The Mirror Crack'd: from Side to Side Read Online Free PDF Page A

foolish, you know. Not in villages.”
    Mrs. Bantry shot her a quick look. “You’ve always stuck to that, Jane. And I won’t say that you’re not right.”
    She suddenly smiled.
    â€œMarina Gregg asked me, very sweetly and delicately, if Iwouldn’t find it very painful to see my old home occupied by strangers. I assured her that it wouldn’t hurt me at all. I don’t think she quite believed me. But after all, as you know, Jane, Gossington wasn’t our home. We weren’t brought up there as children—that’s what really counts. It was just a house with a nice bit of shooting and fishing attached, that we bought when Arthur retired. We thought of it, I remember, as a house that would be nice and easy to run! How we can ever have thought that, I can’t imagine! All those staircases and passages. Only four servants! Only! Those were the days, ha ha!” She added suddenly: “What’s all this about your falling down? That Knight woman ought not to let you go out by yourself.”
    â€œIt wasn’t poor Miss Knight’s fault. I gave her a lot of shopping to do and then I—”
    â€œDeliberately gave her the slip? I see. Well, you shouldn’t do it, Jane. Not at your age.”
    â€œHow did you hear about it?”
    Mrs. Bantry grinned.
    â€œYou can’t keep any secrets in St. Mary Mead. You’ve often told me so. Mrs. Meavy told me.”
    â€œMrs. Meavy?” Miss Marple looked at sea.
    â€œShe comes in daily. She’s from the Development.”
    â€œOh, the Development.” The usual pause happened.
    â€œWhat were you doing in the Development?” asked Mrs. Bantry, curiously.
    â€œI just wanted to see it. To see what the people were like.”
    â€œAnd what did you think they were like?”
    â€œJust the same as everyone else. I don’t quite know if that was disappointing or reassuring.”
    â€œDisappointing, I should think.”
    â€œNo. I think it’s reassuring. It makes you—well—recognize certain types—so that when anything occurs—one will understand quite well why and for what reason.”
    â€œMurder, do you mean?”
    Miss Marple looked shocked.
    â€œI don’t know why you should assume that I think of murder all the time.”
    â€œNonsense, Jane. Why don’t you come out boldly and call yourself a criminologist and have done with it?”
    â€œBecause I am nothing of the sort,” said Miss Marple with spirit. “It is simply that I have a certain knowledge of human nature—that is only natural after having lived in a small village all my life.”
    â€œYou probably have something there,” said Mrs. Bantry thoughtfully, “though most people wouldn’t agree, of course. Your nephew Raymond always used to say this place was a complete backwater.”
    â€œDear Raymond,” said Miss Marple indulgently. She added: “He’s always been so kind. He’s paying for Miss Knight, you know.”
    The thought of Miss Knight induced a new train of thought and she arose and said: “I’d better be going back now, I suppose.”
    â€œYou didn’t walk all the way here, did you?”
    â€œOf course not. I came in Inch.”
    This somewhat enigmatic pronouncement was received with complete understanding. In days very long past, Mr. Inch had been the proprietor of two cabs, which met trains at the local station and which were also hired by the local ladies to take them “calling,” out to tea parties, and occasionally, with their daughters, to such frivolous entertainments as dances. In the fulness of time Inch, a cheery red-faced man of seventy odd, gave place to his son—known as “young Inch” (he was then aged forty-five) thoughold Inch still continued to drive such elderly ladies as considered his son too young and irresponsible. To keep up with the times, young Inch abandoned horse