Because this is just what a nightmare is. Walking about among people you know, looking in their faces- and suddenly the faces change- and it's not so… - Agatha Christie

Miss Bulstrode had another faculty which demonstrated her superiority over most other women. She could listen.

You must always be polite to people whose position forbids them to be rude to you.

Will you pour out tea, Miss Brent?' The el­der wom­an replied: 'No, you do it, dear. That tea-​pot is so heavy. And I have lost two skeins of my grey knitting-​wool. So an­noy­ing.' Ve­ra moved to the tea-​ta­ble. There was a cheer­ful rat­tle and clink of chi­na. Nor­mal­ity returned. Tea! Blessed or­di­nary everyday af­ter­noon tea! Philip Lom­bard made a cheery re­mark. Blore re­spond­ed. Dr. Arm­strong told a hu­mor­ous sto­ry. Mr. Jus­tice War­grave, who or­di­nar­ily hat­ed tea, sipped ap­prov­ing­ly.

In­to this re­laxed at­mo­sphere came Rogers. And Rogers was up­set. He said ner­vous­ly and at ran­dom: 'Ex­cuse me, sir, but does any one know what's become of the bath­room cur­tain?'

Lom­bard's head went up with a jerk. 'The bath­room cur­tain? What the dev­il do you mean, Rogers?'

'It's gone, sir, clean van­ished. I was go­ing round draw­ing all the cur­tai­ns and the one in the lav -​ bath­room wasn't there any longer.'

Mr. Jus­tice War­grave asked: 'Was it there this morn­ing?'

'Oh, yes, sir.'

Blore said: 'What kind of a cur­tain was it?'

'Scar­let oil­silk, sir. It went with the scar­let tiles.'

Lom­bard said: 'And it's gone?'

'Gone, Sir.'

They stared at each oth­er.

Blore said heav­ily: 'Well - af­ter all-​what of it? It's mad - ​but so's everything else. Any­way, it doesn't matter. You can't kill any­body with an oil­silk cur­tain. For­get about it.'

Rogers said: 'Yes, sir, thank you, sir.' He went out, shut­ting the door.