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a large house next door to the vicarage. Her informant was her little maid Clara.
    â€œA woman, you say, Clara? Found dead on Colonel Bantry’s hearthrug? ”
    â€œYes, mum. And they say, mum, as she hadn’t anything on at all, mum, not a stitch!”
    â€œThat will do, Clara. It is not necessary to go into details.”
    â€œNo, mum, and they say, mum, that at first they thought it was Mr. Blake’s young lady—what comes down for the weekends with ’im to Mr. Booker’s new ’ouse. But now they say it’s quite a different young lady. And the fishmonger’s young man, he says he’d never have believed it of Colonel Bantry—not with him handing round the plate on Sundays and all.”
    â€œThere is a lot of wickedness in the world, Clara,” said Mrs. Price Ridley. “Let this be a warning to you.”
    â€œYes, mum. Mother, she never will let me take a place where there’s a gentleman in the ’ouse.”
    â€œThat will do, Clara,” said Mrs. Price Ridley.
    III
    It was only a step from Mrs. Price Ridley’s house to the vicarage.
    Mrs. Price Ridley was fortunate enough to find the vicar in his study.
    The vicar, a gentle, middle-aged man, was always the last to hear anything.
    â€œSuch a terrible thing,” said Mrs. Price Ridley, panting a little, because she had come rather fast. “I felt I must have your advice, your counsel about it, dear vicar.”
    Mr. Clement looked mildly alarmed. He said:
    â€œHas anything happened?”
    â€œHas anything happened? ” Mrs. Price Ridley repeated the question dramatically. “The most terrible scandal! None of us had any idea of it. An abandoned woman, completely unclothed, strangled on Colonel Bantry’s hearthrug.”
    The vicar stared. He said:
    â€œYou—you are feeling quite well?”
    â€œNo wonder you can’t believe it! I couldn’t at first. The hypocrisy of the man! All these years!”
    â€œPlease tell me exactly what all this is about.”
    Mrs. Price Ridley plunged into a full-swing narrative. When she had finished Mr. Clement said mildly:
    â€œBut there is nothing, is there, to point to Colonel Bantry’s being involved in this?”
    â€œOh, dear vicar, you are so unworldly! But I must tell you a little story. Last Thursday—or was it the Thursday before? well, it doesn’t matter—I was going up to London by the cheap day train. Colonel Bantry was in the same carriage. He looked, I thought, very abstracted. And nearly the whole way he buried himself behind The Times. As though, you know, he didn’t want to talk. ”
    The vicar nodded with complete comprehension and possible sympathy.
    â€œAt Paddington I said good-bye. He had offered to get me a taxi, but I was taking the bus down to Oxford Street—but he got into one, and I distinctly heard him tell the driver to go to— where do you think? ”
    Mr. Clement looked inquiring.
    â€œAn address in St. John’s Wood! ”
    Mrs. Price Ridley paused triumphantly.
    The vicar remained completely unenlightened.
    â€œThat, I consider, proves it,” said Mrs. Price Ridley.
    IV
    At Gossington, Mrs. Bantry and Miss Marple were sitting in the drawing room.
    â€œYou know,” said Mrs. Bantry, “I can’t help feeling glad they’ve taken the body away. It’s not nice to have a body in one’s house.”
    Miss Marple nodded.
    â€œI know, dear. I know just how you feel.”
    â€œYou can’t,” said Mrs. Bantry; “not until you’ve had one. I know you had one next door once, but that’s not the same thing. I onlyhope,” she went on, “that Arthur won’t take a dislike to the library. We sit there so much. What are you doing, Jane?”
    For Miss Marple, with a glance at her watch, was rising to her feet. “Well, I was thinking I’d go home. If there’s nothing more I can do for