Hallowe'en Party by Agatha Christie Page A

you,” said Poirot. “Some children I consider are most unattractive.”
    “Well, I agree, they're not brought up very well nowadays. Everything seems left to the school, and of course they lead very permissive lives. Have their own choice of friends and - er - oh, really, Monsieur Poirot.”
    “Was she a nice child or not a nice child?” said Poirot insistently.
    Mrs Drake looked at him and registered censure.
    “You must realise, Monsieur Poirot, that the poor child is dead -”
    “Dead or alive, it matters. Perhaps if she was a nice child, nobody would have wanted to kill her, but if she was not a nice child, somebody might have wanted to kill her, and did so -”
    “Well, I suppose - Surely it isn't a question of niceness, is it?”
    “It could be. I also understand that she claimed to have seen a murder committed.”
    “Oh that,” said Mrs Drake contemptuously.
    “You did not take that statement seriously?”
    “Well, of course I didn't. It was a very silly thing to say.”
    “How did she come to say it?”
    “Well, I think really they were all rather excited about Mrs Oliver being here. You are a very famous person, you must remember, dear,” said Mrs Drake, addressing Mrs Oliver.
    The word “dear” seemed included in her speech without any acompanying enthusiasm.
    “I don't suppose the subject would ever have arisen otherwise, but the children were excited by meeting a famous authoress -”
    “So Joyce said that she had seen a murder committed,” said Poirot thoughtfully.
    “Yes, she said something of the kind. I wasn't really listening.”
    “But you do remember that she said it?”
    “Oh yes, she said it. But I didn't believe it,” said Mrs Drake. “Her sister hushed her up at once, very properly.”
    “And she was annoyed about that, was she?”
    “Yes, she went on saying that it was true.”
    “In fact, she boasted about it.”
    “When you put it that way, yes.”
    “It might have been true, I suppose,” said Poirot.
    “Nonsense! I don't believe it for one minute,” said Mrs Drake. “It's the sort of stupid thing Joyce would say.”
    “She was a stupid girl?”
    “Well, she was the kind, I think, who liked to show off,” said Mrs Drake. “You know, she always wanted to have seen more or done more than other girls.”
    “Not a very lovable character,” said Poirot.
    “No indeed,” said Mrs Drake. “Really the kind that you have to be shutting up all the time.”
    “What did the other children who were there have to say about it? Were they impressed?”
    “They laughed at her,” said Mrs Drake. “So, of course, that made her worse.”
    “Well,” said Poirot, as he rose, “I am glad to have your positive assurance on that point.” He bowed politely over her hand. “Good-bye, Madame, thank you so much for allowing me to view the scene of this very unpleasant occurrence. I hope it has not recalled unpleasant memories too definitely to you.”
    “Of course,” said Mrs Drake, “it is very painful to recall anything of this kind. I had so hoped our little party would go off well. Indeed, it was going off well and everyone seemed to be enjoying it so much till this terrible thing happened. However, the only thing one can do is to try and forget it all. Of course, it's very unfortunate that Joyce should have made this silly remark about seeing a murder.”
    “Have you ever had a murder in Woodleigh Common?” “Not that I can remember,” said Mrs Drake firmly.
    “In this age of increased crime that we live in,” said Poirot, “that really seems somewhat unusual, does it not?”
    “Well, I think there was a lorry driver who killed a pal of his - something like that - and a little girl whom they found buried in a gravel pit about fifteen miles from here, but that was years ago. They were both rather sordid and uninteresting crimes. Mainly the result of drink, I think.”
    “In fact, the kind of murder unlikely to have been witnessed by a girl of twelve or