Hercule Poirot's Christmas - Agatha Christie [40]
‘Then—’ Her brows knit in an effort of remembrance. ‘I think he said something about its being necessary to be one of a large family to appreciate Christmas, and then he went on to speak of money. He said it would cost him more to run this house in future. He told George and Magdalene they would have to economize. Told her she ought to make her own clothes. Rather an old-fashioned idea, I’m afraid. I don’t wonder it annoyed her. He said his own wife had been clever with her needle.’
Poirot said gently:
‘Is that all that he said about her?’
Hilda flushed.
‘He made a slighting reference to her brains. My husband was very devoted to his mother, and that upset him very much. And then, suddenly Mr Lee began shouting at us all. He worked himself up about it. I can understand, of course, how he felt—’
Poirot said gently, interrupting her:
‘How did he feel?’
She turned her tranquil eyes upon him.
‘He was disappointed, of course,’ she said. ‘Because there are no grandchildren—no boys, I mean—no Lees to carry on. I can see that that must have festered for a long time. And suddenly he couldn’t keep it in any longer and vented his rage against his sons—saying they were a lot of namby-pamby old women—something like that. I felt sorry for him, then, because I realized how his pride was hurt by it.’
‘And then?’
‘And then,’ said Hilda slowly, ‘we all went away.’
‘That was the last you saw of him?’
She bowed her head.
‘Where were you at the time the crime occurred?’
‘I was with my husband in the music-room. He was playing to me.’
‘And then?’
‘We heard tables and chairs overturned upstairs, and china being broken—some terrible struggle. And then that awful scream as his throat was cut…’
Poirot said:
‘Was it such an awful scream? Was it’—he paused—‘like a soul in hell?’
Hilda Lee said:
‘It was worse than that!’
‘What do you mean, madame?’
‘It was like someone who had no soul…It was inhuman like a beast…’
Poirot said gravely:
‘So—you have judged him, madame?’
She raised a hand in sudden distress. Her eyes fell and she stared down at the floor.
XIV
Pilar came into the room with the wariness of an animal who suspects a trap. Her eyes went quickly from side to side. She looked not so much afraid as deeply suspicious.
Colonel Johnson rose and put a chair for her. Then he said:
‘You understand English, I suppose, Miss Estravados?’
Pilar’s eyes opened wide. She said:
‘Of course. My mother was English. I am really very English indeed.’
A faint smile came to Colonel Johnson’s lips, as his eyes took in the black gloss of her hair, the proud dark eyes, and the curling red lips. Very English! An incongruous term to apply to Pilar Estravados.
He said:
‘Mr Lee was your grandfather. He sent for you to come from Spain. And you arrived a few days ago. Is that right?’
Pilar nodded.
‘That is right. I had—oh! a lot of adventures getting out of Spain—there was a bomb from the air and the chauffeur he was killed—where his head had been there was all blood. And I could not drive a car, so for a long way I had to walk—and I do not like walking. I never walk. My feet were sore—but sore—’
Colonel Johnson smiled. He said:
‘At any rate you arrived here. Had your mother spoken to you of your grandfather much?’
Pilar nodded cheerfully.
‘Oh, yes, she said he was an old devil.’
Hercule Poirot smiled. He said:
‘And what did you think of him when you arrived, mademoiselle?’
Pilar said:
‘Of course he was very, very old. He had to sit in a chair—and his face was all dried up. But I liked him all the same. I think that when he was a young man, he must have been handsome—very handsome, like you,’ said Pilar to Superintendent Sugden. Her eyes dwelt with naïve pleasure on his handsome face, which had