1 Prologue Looking at the second newspaper, it was Jane.Miss Marple's every afternoon habit.Every morning, two newspapers were delivered to her house, and she would read the first one over her morning tea if it arrived in time.It's a pity that the children who deliver newspapers have no sense of time, and often either come to a novice, or find someone to deliver on their behalf.These newspaper delivery students have their own opinions on the newspaper delivery route. Perhaps they are looking for a change from the monotony. They just suffer from the habit of reading newspapers early and want to know the sensational news before taking the bus, train or other means of transportation to work. The late newspapers annoyed them, although the middle-aged and old ladies of St. Mary Mead's quiet life preferred to read them at the breakfast table.

Miss Marple was absorbed in reading the front page and several other columns of the daily paper that day.She dubbed the paper the Diary of the Potpourri, an ironic title attributed to the fact that her Newsday subscription had changed owners once, adding to it a plethora of articles about men's clothing, women's attire, Articles on women's heart palpitations, children's competitions, and so on, plus letters from women readers who complained.In order to get these things in, they are willing to squeeze out any real news except the front page, or put these stories in a corner where no one will find out.The move greatly annoyed her and her group of friends.Miss Marple is old-fashioned, she thinks newspapers are newspapers, and what they report should be news.

In the afternoon, after lunch, she opened The Times after enjoying a twenty-minute nap in a straight-backed armchair specially bought for her rheumatic back.This paper was for her to peruse in her more leisurely hours.In fact, The Times is not what it used to be.Annoyingly, you can hardly find anything worth seeing anymore.In the past, you only had to read from the front page, and you could easily skip the pages you didn't want to read and find the article topics you were interested in.But this time-tested choreography has now been disturbed in an unusual way.Two editions suddenly gave way to Capri travelogues, with illustrations; sports news appeared in far more prominent places than before; court news and obituaries were covered in more detail than regular columns.For a period of time, the trivial news of births, marriages, etc., which occupied a prominent position in the "Times", particularly attracted Miss Marple's attention, but recently Miss Marple noticed that such news changed to appear regularly on the left page of the newspaper.

Miss Marple turned her attention first to the important news on the front page.But she didn't read too much, because it was similar to what she had read this morning, only with a slightly more refined style.Her eyes fell on the table of contents: Chronicles, Reviews, Science, Sports; then she turned the paper as usual, skimming the births, marriages, and deaths, and then to the newsletters.In this column she almost always found something interesting.The next thing is the Palace Gazette. On this page, you can also find the news of the auction held that day.There was always a short scientific paper on the same page, but she wasn't going to read it.To her, that kind of article made no sense at all.

After flipping through the announcements of births, marriages, and deaths, as usual, Miss Marple thought to herself, sadly, that people are only interested in death now! People have babies too, but Miss Marple has no way of knowing the names of the new parents.If there was a column in the paper mentioning the newborn, with an accompanying statement of whose offspring it was, she had some chance of happily recognizing who it was.She might think so: Really, Mary.Pendergas actually has three granddaughters!Of course, this may be a bit far-fetched. As for the marriage column, she only glanced at it superficially, because most of the children of her old friends got married a few years ago.Her eyes moved to the obituary column, this time she looked more seriously.In fact, she read it very carefully, for fear of missing any name.Alloway, Angupasrow, Arden, Button, Bedshaw, Burgoweather (God, what a weird German name, but the guy seems to have lived in the Leeds).Carpinter, Captang, Craig.Clegg?Was it one of the Cleggs she knew?No, it seems not.Janet.Clegg is a Yorkshireman.Macdonald, Mackenzie, Nicholson.Nicholson?No, definitely not the Nicholson she knew.Ogg, Omeruo, she thought, it must be some kind of aunt from that family.Yes, very likely.Linda.Ormero.No, she doesn't know it.Guan Cuier?God, that must be Elizabeth.Guan Cuier.He was eighty-five years old.Omg, it really is!She thought Elizabeth.Guan Cui'er died several years ago.She has always been so weak, who would have expected her to live so long!No one would have imagined that those old bones of hers had lasted so long.Reis, Ridley, Rafael.Rafael?She remembered something, the name was so familiar.Raphael.Belfort House in Maidstone.Belfort House in Maidstone.No, she doesn't remember the address.Respectful wreath: Jason.Raphael.It's a rare surname.She thought she had probably heard of it somewhere.Ross︱Parkinson.It can't be no, no.Ryland?Emily.Rylan, no, she never knew her name was Emily.Ryland's people.Condolences to her loving husband and children.Well, is this lucky or sad?See it how you want.

Miss Marple put down the newspaper and looked idly at the crossword puzzle, wondering why the name Rafael seemed familiar to her. I shall remember, Miss Marple said.Years of experience told her what happened to the memory of the elderly.I will remember, no doubt. She glanced at the garden outside the window, then quickly looked away, trying to get the garden out of her mind.The garden is the source of her happiness and the place she has worked hard for many years.But now, thanks to the doctor's fuss, her work in the garden was forbidden.She also tried to fight against the ban, but finally got the realization: it is best to do what the doctor said.She arranged the chair in a position where it was not easy to see out of the window, and she would not move it unless she wanted to see something.She sighed, picked up the woven bag, and took out a children's sweater coat that was almost finished.The front and back of the jacket are knitted, now it's the sleeves.Knitting sleeves has always been boring.There must be two sleeves, exactly the same.It's boring, but the pink yarn is pretty.Pink yarn.Wait a minute, what does it have to do with it?Ah, yes, it had something to do with the name in the newspaper she had just read.Pink yarn.The blue ocean.Caribbean Sea.beach.Sunlight.She's knitting and that's right, Mr. Raphael.That trip to the Caribbean islands (see "Caribbean Mysteries" in this series for more details).St. Jano Island.It was her nephew Raymond who entertained her.She remembered her niece, Raymond's wife Jon, saying:

Don't involve yourself in any more murders, Aunt Jane.That won't do you any good. Well, she didn't want to be involved in any murders either, but they happened.This is true.Just because an old army major with a glass eye insisted on telling her long, dull stories.Poor Major, what's his name?She has forgotten.Mr. Raphael and his secretary, Mrs. Walters called Mrs. What, by the way, Esther.Walters, and his nurse, Jackson, who was in charge of the massage.She remembered it all.Oh, poor Mr. Raphael, he's dead.He also knew that his days were numbered, in fact, he had already told her himself.However, it appears he lived longer than doctors had expected.He was a strong and stubborn man and a very rich man.

Miss Marple was lost in thought.Although the knitting needles moved regularly, she didn't actually concentrate on knitting.Her mind was on the late Mr. Raphael, recalling everything about him.He was indeed an unforgettable man.She could picture his features clearly in her mind.Yes, he's a very distinct character, unreasonable, bad-tempered, and sometimes downright rude.No one complained about his rudeness, though, and she remembered that.People don't think he's rude because he's so rich.Yes, he is very rich.He had a personal secretary, a nurse who was also a valet, and a qualified masseuse.For a while, he couldn't get out of bed with no one to attend to him.

It occurred to Miss Marple that there was something suspicious about the character of the attendant.Mr. Raphael was very rude to him sometimes, but he never seemed to take it seriously.Of course, the reason is still: Mr. Rafael is too rich. No one else paid him half what I paid him, Mr. Rafael said.He himself knows this.However, he was quite up to the job. Miss Marple wondered whether the nurse (his name was Jackson or Jason?) continued to attend to Mr. Raphael afterwards.He has been with Mr. Raphael for at least a year, right?One year and three or four months.Probably not.Mr. Rafael is the kind of person who loves the new and hates the old.He gets easily bored with the people around him, the way they behave, the way they look, the way they sound

Miss Marple understood this very well.Sometimes she does too.Look at her own chaperone from the past, the kind, affable, soft-spoken woman who was maddening. Miss Marple said: Ah, it's been better since Oh, God, she had forgotten the woman's name.Miss Bishop?No, not Miss Bishop.Oh my God, it was a rough time. Her thoughts went back to Mr. Rafael, and no, that man's name was not Jason.It's Jackson, Arthur.jackson. Oh dear, said Miss Marple again.I keep getting names wrong.I was thinking of Miss Knight, not Miss Bishop.How could I have mistaken her name for Miss Bishop?She thought of the answer.Of course, because of chess.Both are pawn names.One is called Knights (knights, meaning knights), and the other is Bishop (Bishop, bishop).

I think, next time I think of her, I might think her name is Kaisha (Castle, fortress) or Luke (Rook, city general, also means blackmail), although she is not the kind who will blackmail others people.She is not.So what was the name of Mr. Raphael's kind secretary?Oh, I thought of it, her name is Esther.Walters.That's right.I don't know Esther.How is Walters?She must have inherited some money, right?Now she may have gotten her share of the inheritance. She remembered that Mr. Raphael had told her something about the estate, or else she had. Oh, God, the more you try to think things through, the more muddled it gets.Esther.The incident in the Caribbean had hit Walters hard, but she would forget it.She's a widow, right?Miss Marple hoped that Ethel.Walters has found a second love, married to a gentle, kind, and reliable man.This seems unlikely.She thought, Esther.Walters is capable of falling in love with a man who cannot be married. Miss Marple turned back to Mr. Raphael.Resignation wreath, so it says in the obituary.It's not that she wants to send Mr. Rafael a wreath.He has the ability to buy all the greenhouses in England if he wants.Besides, they didn't have that kind of friendship.They were not friends, nor had they been intimate.They are what adjectives should she use?ally.Yes, they were brief allies once.It was an exciting time, and he deserved to be a good ally.She'd known it all along; she'd known it when she'd run to him that dark tropical night on that Caribbean island.Yes, she remembered.At that time, she wore a pink wool scarf on her head. What was this thing called when she was young?It's called the Psychedelic Shawl.She put that pretty pink woolen scarf around her head and he stared at her and smiled, and then she said four words and she smiled as she recalled them, which made him laugh, but then he stopped Laughed.He didn't smile, and did as she asked, and then oh!Miss Marple sighed.It was an exciting time, she had to admit.She never told her nephew or Jon dear about it, because they told her so kindly not to, didn't they?Miss Marple nodded, then muttered to herself: Poor Mr. Raphael, I hope he didn't suffer anything. Probably not.He may have been sedated by a heavily paid doctor, and he was peaceful until the last moment.During those few weeks on the Caribbean island, he suffered a lot, and the pain was almost constant.He is such a brave man. He is a brave man.He was dead, and she was sorry, because she thought that although he was old and sick, the world would lose something without him.She didn't know what he looked like when he was in business.Ruthless, impertinent, domineering, domineering, she thought; he was provocative.But he was a very good friend, she thought.There was a deep kindness in him, and he had been careful not to let it show.He was a man whom she respected and admired.Alas, she regretted that he was no longer alive.She hoped that he would not let go too much, and hoped that he would die peacefully.He was now undoubtedly incinerated, and his ashes lay in a large and handsome marble crypt.She didn't even know if he was married.He never mentioned having a wife, nor did he mention having children.Is he a lonely man?Or is his life too rich to feel lonely at all?she does not know. She sat there for a long time that afternoon, thinking about everything about Mr. Raphael.Since her return to England, she had never thought of seeing him again, and in fact hadn't.And strangely, she felt connected to him all the time.If only he could feel the emotional connection they had with that date or something, and come to her or propose to her to meet again.that implicated Really, Miss Marple was terrified by her own thoughts, and said in her mouth: It can't be just a ruthless relationship between us, can it?Is she Jane.Marple, are you a heartless person?You know, Miss Marple said to herself.That's weird, I've never thought about this before.you know i believe i can be ruthless too The door opened, and a dark, curly-haired head poked out.It's Cherry, and she's Miss Bishop, a popular successor to Miss Knight. Did you say something?Cheryl asked. I'm talking to myself, Miss Marple said.I just wondered if I could be ruthless. what, you?Cherry said.Impossible!You are so kind. It doesn't hurt to be kind, Miss Marple said.I believe I can be ruthless if given good reason. What is your so-called legitimate reason? For justice, Miss Marple said. I must say, you love little Jerry.Hopkins did show your ruthlessness, Cherry said, the day you caught him abusing a kitten, I've never seen you so mad at anyone!You frightened him dumbfounded.He will never forget it in his life. Hope he doesn't mistreat the kitten afterward. Oh, and if he had, he would have made sure you weren't around, Cherry said.In fact, I'm not sure, because I haven't seen any other kid ever be afraid of you.Seeing you knitting with a ball of wool, anyone would think you must be as gentle as a sheep.But I dare say, if you are provoked one day, you will act like a lion. Miss Marple seemed suspicious.She didn't quite know what kind of role she was in Cherry's mind.Did she ever reflect silently, thinking about the different moods she had in the past.She had been quite impatient with Miss Bishop and Miss Knight (really, she couldn't do it anymore, forget people's names so easily).But her impatience is mostly expressed in sarcastic remarks.Lions, on the other hand, can't speak sarcasm.Lions don't need to be sarcastic at all.It jumps, growls, uses its sharp claws, and bites and swallows its prey. Indeed, said Miss Marple.I don't think I ever acted like a lion. As Miss Marple walked along the garden that evening, her usual troubles arose in her mind.Maybe it was the pot of snapdragon that brought back her memories.Indeed, she kept telling old George that all she wanted was sulfur-colored snapdragons, not the ugly purple-tinged snapdragons that gardeners love. Sulfur colored!cried Miss Marple. A fence was erected in the path in front of her house.At this time, someone just passed by outside the fence, and the woman turned around and asked: Excuse me, did you just say something? Excuse me, I was talking to myself, Miss Marple answered, turning to look over the fence. She knew most of the people in St. Mary Mead, and even if she didn't, she was familiar.But she didn't know the woman.She was a stocky woman in an old but sturdy tweed kilt, solid country loafers, an emerald hoodie, and a hand-knit woolen scarf. I'm afraid that's what people do at my age, Miss Marple added. Your garden is beautiful, said the woman. Not pretty yet, said Miss Marple.I remember when I took care of myself oh i know.I understand how you feel.I think you also employ a lot of titles for a so-called I know those guys, mostly rough old guys who claim to know a lot about gardening.Some really do understand, some don't.They came and drank cup after cup of tea, but only a little grass was removed.They were nice, some were really nice, but it was still irritating, she added.I love gardening myself. Do you live locally?Miss Marple asked curiously. Oh, I live with a Mrs. Hastings.I heard her mention you, you're Miss Marple, aren't you? That's right. I am here as a chaperone and gardener.By the way, my name is Barrett, Miss Barrett.I don't really have much to do, Miss Barrett said.She grows all kinds of annual crops, and I can't get in at all. At this point, she opened her mouth and grinned.Of course, I also have to do chores, like go shopping.Anyway, anytime you need me here, I'll spare an hour or two for you.I daresay I'm better than any gardener you're hiring right now. That would be wonderful, said Miss Marple.I like flowers the most, and I don't like growing vegetables very much. I grow vegetables for Mrs. Hastings.It's boring, but it must be done.Oh, I should go. Her eyes swept Miss Marple from head to toe, as if to remember her firmly, then she nodded happily and walked away. Mrs. Hastings?Miss Marple could not remember anyone named Mrs. Hastings.This Mrs. Hastings must not be an old friend of hers, and she must not be a great gardener.Oh yes, she was probably the occupant of the new houses at the end of Gibraltar Road, where several families had moved in last year.Miss Marple sighed and looked at the snapdragons in distress.When she saw a few weeds, she wanted to pull them out by the roots, and when she saw one or two suckers, she even wanted to cut them off with a pruning knife.At last, sighing, she resolutely resisted the temptation, and went back along the path to her house.She thought of Mr. Raphael again.They used to quote a book when he and she were young, what was the name of that book? "Dark Night Boat".Now that I think about it, the title of the book is really appropriate.Sailing in the dark night.In that dark night, she went to ask him no, she asked him for help. She insisted that there was no time to lose, but he actually agreed and started to arrange everything immediately!Maybe she acted like a lion that time?No, no, not at all.She didn't feel angry at the time, but insisted on doing an urgent matter at once.And he knows it all too well. Poor Mr Raphael.The ship that sailed in the dark was a very interesting ship.Once you get used to his rudeness, he's a delight, isn't he?No!She shook her head.Mr. Rafael was by no means a pleasant fellow.Alas, she must get Mr. Rafael out of her mind. Ships pass by at night and greet each other when they meet; In the dark, only a signal can be sent to transmit distant voices. She would probably never think of him again.She might look to see if his obituary was in the Times.But she thinks that's unlikely.He's not famous, he's not famous, he's just rich.Of course, many people who published their obituaries in the newspaper were also because they were very rich, but she didn't think Mr. Rafael was that kind of rich man.He was not a great industrialist, not a famous financier, not a great banker.He's just a guy who's made astronomical fortunes all his life.