“You see,” Miss Marple began, “it’s like this, Inspector.”

Inspector Slack nodded. If he was honest he wasn’t really listening, turning over the current problem in his own mind. Nevertheless, from past experience he had learned to pay some attention to whatever Miss Marple might say.

“Imagine you have gone blackberry picking and when you return home and weigh what you’ve picked, you are rather disappointed with the amount you’ve picked. What would you think?”

Slack considered, shrugged his shoulders and said, “It was a poor autumn and the yield was low.”

“Possibly, but supposing you had walked down the lane that morning and thought what a good crop of blackberries there were and decided to return in the afternoon to pick them, but you found your yield was poor. What would you think then?”

Inspector Slack looked blank, so Sergeant Lake chimed in with, “Some other blighter had got there before me.”

“Precisely, Sargeant.”

Slack glared at his sergeant and said, “I’m not quite sure I see the significance.”

“Well, you were convinced you had seen something important in Major Reynolds’ study, but then, when you returned after his body had been taken away, it was no longer there, and you thought you had been mistaken. But what if you were correct, but that, in Sergeant Lake’s words, ‘some other blighter had got there first’.”

Slack shook his head. “I’m sorry, Miss Marple, but the only ones who could have done that were my men, or the two who removed the body. None of them would have taken anything.”

“There was one other.”

Slack thought and then said, “Surely you’re not accusing the doctor of having been involved in the death?”

“Oh no, but he may have seen something which he felt pointed suspicion at another, something small perhaps, which he might, possibly, have slipped into his bag.”

Slack frowned. “I suppose it’s possible. I shall have another word with the doctor.”

Miss Marple smiled. “And I hope this yields the answer you’re looking for.”