They both looked at Miss Marple.

She shook her head.

‘There’s another possibility,’ she said.

‘Of course. Erskine.’

Giles fairly ran across to the telephone.

‘What are you going to do?’ asked Gwenda.

‘Put through a trunk call to Northumberland.’

‘Oh Giles-you can’t really think-’

‘We’ve got toknow. If he’s there-he can’t have killed Lily Kimble this afternoon. No private aeroplanes or silly stuff like that.’

They waited in silence until the telephone bell rang.

Giles picked up the receiver.

‘You were asking for a personal call to Major Erskine. Go ahead, please. Major Erskine is waiting.’

Clearing his throat nervously, Giles said, ‘Er-Erskine? Giles Reed here-Reed, yes.’

He cast a sudden agonized glance at Gwenda which said as plainly as possible, ‘What the hell do I say now?’

Gwenda got up and took the receiver from him.

‘Major Erskine? This is Mrs Reed here. We’ve heard of-of a house. Linscott Brake. Is-is it-do you know anything about it? It’s somewhere near you, I believe.’ 

Erskine’s voice said: ‘Linscott Brake? No, I don’t think I’ve ever heard of it. What’s the postal town?’

‘It’s terribly blurred,’ said Gwenda. ‘You know those awful typescripts agents send out. But it says fifteen miles from Daith so we thought-’

‘I’m sorry. I haven’t heard of it. Who lives there?’

‘Oh, it’s empty. But never mind, actually we’ve-we’ve practically settled on a house. I’m so sorry to have bothered you. I expect you were busy.’

‘No, not at all. At least only busy domestically. My wife’s away. And our cook had to go off to her mother, so I’ve been dealing with domestic routine. I’m afraid I’m not much of a hand at it. Better in the garden.’

‘I’d always rather do gardening than housework. I hope your wife isn’t ill?’

‘Oh no, she was called away to a sister. She’ll be back tomorrow.’

‘Well, good night, and so sorry to have bothered you.’

She put down the receiver.

‘Erskineis out of it,’ she said triumphantly. ‘His wife’s away and he’s doing all the chores. So that leaves it between the two others. Doesn’t it, Miss Marple?’

Miss Marple was looking grave.

‘I don’t think, my dears,’ she said, ‘that you have given quite enough thought to the matter. Oh dear-I am really very worried. If only I knew exactly what to do…’