“I’ve remembered as much as I’m likely to remember, sir, and I thought it would be as well to tell you while it’s fresh in my mind. Some of it you’ve heard already, but I’ve been going over and over it, and it’s remarkable how much comes back to you once you apply yourself.”

“Indeed, monsieur. It is necessary only to sit still and employ the little gray cells.”

“Mr. Negus was the one who took delivery of the meal, as I’ve told you, sir. The two ladies were discussing a woman and a man, like I said at the hotel. It sounded as if she’d been abandoned by him for being too old, or he’d lost interest in her for some other reason. At least, that was my understanding, sir, but I’ve managed to remember a bit of what they said, so you can judge for yourself.”

“Ah! Most helpful!”

“Well, sir, the first thing I’ve managed to remember is Mrs. Harriet Sippel saying, “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’s going on in his mind, she had no choice but to receive the woman he does confide in, and talk to her.” After saying all this, Mrs. Sippel broke into peals of laughter, and it wasn’t nice laughter. Catty, as I said at the hotel.”

“Please go on, Mr. Bobak.”

“Well, Mr. Negus heard what she said, because he turned away from me—he and I had been exchanging pleasantries, you see—and he said, “Oh, Harriet, that’s hardly fair. Ida’s easily shocked. Go easy on her.” And then either Harriet Sippel or the other one, Ida Gransbury, said something. I can’t for the life of me remember what it was, sir, for which I’m sorry.”

“There is no need to apologize,” said Poirot. “Your recollection, incomplete as it is, will prove invaluable, I am sure.”

“I hope so, sir,” said Bobak doubtfully. “The next bit I remember word by word was many minutes later, as I laid everything out on the table for the three guests. Mr. Negus said to Mrs. Sippel, “His mind? I’d argue he has no mind. And I dispute your old-enough-to-be-his-mother claim. I dispute it utterly.” Mrs. Sippel laughed at this and said, “Well, neither of us can prove we’re right, so let’s agree to disagree!” That was the last thing I heard before I left the room, sir.”

“I would argue he has no mind,” Poirot murmured.

“What they were saying, sir—none of it was friendly. This woman they were talking about, they harbored nothing but ill will for her.”