"She poured cold water on the idea that Rudi Scherz wanted to murder her.
And she was quite right.
And there's another thing, sir."
"Yes?"
"Somebody might try again."
"That would certainly prove the truth of the theory," said the Chief Constable dryly.
"By the way, look after Miss Marple, won't you?"
"Miss Marple?
Why?"
"I gather she is taking up residence at the Vicarage in Chipping Cleghorn and coming into Medenham Wells twice a week for her treatments.
It seems that Mrs. What's-her-name is the daughter of an old friend of Miss Marple's.
Good sporting instincts, that old bean.
Oh, well, I suppose she hasn't much excitement in her life and sniffing round after possible murderers gives her a kick."
"I wish she wasn't coming," said Craddock seriously.
"Going to get under your feet?"
"Not that, sir, but she's a nice old thing.
I shouldn't like anything to happen to her... always supposing, I mean, that there's anything in this theory."
Chapter 9 CONCERNING THE DOOR
"I'm sorry to bother you again, Miss Blacklog -"
"Oh, it doesn't matter.
I suppose, as the inquest was adjourned for a week, you're hoping to get more evidence?"
Detective-Inspector Craddock nodded.
"To begin with, Miss Blacklog, Rudi Scherz was not the son of the proprietor of the Hotel des Alpes at Montreux.
He seems to have started his career as an orderly in a hospital at Berne.
A good many of the patients missed small pieces of jewellery.
Under another name he was a waiter at one of the small winter sports places.
His speciality there was making out duplicate bills in the restaurant with items on one that didn't appear on the other.
The difference, of course, went into his pocket.
After that he was in a department store in Zurich. Their losses from shop-lifting were rather above the average whilst he was with them.
It seems likely that the shop-lifting wasn't entirely due to customers."
"He was a picker up of unconsidered trifles, in fact?" said Miss Blacklog dryly.
"Then I was right in thinking that I had not seen him before?"
"You were quite right - no doubt you were pointed out to him at the Royal Spa Hotel and he pretended to recognise you.
The Swiss police had begun to make his own country rather too hot for him, and he came over here with a very nice set of forged papers and took a job at the Royal Spa."
"Quite a good hunting ground," said Miss Blacklog dryly.
"It's extremely expensive and very well-off people stay there. Some of them are careless about their bills, I expect."
"Yes," said Craddock. "There were prospects of a satisfactory harvest."
Miss Blacklog was frowning.
"I see all that," she said. "But why come to Chipping Cleghorn?
What does he think we've got here that could possibly be better than the rich Royal Spa Hotel?"
"You stick to your statement that there's nothing of especial value in the house?"
"Of course there isn't.
I should know.
I can assure you, Inspector, we've not got an unrecognised Rembrandt or anything like that."
"Then it looks, doesn't it, as though your friend, Miss Bunner were right?
He came here to attack you." ("There, Letty, what did I tell you!"
"Oh, nonsense, Bunny.")
"But is it nonsense?" said Craddock.
"I think, you know, that it's true."
Miss Blacklog stared very hard at him.