"Yes."

"You were at the party?"

"I was at the party." She reflected a minute or two.

"It was a very good party.

Well run. Well arranged. About thirty-odd people were there, that is, counting helpers of different kinds. Children-teenagers-grownups-and a few cleaning and domestic helpers in the background."

"Did you take part in the arrangements which were made, I believe, earlier that afternoon or that morning?"

"There was nothing really to do. Mrs.

Drake was fully competent to deal with all the various preparations with a small number of people to help her. It was more domestic preparations that were needed."

"I see. But you came to the party as one of the guests?"

"That is right."

"And what happened?"

"The progress of the party, I have no doubt, you already know. You want to know if there is anything I can tell you that I specially noticed or that I thought might have a certain significance? I don't want to waste your time unduly, you understand."

"I am sure you will not waste my time.

Yes, Miss Whittaker, tell me quite simply."

"The various events happened in the way already arranged for. The last event was what was really more a Christmas festivity or associated with Christmas, than it would be with Hallowe'en. The Snapdragon, a burning dish of raisins with brandy poured over them, and those round snatch at the raisins-there are squeals of laughter and excitement. It became very hot, though, in the room, with the burning dish, and I left it and came out in the hall.

It was then, as I stood there, that I saw Mrs. Drake coming out of the lavatory on the first floor landing. She was carrying a large vase of mixed autumn leaves and flowers. She stood at the angle of the staircase, pausing for a moment before coming downstairs. She was looking down over the well of the staircase. Not in my direction.

She was looking towards the other end of the hall where there is a door leading into the library. It is set just across the hall from the door into the dining-room. As I say, she was looking that way and pausing for a moment before coming downstairs.

She was shifting slightly the angle of the vase as it was a rather awkward thing to carry, and weighty if it was, as I presumed, full of water. She was shifting the position of it rather carefully so that she could hold it to her with one arm, and put out the other arm to the rail of the staircase as she came round the slightly shaped corner stairway. She stood there for a moment or two, still not looking at what she was carrying, but towards the hall below. And suddenly she made a sudden movement-a start I would describe it as-yes, definitely something had startled her. So much so that she relinquished her hold of the vase and it fell, reversing itself as it did so so that the water streamed over her and the vase itself crashed down to the hall below, where it broke in smithereens on the hall floor."

"I see," said Poirot. He paused a minute or two, watching her. Her eyes, he noticed, were shrewd and knowledgeable.

They were asking now his opinion of what she was telling him.

"What did you think had happened to startle her?"

"On reflection, afterwards, I thought she had seen something."

"You thought she had seen something," repeated Poirot, thoughtfully.

"Such as?"

"The direction of her eyes, as I have told you, was towards the door of the library. It seems to me possible that she may have seen that door open or the handle turn, or indeed she might have seen something slightly more than that. She might have seen somebody who was opening that door and preparing to come out of it. She may have seen someone she did not expect to see."

"Were you looking at the door yourself?"

"No. I was looking in the opposite direction up the stairs towards Mrs.

Drake."

"And you think definitely that she saw something that startled her?"

"Yes. No more than that, perhaps. A door opening. A person, just possibly an unlikely person, emerging. Just sufficient to make her relinquish her grasp on the very heavy vase full of water and flowers, so that she dropped it."

"Did you see anyone come out of that door?"

"No. I was not looking that way. I do not think anyone actually did come out into the hall. Presumably whoever it was drew back into the room."

"What did Mrs. Drake do next?"

"She made a sharp exclamation of vexation, came down the stairs and said to me, "Look what I've done now! What a mess!" She kicked some of the broken glass away. I helped her sweep it in a broken pile into a corner. It wasn't practicable to clear it all up ai that moment.

The children were begiixning to come out of the Snapdragon roor-n. I fetched a glass cloth and mopped her up a bit, and shortly after that the party came to an end."

"Mrs. Drake did not say anything about having been startled or make any reference as to what might have startled her?"

"No. Nothing- of the kind."

"But you think she was startled."

"Possibly, Monsieur Poirot, you think that I am making a rather unnecessary fuss about something of no importance whatever?"

"No," said Poirot, "I do not think that at all. I have only met Mrs.

Drake once," he added thoughtfully? "when I went to her house with my friend, Mrs. Oliver, to visit-as one might say, if one wishes to be melodramatic-the scene of the crime. It did not strike me during the brief period I had for observation that Mrs.

Drake could be; a man who is easily startled. Do you. agree with my view?"

"Certainly. That is why I, myself, since have wondered.^' "You asked no special questions at the time?"

"I had no earthly reason to do so. If your hostess has been unfortunate enough to drop one of her best glass vases, and it has smashed to smithereens, it is hardly the part of a guest to say "What on earth made you do that?"; thereby accusing her of a clumsiness which I can assure you is not one of Mrs. Drake's characteristics."

"And after that, as you have said, the party came to an end. The children and their mothers or friends left, and Joyce could not be found. We know now that Joyce was behind the library door and that Joyce was dead. So who could it have been who was about to come out of the library door, a little while earlier, shall we say, and then hearing voices in the hall shut the door again and made an exit later when there were people milling about in the hall making their farewells, putting on their coats and all the rest of it? It was not until after the body had been found, I presume, Miss Whittaker, that you had time to reflect on what you had seen?"

"That is so." Miss Whittaker rose to her feet.

"I'm afraid there's nothing else that I can tell you. Even this may be a very foolish little matter."

"But noticeable. Everything noticeable is worth remembering. By the way, there is one question I should like to ask you.

Two, as a matter of fact."

Elizabeth Whittaker sat down again.

"Go on," she said, "ask anything you like."

"Can you remember exactly the order in which the various events occurred at the party?"

"I think so." Elizabeth Whittaker reflected for a moment or two.

"It started with a broomstick competition. Decorated broomsticks.

There were three or four different small prizes for that. Then there was a kind of contest with balloons, punching them and batting them about. A sort of mild horse-play to get the children warmed up. There was a looking-glass business where the girls went into a small room and held a mirror where a boy's or young man's face reflected in it."

"How was that managed?"

"Oh, very simply. The transom of the door had been removed, and so different faces looked through and were reflected in the mirror a girl was holding."

"Did the girls know who it was they saw reflected in the glass?"