AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘He snatched it up and looked so scared that I began to think. Harry Laxton didn’t drug; he was in perfect health; what was he doing with a hypodermic syringe? I did the autopsy with a view to certain possibilities. I found strophanthin. The rest was easy. There was strophanthin in Laxton’s possession, and Bella Edge, questioned by the police, broke down and admitted to having got it for him. And finally old Mrs Murgatroyd confessed that it was Harry Laxton who had put her up to the cursing stunt.’
‘And your niece got over it?’
‘Yes, she was attracted by the fellow, but it hadn’t gone far.’
The doctor picked up his manuscript. ‘Full marks to you, Miss Marple – and full marks to me for my prescription. You’re looking almost yourself again.’
Chapter 52
The Case of the Perfect Maid
‘The Case of the Perfect Maid’ was first published as ‘The Perfect Maid’ in Strand Magazine, April 1942, and then in the USA as ‘The Maid Who Disappeared’ in the Chicago Sunday Tribune, 13 September 1942.
‘Oh, if you please, madam, could I speak to you a moment?’
It might be thought that this request was in the nature of an absurdity, since Edna, Miss Marple’s little maid, was actually speaking to her mistress at the moment.
Recognizing the idiom, however, Miss Marple said promptly, ‘Certainly, Edna, come in and shut the door. What is it?’
Obediently shutting the door, Edna advanced into the room, pleated the corner of her apron between her fingers, and swallowed once or twice.
‘Yes, Edna?’ said Miss Marple encouragingly.
‘Oh, please, ma’am, it’s my cousin, Gladdie.’
‘Dear me,’ said Miss Marple, her mind leaping to the worst – and, alas, the most usual conclusion. ‘Not – not in trouble?’
Edna hastened to reassure her. ‘Oh, no, ma’am, nothing of that kind. Gladdie’s not that kind of girl. It’s just that she’s upset. You see, she’s lost her place.’
‘Dear me, I am sorry to hear that. She was at Old Hall, wasn’t she, with the Miss – Misses – Skinner?’
‘Yes, ma’am, that’s right, ma’am. And Gladdie’s very upset about it – very upset indeed.’
‘Gladys has changed places rather often before, though, hasn’t she?’
‘Oh, yes, ma’am. She’s always one for a change, Gladdie is. She never seems to get really settled, if you know what I mean. But she’s always been the one to give the notice, you see!’
‘And this time it’s the other way round?’ asked Miss Marple dryly. ‘Yes, ma’am, and it’s upset Gladdie something awful.’
Miss Marple looked slightly surprised. Her recollection of Gladys, who had occasionally come to drink tea in the kitchen on her ‘days out’, was a stout, giggling girl of unshakably equable temperament.
Edna went on.
‘You see, ma’am, it’s the way it happened – the way Miss Skinner looked.’
‘How,’ enquired Miss Marple patiently, ‘did Miss Skinner look?’ This time Edna got well away with her news bulletin. ‘Oh, ma’am, it was ever such a shock to Gladdie. You see, one of Miss Emily’s brooches was missing, and such a hue and cry for it as never was, and of course nobody likes a thing like that to happen; it’s upsetting, ma’am, if you know what I mean. And Gladdie’s helped search everywhere, and there was Miss Lavinia saying she was going to the police about it, and then it turned up again, pushed right to the back of a drawer in the dressing-table, and very thankful Gladdie was.
‘And the very next day as ever was a plate got broken, and Miss Lavinia she bounced out right away and told Gladdie to take a month’s notice. And what Gladdie feels is it couldn’t have been the plate and that Miss Lavinia was just making an excuse of that, and that it must be because of the brooch and they think as she took it and put it back when the police was mentioned, and Gladdie wouldn’t do such a thing, not never she wouldn’t, and what she feels is as it will get round and tell against her and it’s a very serious thing for a girl, as you know, ma’am.’
Miss Marple nodded. Though having no particular liking for the bouncing, self-opinionated Gladys, she was quite sure of the girl’s intrinsic honesty and could well imagine that the affair must have upset her.
Edna said wistfully, ‘I suppose, ma’am, there isn’t anything you could do about it? Gladdie’s in ever such a taking.’
‘Tell her not to be silly,’ said Miss Marple crisply. ‘If she didn’t take the brooch – which I’m sure she didn’t – then she has no cause to be upset.’
‘It’ll get about,’ said Edna dismally.
Miss Marple said, ‘I – er – am going up that way this afternoon. I’ll have a word with the Misses Skinner.’
‘Oh, thank you, madam,’ said Edna.
Old Hall was a big Victorian house surrounded by woods and park land. Since it had been proved unlettable and unsaleable as it was, an enterprising speculator had divided it into four flats with a central hot-water system, and the use of ‘the grounds’ to be held in common by the tenants. The experiment had been satisfactory. A rich and eccentric old lady and her maid occupied one flat. The old lady had a passion for birds and entertained a feathered gathering to meals every day. A retired Indian judge and his wife rented a second. A very young couple, recently married, occupied the third, and the fourth had been taken only two months ago by two maiden ladies of the name of Skinner. The four sets of tenants were only on the most distant terms with each other, since none of them had anything in common. The landlord had been heard to say that this was an excellent thing. What he dreaded were friendships followed by estrangements and subsequent complaints to him.
Miss Marple was acquainted with all the tenants, though she knew none of them well. The elder Miss Skinner, Miss Lavinia, was what might be termed the working member of the firm, Miss Emily, the younger, spent most of her time in bed suffering from various complaints which, in the opinion of St Mary Mead, were largely imaginary. Only Miss Lavinia believed devoutly in her sister’s martyrdom and patience under affliction, and willingly ran errands and trotted up and down to the village for things that ‘my sister had suddenly fancied’.
It was the view of St Mary Mead that if Miss Emily suffered half as much as she said she did, she would have sent for Doctor Haydock long ago. But Miss Emily, when this was hinted to her, shut her eyes in a superior way and murmured that her case was not a simple one – the best specialists in London had been baffled by it – and that a wonderful new man had put her on a most revolutionary course of treatment and that she really hoped her health would improve under it. No humdrum GP could possibly understand her case.
‘And it’s my opinion,’ said the outspoken Miss Hartnell, ‘that she’s very wise not to send for him. Dear Doctor Haydock, in that breezy manner of his, would tell her that there was nothing the matter with her and to get up and not make a fuss! Do her a lot of good!’
Failing such arbitrary treatment, however, Miss Emily continued to lie on sofas, to surround herself with strange little pill boxes, and to reject nearly everything that had been cooked for her and ask for something else – usually something difficult and inconvenient to get.
The door was opened to Miss Marple by ‘Gladdie’, looking more depressed than Miss Marple had ever thought possible. In the sitting-room (a quarter of the late drawing-room, which had been partitioned into a dining-room, drawing-room, bathroom, and housemaid’s cupboard), Miss Lavinia rose to greet Miss Marple.
Lavinia Skinner was a tall, gaunt, bony female of fifty. She had a gruff voice and an abrupt manner.
‘Nice to see you,’ she said. ‘Emily’s lying down – feeling low today, poor dear. Hope she’ll see you, it would cheer her up, but there are times when she doesn’t feel up to seeing anybody. Poor dear, she’s wonderfully patient.’
Miss Marple responded politely. Servants were the main topic of conversation in St Mary Mead, so it was not difficult to lead the conversation in that direction. Miss Marple said she had heard that
that nice girl, Gladys Holmes, was leaving.
Miss Lavinia nodded.
‘Wednesday week. Broke things, you know. Can’t have that.’
Miss Marple sighed and said we all had to put up with things nowadays. It was so difficult to get girls to come to the country. Did Miss Skinner really think it was wise to part with Gladys?
‘Know it’s difficult to get servants,’ admitted Miss Lavinia. ‘The Devereuxs haven’t got anybody – but then, I don’t wonder – always quarrelling, jazz on all night – meals any time – that girl knows nothing of housekeeping. I pity her husband! Then the Larkins have just lost their maid. Of course, what with the judge’s Indian temper and his wanting chota hazri, as he calls it, at six in the morning and Mrs Larkin always fussing, I don’t wonder at that, either. Mrs Carmichael’s Janet is a fixture of course – though in my opinion she’s the most disagreeable woman, and absolutely bullies the old lady.’
