THE MURDER OF ROGER ACKROYD
Parker retired through the door, Flora followed him, and started to ascend the main staircase.
"Is that enough?" she asked over her shoulder.
"Admirable," declared the little man, rubbing his hands. "By the way, Parker, are you sure there were two glasses on the tray that evening? Who was the second one for?"
"I always bring two glasses, sir," said Parker. "Is there anything further?"
"Nothing. I thank you."
Parker withdrew, dignified to the last.
Poirot stood in the middle of the hall frowning. Flora came down and joined us.
"Has your experiment been successful?" she asked. "I don't quite understand, you know———"
Poirot smiled admiringly at her.
"It is not necessary that you should," he said. "But tell me, were there indeed two glasses on Parker's tray that night??"
Flora wrinkled her brows a minute.
"I really can't remember," she said. "I think there were. Is—is that the object of your experiment?"
Poirot took her hand and patted it.
"Put it this way," he said. "I am always interested to see if people will speak the truth."
"And did Parker speak the truth?"
"I rather think he did," said Poirot thoughtfully.
A few minutes later saw us retracing our steps to the village.
