He leaned forward and touched Crestwick’s shoulder.
“Come along, Jim, and I’ll give you one or two particulars that should decide you.”
Somewhat to his astonishment, the lad rose and rather sheepishly followed him. There was an awkward silence for a few moments after they left the room; then Marple turned to his guests.
“I can’t undertake to say whether Lisle was justified or not,” he began. “I’m sorry, however, that anything of this nature should have happened in my house.”
“So am I,” said Gladwyne with gracious condescension. “There is, of course, one obvious remedy.”
Marple raised his hands in expostulation. He liked Lisle, and Gladwyne was a distinguished guest. Batley seemed to find his confusion amusing.
“I think the only thing we can do is to let the matter drop,” he suggested. “These fellows from the wilds are primitive—one can’t expect too much. The correct feeling or delicacy of expression we’d look for among ourselves is hardly in their line.”
Marple was mollified, and he fell in with Batley’s suggestion that they should try a game.
In the meanwhile, Crestwick looked around at his companion as they went down the corridor.
“I believe I owe you some thanks,” he admitted. “I like the way you headed off Batley—I think he meant to turn savage at first—and I wouldn’t have been willing to draw in Gladwyne, as you did. He has a way of crushing you with a look.”