Read They Do It With Mirrors for Free Online Page B

herbaceous plants, clipped box-hedges surrounding a formal rose garden. Now all was largely derelict, the lawns raggedly mown, the borders full of weeds with tangled flowers struggling through them, the paths moss-covered and neglected. The kitchen gardens on the other hand, enclosed by red brick walls, were prosperous and well stocked. That, presumably, was because they had a utility value. So, also, a large portion of what had once been lawn and flower garden, was now fenced off and laid out in tennis courts and a bowling green.
    Surveying the herbaceous border, Miss Marple clicked her tongue vexedly and pulled up a flourishing plant of groundsel.
    As she stood with it in her hand, Edgar Lawson came into view. Seeing Miss Marple, he stopped and hesitated. Miss Marple had nomind to let him escape. She called him briskly. When he came she asked him if he knew where any gardening tools were kept.
    Edgar said vaguely that there was a gardener somewhere who would know.
    â€œIt’s such a pity to see this border so neglected,” twittered Miss Marple. “I’m so fond of gardens.” And since it was not her intention that Edgar should go in search of any necessary implement she went on quickly:
    â€œIt’s about all an old and useless woman can find to do. Now I don’t suppose you ever bother your head about gardens, Mr. Lawson. You have so much real and important work to do. Being in a responsible position here, with Mr. Serrocold. You must find it all most interesting.”
    He answered quickly, almost eagerly:
    â€œYes—yes—it is interesting.”
    â€œAnd you must be of the greatest assistance to Mr. Serrocold.”
    His face darkened.
    â€œI don’t know. I can’t be sure. It’s what’s behind it all—”
    He broke off. Miss Marple watched him thoughtfully. A pathetic undersized young man, in a neat dark suit. A young man that few people would look at twice, or remember if they did look….
    There was a garden seat nearby and Miss Marple drifted towards it and sat. Edgar stood frowning in front of her.
    â€œI’m sure,” said Miss Marple brightly, “that Mr. Serrocold relies on you a great deal.”
    â€œI don’t know,” said Edgar. “I really don’t know.” He frowned and almost absently sat down beside her. “I’m in a very difficult position.”
    â€œYes?” said Miss Marple.
    The young man Edgar sat staring in front of him.
    â€œThis is all highly confidential,” he said suddenly.
    â€œOf course,” said Miss Marple.
    â€œIf I had my rights—”
    â€œYes?”
    â€œI might as well tell you … you won’t let it go any further I’m sure?”
    â€œOh no.” She noticed he did not wait for her disclaimer.
    â€œMy father—actually, my father is a very important man.”
    This time there was no need to say anything. She had only to listen.
    â€œNobody knows except Mr. Serrocold. You see, it might prejudice my father’s position if the story got out.” He turned to her. He smiled. A sad, dignified smile. “You see, I’m Winston Churchill’s son. ”
    â€œOh,” said Miss Marple. “I see. ”
    And she did see. She remembered a rather sad story in St. Mary Mead—and the way it had gone.
    Edgar Lawson went on, and what he said had the familiarity of a stage scene.
    â€œThere were reasons. My mother wasn’t free. Her own husband was in an asylum—there could be no divorce—no question of marriage. I don’t really blame them. At least, I think I don’t … He’s done, always, everything he could. Discreetly, of course. And that’s where the trouble has arisen. He’s got enemies—and they’re against me, too. They’ve managed to keep us apart. They watch me. Wherever I go, they spy on me. And they make things go wrong for me.”
    Miss Marple shook her head.
    â€œDear,