In the second set of six Miss Marple short stories which (together with a special extra story) comprise The Thirteen Problems, we get introduced to the character of Jane Helier. She is a beautiful and intelligent, though vapid, actress. I should say, stage actress. The stories she was in were published in late 1929 and early 1930; talkies had only just started dominating movies in 1929 and the superior experience of seeing color and hearing sound in plays probably made them preferable over silent films for people who could easily afford to pay to see plays.

She’s an interesting character, especially because she is played mostly for laughs until the final story of the six, The Affair At the Bungalow. When I said that she is beautiful, I don’t mean merely that she is above average. She is described as having been argued as the most beautiful woman in England. She has that kind of beauty which makes all of the men around her gallant even where they have no romantic interest in her. I think Agatha Christie plays this part as much just for realism as for laughs. And I say this even though Jane Helier is mostly played for laughs, especially how much she doesn’t understand. That said, there is an interesting dynamic between her and Miss Marple—who, at the beginning of the evening, Jane doesn’t know from Eve.

Miss Marple was invited to dinner to round out the places at table. She was recommended by Sir Henry Clithering, former commissioner of Scotland Yard, because Dolly Bantry (the hostess) needed an extra guest to round out the dinner table and asked Sir Henry who she should invite. Sir Henry remembered Miss Marple vividly from the year before when he’d attended the dinner party of Miss Marple’s famous writer nephew, i.e. from the first run of six Miss Marple stories, in which each guest told a story of a crime they had learned about personally and the rest were to guess the solution. (Only Miss Marple could, for every story, of course). This second six stories features the same dinner game, though with different guests. Until the very end of the dinner party, Jane underestimates Miss Marple. Miss Marple, of course, does not underestimate Jane.

During the course of the evening, there were a great many things that Jane didn’t know, but she did have one insight which Miss Marple praised. That was in the second-to-last story, and it it we also learn that she has had grief in her life, related to being betrayed by a man. In the second-to-last story, she had somewhat more intelligent things to say about who might have been the murderer, though only Miss Marple figured it out. Then, finally, we come to Jane’s story.

I will have to discuss the solution to discuss the story, so if it is necessary: consider this, dear reader, your spoiler warning.

Jane begins by telling her story about “a friend” who happens to also be a famous actress. Everyone guesses—correctly—that this friend is really her, and in only a few sentences she trips up and says “I” instead of “she”, and a moment later quotes someone as saying “Miss Helier” instead of “Miss Helman.” She is embarassed and says that it’s so difficult to do it, and everyone is very sympathetic, so she goes on telling the story about herself.

It’s an elaborate story about a young man getting drugged at a bungalow and a theft being committed, and he identifies the woman who drugged him as Jane but she had an alibi. At the end of it, there are various solutions offered, except by Miss Marple, who says that it seems to have a personal element in it and a deliberate attempt to get the young man into trouble, though it’s not really a satisfactory explanation. A little later she remembers Mrs. Pebmarsh, who was a laundress that stole an opal pin from one woman and put it on the blouse of another woman. Instead of offering a solution, she says that she has none and that the real moral of the story is that in a crisis, women must stick together. Jane explains that she doesn’t know the solution and hoped that the people assembled would, since they’re so clever. They’re annoyed at her since this explicitly went against the rules, but there’s nothing anyone can do. The time is late and Miss Marple departs, but before she does she whispers something in Jane Helier’s ear which causes her to exclaim.

A little later, Dolly Bantry accompanies Jane Helier to her bedroom (she’s staying with them) and Jane asks if there are many people like Miss Marple, and Dolly says that she supposes every village has one. Jane is disappointed by this. It comes out that Miss Marple did in fact guess the real solution but wouldn’t say it in front of the men. Jane had, in fact, committed the crime in the story, with her understudy as her accomplice. She had played the parlor maid and her understudy played her.

Except that this never actually happened. Jane was planning to do it in a few months and was “trying it on the dog.” She was very encouraged that no one had come up with the solution except for Miss Marple, but was discouraged to hear that there probably was a Miss Marple in every village. And then there was the advice which Miss Marple whispered in her ear right before she left.

I shouldn’t do it if I were you, my dear. Never put yourself too much in another woman’s power, even if you do think she’s your friend at the moment.

What’s really interesting about the way that Jane Helier reveals that she was not as dumb as everyone thought:

Mrs. Bantry sat down and groaned.

“Oh! my poor head. And all the time—Jane Helier, you deceitful girl! Telling us that story the way you did!”

“I am a good actress,” said Jane complacently. “I always have been, whatever people choose to say. I didn’t give myself away once, did I?”

It’s an interesting twist on the character. She is still not brilliant, to be sure, but she is not nearly the airhead that she seemed to be. This is an interesting commentary on the nature of extreme beauty, especially when coupled with narcissism, or at least selfishness. She does not bother herself to be interested in things which do not grab her, which is why there are so many things she doesn’t catch. She doesn’t pay much attention to the people around her because she doesn’t need to—they will treat her well regardless of how she treats them. If she smiles and speaks nicely, people will assume her lack of interest and attention were inability, rather than self-absorption. Indeed, beauty will help out in this regard in another way, too, which is that people tend to assume that a beautiful face means a beautiful soul. That is, a face which shows little trace of the fall of man often fools people into thinking that the soul is as unfallen as the face, and so people are unlikely to suspect moral defects.

It is interesting that making her smarter than she seems also makes her worse than she seems, and indeed this is born out by the scheme of revenge which she was contemplating and testing out. It had none of the sweetness of her manner.

Agatha Christie is often given credit for the cleverness of her plots, but not often given credit for her understanding of human nature. I think she is not often given this credit because her writing is plain and not literary. It certainly was not nearly so literary as another of the Queens of Crime, Dorothy L. Sayers. Yet I think, in this, she is underrated. Her characters did not leap off the page. They did not dazzle the reader with their complex psychology. But the truth is that human psychology is almost never as complex as it likes to pretend it is when it is defending itself from realizing its own faults and Agatha Christie’s writing was far more concerned with the psychological truth than with peering into the veil of lies a person tells themselves.

Jane Helier is an interesting character study, if you pay attention.