Madeline considered for a few moments and then replied in a low, shaky voice: “It was just a simple omelette. I first rubbed the pan with a cut clove of garlic and put in the butter to heat. Then I broke an egg into a cup, separated the yolk from the white, and, having beaten them up separately, mixed them and added a very small portion of pounded anchovy, a pinch or two of finely chopped parsley and a little salt. I cooked it in the usual way and turned it out on a hot plate which I covered at once.”
“Who took it up to deceased?”
“I did. I ran straight up with it and sat and talked to deceased while he ate it.”
“Did you meet any one on your way up or in the bedroom?”
“No. There was nobody on the stairs, and the deceased was alone.”
“Did deceased take anything to drink with his supper?”
“Yes. He had a glass of chablis. I fetched the bottle and the glass from the dining room and poured out the wine for him.”
“Did you meet anybody in the dining room or coming or going?”
“No, I met nobody.”
“Can you think of any way in which any poison could have got into the omelette or into the wine?”