So did Mr Gaskell, I understand."
"You don't like him."
"Yes, I do.
Most women would.
But he can't take me in.
He's a very attractive person, I think. But a little unwise, perhaps, to talk as much as he does."
"Unwise is the word," said Sir Henry.
"Mark will get himself into trouble if he doesn't look out."
A tall dark young man in white flannels came to the terrace and paused just for a second, observing Adelaide Jefferson and Hugo McLean.
"That one," said Sir Henry obligingly, "is X, whom we might describe as an interested party. He is the tennis dancing pro, Raymond Starr, Ruby Keene's partner."
Miss Marple looked at him with interest.
She said, "He's very nice-looking, isn't he?"
"I suppose so."
"Don't be absurd, Sir Henry," said Mrs Bantry. "There's no supposing about it. He is good-looking."
Miss Marple murmured, "Mrs Jefferson has been taking tennis lessons, I think she said."
"Do you mean anything by that, Jane, or don't you?"
Miss Marple had no chance of replying to this downright question.
Young Peter Carmody came across the terrace and joined them.
He addressed himself to Sir Henry.
"I say, are you a detective too?
I saw you talking to the superintendent, the fat one is a superintendent, isn't he?"
"Quite right, my son."
"And somebody told me you were a frightfully important detective from London.
The head of Scotland Yard or something like that."
"The head of Scotland Yard is usually a complete dud in books, isn't he?"
"Oh, no; not nowadays.
Making fun of the police is very old-fashioned. Do you know who did the murder yet?"
"Not yet, I'm afraid."
"Are you enjoying this very much, Peter?" asked Mrs Bantry.
"Well, I am rather.
It makes a change, doesn't it?
I've been hunting round to see if I could find any clues, but I haven't been lucky.
I've got a souvenir, though.
Would you like to see it?
Fancy, mother wanted me to throw it away.
I do think one's parents are rather trying sometimes."
He produced from his pocket a small match box. Pushing it open, he disclosed the precious contents.
"See, it's a fingernail. Her fingernail.
I'm going to label it Fingernail of the Murdered Woman and take it back to school.
It's a good souvenir, don't you think?"
"Where did you get it?" asked Miss Marple. "Well, it was a bit of luck, really. Because of course I didn't know she was going to be murdered then.
It was before dinner last night. Ruby caught her nail in Josie's shawl and it tore it.
Mum's cut it off for her and gave it to me and said put it in the wastepaper basket, and I meant to, but I put it in my pocket instead, and this morning I remembered and looked to see if it was still there, and it was, so now I've got it as a souvenir." "Disgusting," said Mrs Bantry. Peter said politely, "Oh, do you think so?"
"Got any other souvenirs?" asked Sir Henry.
"Well, I don't know.
I've got something that might be."
"Explain yourself, young man."
Peter looked at him thoughtfully. Then he pulled out an envelope. From the inside of it he extracted a piece of brown tape-like substance.
"It's a bit of that chap George Bartlett's shoelace," he explained.
"I saw his shoes outside the door this morning and I bagged a bit just in case."