“Not precisely, no. In fact, two people impersonated two of the murder victims. The third person, Ida Gransbury . . . she was not an impersonation, I am sorry to say. No, she was unfortunately the real Ida Gransbury. Mr. Bobak, do you remember what you told me about what you overheard and what you witnessed when you took the afternoon tea to Room 317? I recall every word, since you have given me your account twice. Would you mind if I repeat it now for the benefit of us all?”

“No, sir, I would not.”

“Merci. You arrived to find the three murder victims apparently alive and talking about people they knew. You heard Harriet Sippel, or the woman later referred to as ‘Harriet’ by the man in the room, say, ‘She had no choice, did she? She’s no longer the one he confides in. He’d hardly be interested in her now—she’s let herself go, and she’s old enough to be his mother. No, if she wanted to find out what was going on in his mind, she had no choice but to receive the woman he does confide in, and talk to her.’ This was when the man in the room broke off from attending to you and to the food, and said, ‘Oh, Harriet, that’s hardly fair. Ida’s easily shocked. Go easy on her.’ Have I been accurate so far, Mr. Bobak?”

“You have, sir.”

“You then told me that either Ida or Harriet said something else that you could not remember, and then the man you assumed was Richard Negus said, ‘His mind? I’d argue he has no mind. And I dispute the old-enough-to-be-his-mother claim. I dispute it utterly.’ At which point the woman going by the name of Harriet laughed and said, ‘Well, neither of us can prove we’re right, so let’s agree to disagree!’ Correct?”

Rafal Bobak confirmed that, once again, Poirot had got it right.

“Bon. May I suggest to you, Mr. Bobak, that the remark made by either Ida or Harriet that you do not remember was in fact made by Harriet? I am convinced—absolutely convinced!—that you did not hear Ida Gransbury speak one single word while you were in that room, and that you did not see her face because she was sitting with her back facing the door.”

Bobak frowned, concentrating. Eventually he said, “I think you are right, Mr. Poirot. No, I did not see the face of Miss Ida Gransbury. And . . . I don’t think I heard her speak at all, now that you bring it up.”

“You did not hear her speak, monsieur—for the simple reason that Ida Gransbury, propped up in a chair with her back facing the door, was already murdered by a quarter past seven. The third person in Room 317 when you took up the afternoon tea was a dead woman!”

24. The Blue Jug and Bowl

The Blue Jug and Bowl