“Not dinner, sir,” said Bobak. “Afternoon tea—that was what Mr. Negus ordered. Afternoon tea at dinner time. He asked if that was all right or if I was going to force them to have what he called ‘a dinner sort of dinner.’ Told me that he and his friends were of one mind as not being in the mood for one of those. Said they’d rather have afternoon tea. I told him he could have whatever he wanted, sir. He asked for sandwiches—ham, cheese, salmon and cucumber—and an assortment of cakes. And scones, sir, with jam and cream.”

“And beverages?” Poirot asked.

“Tea, sir. For all three of them.”

“D’accord. And the sherry for Richard Negus?”

Rafal Bobak shook his head. “No, sir. No sherry. Mr. Negus didn’t ask me for a sherry. I didn’t take a glass of sherry up to Room 317.”

“You are certain of this?”

“Absolutely, sir.”

Being on display in front of all those pairs of eyes was making me feel a touch awkward. I was painfully aware that I had not yet asked a question. Letting Poirot run the show was all very well, but if I didn’t participate at all, I would look feeble. I cleared my throat and addressed the room: “Did any of you take a cup of tea to Harriet Sippel’s room, number 121, at any point? Or a sherry to Richard Negus’s room? Either yesterday or Wednesday, the day before?”

Heads began to shake. Unless someone was lying, it seemed that the only delivery to any of the three victims’ rooms was the one of afternoon-tea-for-dinner made by Rafal Bobak to Room 317 at 7:15 P.M. on Thursday.

I tried to sort it out in my mind: the teacup in Harriet Sippel’s room wasn’t a problem. That must have been one of the three brought by Bobak, since only two cups were found in Ida Gransbury’s room after the murders. But how did the sherry glass make its way to Richard Negus’s room unless transported there by a waiter?

Did the killer arrive at the Bloxham with a glass of Harveys Bristol Cream in his hand, as well as a pocket full of mongrammed cufflinks and poison? It seemed far-fetched.

Poirot appeared to have fixed on the same problem. “To be absolutely clear: not one of you gave a glass of sherry to Mr. Richard Negus, either in his room or anywhere else in the hotel?”

There was more head-shaking.

“Signor Lazzari, can you tell me please, was the glass found in Mr. Negus’s room one that belonged to the Bloxham Hotel?”

“Yes, it was, Monsieur Poirot. This is all very perplexing. I would suggest that perhaps a waiter who is absent today gave the glass of sherry to Mr. Negus on Thursday or Wednesday, but everybody is here now who was here then.”