Murder Ahoy Page #5

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as you put it, 'case the joints' for

her real paramour, Compton.

I'll think about that.

Meanwhile, she was poisoned. The

poison was injected into her finger.

- So I perceived.

- All right, but how?

By mousetrap.

- Mousetrap?

- Yes.

I think that last night

that unfortunate girl

was seeking a safe hiding place

for the ill-gotten gains.

She found one,

reached inside and snap.

Snap?

Yes, the weal across

the back of her hand - consistent.

The puncture - a sharp point attached

to the snapper.

Wait a minute. A mousetrap

primed with a deadly poison?

In heaven's name, why?

The hiding place she found

was already in use.

What?

Hiding something else; something

of even greater value, obviously,

as the owner was prepared to guard it

with a murderous booby trap.

Miss Marple,

all this seems so... fantastic?

Not really, Chief Inspector.

The method is outlined in this book;

The Doom Box,

as is, by the way,

the principle of murder by snuff.

Excuse me.

Will you and your men

want luncheon?

Don't want to put you

to any trouble, madam.

Oh, it's no trouble.

Four meals are going begging

now that our lads

have been reduced to 29.

Chief Inspector, I am convinced

that the key to all this

lies in the fact that the full ship's

company of lads numbers 33.

Miss Marple,

you're way above my head.

Mr. Stringer!

Rash!

Foolhardy!

What hit me?

Seems some joker heaved this rock

through the cabin window, sir.

Does it?

Probably one of these hooligans

we read so much about.

- Pity the police can do nothing.

- Look here...

As soon as you're compos mentis,

Inspector,

the captain wants to see you

on a matter of urgency.

- Chief Inspector.

- Miss Marple?

I must be quick.

The captain intends to demand that

you allow tonight's hornpipe display

and I want you to give way.

- What?

- You must.

Chief Inspector,

do you know who threw that rock?

If I only did!

My friend, Mr. Stringer.

- Mr. Stringer!

- Yes, and you'll thank him for it.

I found this envelope

in Compton's cabin after his death.

Assaulting a police officer,

withholding information... again.

Don't be petty, Chief Inspector.

This envelope is used for the ship's

quarterly report to the Trustees

and Mr. Stringer has enclosed

the latest example for us.

You will see that the complement

of lads is quoted as 45.

In fact, it is only 33.

- You mean... a swindle.

- Yes.

One which, if it's been going on

as long as I think,

has cost the Trust a fortune.

May I, sir?

I think Mr. Ffolly Hardwicke

stumbled on this swindle,

so did Compton, who then added

to his list of crimes, blackmail.

Blackmail?

He intercepted that report,

steamed open the envelope,

and as you will observe,

calculated the amount to which

our miscreant was profiting per year.

No doubt he intended to claim

a substantial cut for himself,

but of course he got

more than he bargained for.

Who signed that report?

- The captain.

- Come on.

- No, nothing precipitant.

- But...

No one must be apprehended yet.

They must be allowed to go ashore.

That's impossible.

Embezzlement is one thing,

proof of triple murder is another.

Softly softly catchee monkey...

with a mousetrap.

Liberty boats away in two minutes.

What? Oh, my goodness!

I haven't even changed.

- Captain?

- Yes, madam.

- I wonder if you'd let me cry off.

- Cry off?

Well, I'll be returning home

tomorrow.

- Tomorrow?

- Yes.

Yes, of course.

While I'd tremendously enjoy

accompanying you tonight,

I'd like so much more

to spend my last night on board.

Well, that's entirely up to you.

I'm a landlubber, you see,

and to hear the sea gently

slapping the sides of the ship...

...to be curled up with a good book...

Well, I'll be only too happy

as long as it tops off your stay.

This is a rattling good

detective yarn.

I borrowed it

from the ship's library.

I know only one of you has read it,

but I suggest that all of you do.

I've just got up

to the most exciting part when...

I hope I won't be giving

too much away

if I say the answer is a mousetrap!

A mousetrap?

There, I'll say no more,

otherwise I'll spoil it for you.

- Captain, the boats are waiting.

- Oh, good.

Well then, may we wish you

a very pleasant evening.

Thank you.

- Good night.

- The same to you.

All of you.

Miss Marple, I understand

that you spoke up for me.

I'd just like to say thank you.

Good night.

Good evening, Miss Marple.

Are you quite comfortable,

Chief Inspector?

No.

Well, it won't be long now.

Torch!

You!

I didn't go ashore.

No one noticed in the dark.

No one notices me anyway.

What do you want?

This was my last chance.

You leave tomorrow don't you?

That is my intention, yes.

I've been under great strain

since you came aboard.

I want to talk to you.

I've got a confession to make.

Yes?

I suffer from chronic seasickness.

I am not fit to teach seamanship.

- I have to keep going on pills.

- I see.

- You steal them from the sickbay.

- How did you know?

It doesn't matter.

I suppose I'll have to resign.

- No, I don't think so.

- What?

Admiral Lord Nelson

had your complaint.

Where would we be

if he had resigned?

If it sets your mind at rest,

I suggest that it's not too late

for you to go ashore

and join the festivities

in honor of your noble predecessor.

Miss Marple,

I hardly know what to say.

I don't know how to thank you.

Then don't try.

You can show yourself now.

Good evening, Commander.

Good evening, Miss Marple.

How long has it taken you

to embezzle such a vast sum?

My fellow Trustees

must indeed have been lax.

Mr. Ffolly Hardwicke's visit

was the first for a decade.

You prepare the quarterly reports,

don't you?

Yes, I do.

I must admit I suspected the captain

at first, since he signed them.

I thought you might.

Then it dawned on me.

You had two reports didn't you?

The one accurate, the other false.

A sheet of carbon paper between

the two and the captain signed both.

True.

You've spent little of the fruits

of your labor - I find that curious.

It's simply that I wish to retire

in a style befitting an admiral.

- I beg your pardon?

- My rank, you know.

I understood

you retired as a commander.

- You don't understand anything!

- I should like to.

I was axed from the navy.

Nothing to do with my competency.

"Unsuitable for further promotion", I

think the phrase was.

I was offered this post afterwards.

- You took it?

- Yes.

I also took the regular promotions

that would have been mine

had I still been in the service

and the pay rises

that went with them.

I may wear the uniform

of a commander,

but I am in fact

an admiral of the fleet.

I think you've heard enough,

Chief Inspector.

You almost convinced me there.

Now I propose to execute you

on the spot and scuttle this vessel.

They'll think

we both went down with her

and by the time the truth comes out,

if it ever does,

I shall be enjoying a well-earned

retirement a long way from here.

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