Hallowe'en Party - Agatha Christie [33]
‘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 at that moment. The children were beginning to come out of the Snapdragon room. 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 woman 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 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 occured 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