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Mr Rafiel, she re about that, or she had—oh, dear, what a s hen you tried to remember with any kind of exactitude Esther Walters It had hit her badly, that business in the Caribbean, but she would have got over it She’d been a , hadn’t she? Miss Marple hoped that Esther Walters had ain, some nice, kindly, reliable ht, had had rather a genius for liking the wrong kind of men to marry

Miss Marple went back to thinking about Mr Rafiel No flowers, it had said Not that she herself would have drea flowers to Mr Rafiel He could buy up all the nurseries in England if he’d wanted to And anyway, they hadn’t been on those terms They hadn’t been—friends, or on terms of affection They had been—as the word she wanted?—allies Yes, they had been allies for a very short ti She had known so She’d known it as she had gone running through a dark, tropical night in the Caribbean and had co that pink hat used they to call the?—a fascinator That nice pink wool kind of shawl-scarf that she’d put round her head, and he had looked at her and laughed, and later when she had said—she shed, but he hadn’t laughed in the end No, he’d done what she asked hihed, it had been, she had to ad And she’d never told her nephew or dear Joan about it because, after all, it hat they’d told her not to do, wasn’t it? Miss Marple nodded her head Then she murmured softly,

“Poor Mr Rafiel, I hope he didn’t—suffer”

Probably not Probably he’d been kept by expensive doctors under sedatives, easing the end He had suffered a great deal in those weeks in the Caribbean He’d nearly always been in pain A brave man

A brave h he’d been elderly and an invalid and ill, the world had lost so She had no idea what he could have been like in business Ruthless, she thought, and rude and overood friend, she thought And somewhere in him a deep kind of kindness that he was very careful never to show on the surface A one and she hoped he hadn’thad been easy And noould be cree, handsome marble vault She didn’t even know if he’d been married He had never mentioned a wife, never mentioned children A lonely man? Or had his life been so full that he hadn’t needed to feel lonely? She wondered

She sat there quite a long ti about Mr Rafiel She had never expected to see hiland and she never had seen hiain Yet in some queer way she could at any moment have felt she was in touch with hiain, feeling perhaps a bond because of a life that had been saved between them, or of some other bond A bond—

“Surely,” said Miss Marple, aghast at an idea that had come into her mind, “there can’t be a bond of ruthlessness between us?” Was she, Jane Marple—could she ever be—ruthless? “D’you know,” said Miss Marple to herself, “it’s extraordinary, I never thought about it before I believe, you know, I could be ruthless…”

The door opened and a dark, curly head was popped in It was Cherry, the welcoht

“Did you say so?” said Cherry

“I was speaking to myself,” said Miss Marple, “I just wondered if I could ever be ruthless”

“What, you?” said Cherry “Never! You’re kindness itself”

“All the same,” said Miss Marple, “I believe I could be ruthless if there was due cause”

“What would you call due cause?”

“In the cause of justice,” said Miss Marple

“You did have it in for little Gary Hopkins Ihis cat that day Never knew you had it in you to go for anyone like that! Scared hiotten it”

“I hope he hasn’t tortured anymore cats”

“Well, he’s made sure you weren’t about if he did,” said Cherry “In fact I’ot scared Seeing you with your wool and the pretty things you knits and all that—anyone would think you were gentle as a lamb But there’s tioaded into it”

Miss Marple looked a little doubtful She could not quite see herself in the r

ôle in which Cherry was now casting her Had she ever—she paused on the reflection, recalling various moht (Really, she et names in this way) But her irritation had shown itself in more or less ironical re ironical about a lion It sprang It roared It used its claws, presue bites at its prey

“Really,” said Miss Marple, “I don’t think I have ever behaved quite like that”

Walking slowly along her garden that evening with the usual feelings of vexation rising in her, Miss Marple considered the point again Possibly the sight of a plant of snapdragons recalled it to her ain that she only wanted sulphur-coloured antirrhinuardeners always seemed so fond of “Sulphur yellow,” said Miss Marple aloud

So that abutted on the lane past her house turned her head and spoke

“I beg your pardon? You said so?”

“I was talking toto look over the railing

This was someone she did not know, and she knew ht even if not personally It was a thickset woood country shoes She wore an emerald pullover and a knitted woollen scarf

“I’e,” added Miss Marple

“Nice garden you’ve got here,” said the other woman