"I know what you're thinking," she said to Miss Marple.
"You're thinking that I'd be the worst kind.
Because I'd kid myself.
If you just wanted the money for selfish reasons you'd at any rate see what you were like.
But once you began to pretend about doing good with it, you'd be able to persuade yourself, perhaps, that it wouldn't very much matter killing someone..."
Then her eyes cleared.
"But I shouldn't," she said.
"I shouldn't really kill anyone.
Not even if they were old, or ill, or doing a lot of harm in the world.
Not even if they were blackmailers or - or absolute beasts."
She fished a fly carefully out of the dregs of the coffee and arranged it on the table to dry.
"Because people like living, don't they?
So do flies.
Even if you're old and in pain and you can just crawl out in the sun.
Julian says those people like living even more than young strong people do.
It's harder for them to die, the struggle's greater.
I like living myself - not just being happy and enjoying myself and having a good time. I mean living - waking up and feeling, all over me, that I'm there - ticking over."
She blew on the fly gently; it waved its legs, and flew rather drunkenly away.
"Cheer up, darling Aunt Jane," said Bunch.
"I'd never kill anybody."
Chapter 14 EXCURSION INTO THE PAST
After a night in the train, Inspector Craddock alighted at a small station in the Highlands.
It struck him for a moment as strange that the wealthy Mrs. Goedler - an invalid - with a choice of a London house in a fashionable square, an estate in Hampshire, and a villa in the South of France, should have selected this remote Scottish home as her residence.
Surely she was cut off here from many friends and distractions.
It must be a lonely life - or was she too ill to notice or care about her surroundings?
A car was waiting to meet him. A big old-fashioned Daimler with an elderly chauffeur driving it.
It was a sunny morning and the inspector enjoyed the twenty mile drive, though he marvelled anew at this preference for isolation.
A tentative remark to the chauffeur brought partial enlightenment.
"It's her own home as a girl.
Ay, she's the last of the family.
And she and Mr. Goedler were always happier here than anywhere, though it wasn't often he could get away from London.
But when he did they enjoyed themselves like a couple of bairns."
When the grey walls of the old keep came in sight, Craddock felt that time was slipping backwards.
An elderly butler received him, and after a wash and a shave, he was shown into a room with a huge fire burning in the grate, and breakfast was served to him.
After breakfast, a tall middle-aged woman in nurse's dress, with a pleasant and competent manner, came in and introduced herself as Sister McClelland.
"I have my patient all ready for you, Mr. Craddock.
She is, indeed, looking forward to seeing you."
"I'll do my best not to excite her," Craddock promised.
"I had better warn you of what will happen.
You will find Mrs. Goedler apparently quite normal.
She will talk and enjoy talking and then - quite suddenly - her powers will fail.
Come away at once, then, and send for me.
She is, you see, kept almost entirely under the influence of morphia.
She drowses most of the time.
In preparation for your visit, I have given her a strong stimulant.
As soon as the effect of the stimulant wears off, she will relapse into semiconsciousness."
"I quite understand, Miss McClelland.
Would it be in order for you to tell me exactly what the state of Mrs. Goedler's health is?"
"Well, Mr. Craddock, she is a dying woman.
Her life cannot be prolonged for more than a few weeks.