course there are a good many charabancs here today. Fine day. They start arriving round about half-past eleven. High tide was at seven. Low tide would be about one o’clock. People would be spread out over the sands and the causeway.’

Weston said:

‘Yes. But he’d have to come up from the causeway past the hotel.’

‘Not right past it. He could branch off on the path that leads up over the top of the island.’

Weston said doubtfully:

‘I’m not saying that he mightn’t have done it without being seen. Practically all the hotel guests were on the bathing beach except for Mrs Redfern and the Marshall girl who were down in Gull Cove, and the beginning of that path would only be overlooked by a few rooms of the hotel and there are plenty of chances against anyone looking out of those windows just at that moment. For the matter of that, I dare say it’s possible for a man to walk up to the hotel, through the lounge and out again without anyone happening to see him. But what I say is, he couldn’tcount on no one seeing him.’

Colgate said:

‘He could have gone round to the cove by boat.’

Weston nodded. He said:

‘That’s much sounder. If he’d had a boat handy in one of the coves nearby, he could have left the car, rowed or sailed to Pixy Cove, done the murder, rowed back, picked up the car and arrived back with this tale about having been to St Loo and lost his way-a story that he’d know would be pretty hard to disprove.’

‘You’re right, sir.’

The Chief Constable said:

‘Well, I leave it to you, Colgate. Comb the neighbourhood thoroughly. You know what to do. We’d better see Miss Brewster now.’

Emily Brewster was not able to add anything of material value to what they already knew.

Weston said after she had repeated her story:

‘And there’s nothing you know of that could help us in any way?’

Emily Brewster said shortly:

‘Afraid not. It’s a distressing business. However, I expect you’ll soon get to the bottom of it.’

Weston said:

‘I hope so, I’m sure.’

Emily Brewster said dryly:

‘Ought not to be difficult.’

‘Now what do you mean by that, Miss Brewster?’

‘Sorry. Wasn’t attempting to teach you your business. All I meant was that with a woman of that kind it ought to be easy enough.’

Hercule Poirot murmured:

‘That is your opinion?’

Emily Brewster snapped out:

‘Of course.De mortuis nil nisi bonum and all that, but you can’t get away fromfacts. That woman was a bad lot through and through. You’ve only got to hunt round a bit in her unsavoury past.’

Hercule Poirot said gently: 

‘You did not like her?’

‘I know a bit too much about her.’ In answer to the inquiring looks she went on: ‘My first cousin married one of the Erskines. You’ve probably heard that that woman induced old Sir Robert when he was in his dotage to leave most of his fortune to her away from his own family.’

Colonel Weston said:

‘And the family-er-resented that?’

‘Naturally. His association with her was a scandal anyway, and on top of that, to leave her a sum like fifty thousand pounds shows just the kind of woman she was. I dare say I sound hard, but in my opinion the Arlena Stuarts of this world deserve very little sympathy. I know of something else too-a young fellow who lost his head about her completely-he’d always been a bit wild, naturally his association with her pushed him over the edge. He did something rather fishy with some shares-solely to get money to spend on her-and only just managed to escape prosecution. That woman contaminated everyone she met. Look at the way she was ruining young Redfern. No, I’m afraid I can’t have any regret for her death-though of course it would have been better if she’d drowned herself, or fallen over a cliff. Strangling is rather unpleasant.’

‘And you think the murderer was someone out of her past?’ 

‘Yes, I do.’

‘Someone who came from the mainland with no one seeing him?’

‘Why should any one see him? We were all on the beach. I gather the Marshall child and Christine Redfern were down on Gull Cove out of the way. Captain Marshall was in his room in the hotel. Then who on earth was there to see him except possibly Miss Darnley.’

‘Where was Miss Darnley?’

‘Sitting up on the cutting at the top of the cliff. Sunny Ledge it’s called. We saw her there, Mr Redfern and I, when we were rowing round the island.’

Colonel Weston said:

‘You may be right, Miss Brewster.’

Emily Brewster said positively:

‘I’m sure I’m right. When a woman’s neither more nor less than a nasty mess, then she herself will provide the best possible clue. Don’t you agree with me, M. Poirot?’