Hallowe'en Party by Agatha Christie Page A

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?”
    “I presume some of them did and some of them didn't. A little make-up was employed on the male half of the arrangement. You know, a mask or a wig, sideburns, a beard, some greasepaint effects. Most of the boys were probably known to the girls already and one or two strangers might have been included. Anyway, there was a lot of quite happy giggling,” said Miss Whittaker, showing for a moment or two a kind of academic contempt for this kind of fun.
    “After that there was an obstacle race and then there was flour packed into a glass tumbler and reversed, sixpence laid on top and everyone took a slice off. When the flour collapsed that person was out of the competition and the others remained until the last one claimed the sixpence. After that there was dancing, and then there was supper. After that, as a final climax, came the Snapdragon.”
    “When did you yourself see the girl Joyce last?”
    “I've no idea,” said Elizabeth Whittaker. “I don't know her very well. She's not in my class. She wasn't a very interesting girl so I wouldn't have been watching her. I do remember I saw her cutting the flour because she was so clumsy that she capsized it almost at once. So - she was alive then but that was quite early on.”
    “You did not see her go into the library with anyone?”
    “Certainly not. I should have mentioned it before if I had. That at least might have been significant and important.”
    “And now,” said Poirot, “for my second question or questions. How long have you been at the school here?”
    “Six years this next autumn.” “And you teach?” “Mathematics and Latin.”
    “Do you remember a girl who was teaching here two years ago Janet White by name?”
    Elizabeth Whittaker stiffened. She half rose from her chair, then sat down again.
    “But that but that has nothing to do with all this, surely?”
    “It could have,” said Poirot.
    “But how?