‘Who can have taken it, sir?’ he whispered. ‘And why? It’s—it’s like a madhouse.’
Hercule Poirot said:
‘It is not madness I am afraid of. It is sanity! Somebody, Tressilian, is in great danger.’
He turned and re-entered the house.
At that moment Pilar came out from the study. A red spot shone on either cheek. She held her head high and her eyes glittered.
As Poirot came up to her, she suddenly stamped her foot and said: ‘I will not take it.’
Poirot raised his eyebrows. He said:
‘What is it that you will not take, mademoiselle?’
Pilar said:
‘Alfred has just told me that I am to have my mother’s share of the money my grandfather left.’
‘Well?’
‘I could not get it by law, he said. But he and Lydia and the others consider it should be mine. They say it is a matter of justice. And so they will hand it over to me.’
Poirot said again:
‘Well?’
Pilar stamped once more with her foot.
‘Do you not understand? They are giving it to me—giving it to me.’
‘Need that hurt your pride? Since what they say is true—that it should in justice be yours?’
Pilar said:
‘You do not understand…’
Poirot said:
‘On the contrary—I understand very well.’
‘Oh!…’ She turned away pettishly.
There was a ring at the bell. Poirot glanced over his shoulder. He saw the silhouette of Superintendent Sugden outside the door. He said hurriedly to Pilar:
‘Where are you going?’
She said sulkily:
‘To the drawing-room. To the others.’
Poirot said quickly:
‘Good. Stay with them there. Do not wander about the house alone, especially after dark. Be on your guard. You are in great danger, mademoiselle. You will never be in greater danger than you are today.’
He turned away from her and went to meet Sugden.
The latter waited till Tressilian had gone back into his pantry.
Then he shoved a cable form under Poirot’s nose.
‘Now we’ve got it!’ he said. ‘Read that. It’s from the South African Police.’
The cable said:
‘Ebenezer Farr’s only son died two years ago.’
Sugden said:
‘So now we know! Funny—I was on a different tack altogether…’
IV
Pilar marched into the drawing-room, her head held high.
She went straight up to Lydia, who was sitting in the window with some knitting.
Pilar said:
‘Lydia, I have come to tell you that I will not take that money. I am going away—at once…’
Lydia looked astonished. She laid down her knitting. She said:
‘My dear child, Alfred must have explained very badly! It is not in the least a matter of charity, if that is what you feel. Really, it is not a question of kindness or generosity on our part. It is a plain matter of right and wrong. In the ordinary course of events your mother would have inherited this money, and you would have come into it from her. It is your right—your blood right. It is a matter, not of charity, but of justice!’
Pilar said fiercely:
‘And that is why I cannot do it—not when you speak like that—not when you are like that! I enjoyed coming here. It was fun! It was an adventure, but now you have spoilt it all! I am going away now, at once—you will never be bothered by me again…’
Tears choked her voice. She turned and ran blindly out of the room.
Lydia stared. She said helplessly:
‘I’d no idea she would take it like that!’
Hilda said:
‘The child seems quite upset.’
George cleared his throat and said portentously:
‘Er—as I pointed out this morning—the principle involved is wrong. Pilar has the wit to see that for herself. She refuses to accept charity—’
Lydia said sharply:
‘It is not charity. It is her right!’
George said:
‘She does not seem to think so!’
Superintendent Sugden and Hercule Poirot came in. The former looked round and asked:
‘Where’s Mr Farr? I want a word with him.’
Before anyone had time to answer, Hercule Poirot said sharply:
‘Where is the señorita Estravados?’
George Lee said with a trace of malicious satisfaction:
‘Going to clear out, so she says. Apparently she has had enough of her English relations.’
Poirot wheeled round.
He said to Sugden:
‘Come!’
As the two men emerged into the hall, there was the sound of a heavy crash and a far-away shriek.
Poirot cried:
‘Quick…Come…’
They raced along the hall and up the far staircase. The door of Pilar’s room was open and a man stood in the doorway. He turned his head as they ran up. It was Stephen Farr.
He said:
‘She’s alive…’
Pilar stood crouched against the wall of her room. She was staring at the floor where a big stone cannon ball was lying.
She said breathlessly:
‘It was on top of my door, balanced there. It would have crashed down on my head when I came in, but my skirt caught on a nail and jerked me back just as I was coming in.’
Poirot knelt down and examined the nail. On it was a thread of purple tweed. He looked up and nodded gravely.
‘That nail, mademoiselle,’ he said, ‘saved your life.’
The superintendent said, bewildered:
‘Look here, what’s the meaning of all this?’
Pilar said:
‘Someone tried to kill me!’
She nodded her head several times.
Superintendent Sugden glanced up at the door.
‘Booby trap,’ he said. ‘An old-fashioned booby trap—and its purpose was murder! That’s the second murder planned in this house. But this time it didn’t come off!’
Stephen Farr said huskily:
‘Thank God you’re safe.’
Pilar flung out her hands in a wide, appealing gesture.
‘Madre de Dios,’ she cried. ‘Why should anyone wish to kill me? What have I done?’
Hercule Poirot said slowly:
‘You should rather ask, mademoiselle, what do I know?’
She stared.
‘Know? I do not know anything.’
Hercule Poirot said:
‘That is where you are wrong. Tell me, Mademoiselle Pilar, where were you at the time of the murder? You were not in this room.’
‘I was. I have told you so!’
Superintendent Sugden said with deceptive mildness:
‘Yes, but you weren’t speaking the truth when you said that, you know. You told us you heard your grandfather scream—you couldn’t have heard that if you were in here—Mr Poirot and I tested that yesterday.’
‘Oh!’ Pilar caught her breath.
Poirot said:
‘You were somewhere very much nearer his room. I will tell you where I think you were, mademoiselle. You were in the recess with the statues quite close to your grandfather’s door.’
Pilar said, startled:
‘Oh…How did you know?’
Poirot said with a faint smile:
‘Mr Farr saw you there.’
Stephen said sharply:
‘I did not. That’s an absolute lie!’
Poirot said:
‘I ask your pardon, Mr Farr, but you did see her. Remember your impression that there were three statues in that recess, not two. Only one person wore a white dress that night, Mademoiselle Estravados. She was the third white figure you saw. That is so, is it not, mademoiselle?’
Pilar said, after a moment’s hesitation: ‘Yes, it is true.’
Poirot said
gently: ‘Now tell us, mademoiselle, the whole truth. Why were you there?’
Pilar said:
‘I left the drawing-room after dinner and I thought I would go and see my grandfather. I thought he would be pleased. But when I turned into the passage I saw someone else was there at his door. I did not want to be seen because I knew my grandfather had said he did not want to see anyone that night. I slipped into the recess in case the person at the door turned round.’
‘Then, all at once, I heard the most horrible sounds, tables—chairs’—she waved her hands—‘everything falling and crashing. I did not move. I do not know why. I was frightened. And then there was a terrible scream’—she crossed herself—‘and my heart it stopped beating, and I said, “Someone is dead…” ’
‘And then?’
‘And then people began coming running along the passage and I came out at the end and joined them.’
Superintendent Sugden said sharply:
‘You said nothing of all this when we first questioned you. Why not?’
Pilar shook her head. She said, with an air of wisdom:
‘It is not good to tell too much to the police. I thought, you see, that if I said I was near there you might think that I had killed him. So I said I was in my room.’
Sugden said sharply:
‘If you tell deliberate lies all that it ends in is that you’re bound to come under suspicion.’
Stephen Farr said: ‘Pilar?’
‘Yes?’
‘Who did you see standing at the door when you turned into the passage? Tell us.’
Sugden said: ‘Yes, tell us.’
For a moment the girl hesitated. Her eyes opened, then narrowed. She said slowly:
‘I don’t know who it was. It was too dimly lit to see. But it was a woman…’
V
Superintendent Sugden looked round at the circle of faces. He said, with something as near irritation as he had yet shown:
‘This is very irregular, Mr Poirot.’
Poirot said:
‘It is a little idea of mine. I wish to share with everyone the knowledge that I have acquired. I shall then invite their co-operation, and so we shall get at the truth.’
Sugden murmured under his breath: ‘Monkey tricks.’
He leaned back in his chair. Poirot said:
‘To begin with, you have, I think, an explanation to ask of Mr Farr.’
Sugden’s mouth tightened.
‘I should have chosen a less public moment,’ he said. ‘However, I’ve no objection.’ He handed the cable to Stephen Farr. ‘Now, Mr Farr, as you call yourself, perhaps you can explain this?’
Stephen Farr took it. Raising his eyebrows, he read it slowly out loud. Then, with a bow, he handed it back to the superintendent.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It’s pretty damning, isn’t it?’
Sugden said:
‘Is that all you’ve got to say about it? You quite understand there is no obligation on you to make a statement—’
Stephen Farr interrupted. He said:
‘You needn’t caution me, Superintendent. I can see it trembling on your tongue! Yes, I’ll give you an explanation. It’s not a very good one, but it’s the truth.’
He paused. Then he began:
‘I’m not Ebenezer Farr’s son. But I knew both father and son quite well. Now try and put yourself in my place. (My name is Stephen Grant, by the way.) I arrived in this country for the first time in my life. I was disappointed. Everything and everybody seemed drab and lifeless. Then I was travelling by train and I saw a girl. I’ve got to say it straight out: I fell for that girl! She was the loveliest and most unlikely creature in the world! I talked to her for a while in the train and I made up my mind then and there not to lose sight of her. As I was leaving the compartment I caught sight of the label on her suitcase. Her name meant nothing to me, but the address to which she was travelling did. I’d heard of Gorston Hall, and I knew all about its owner. He was Ebenezer Farr’s one-time partner and old Eb often talked about him and said what a personality he was.
‘Well, the idea came to me to go to Gorston Hall and pretend I was Eb’s son. He had died, as this cable says, two years ago, but I remembered old Eb saying that he had not heard from Simeon Lee now for many years, and I judged that Lee would not know of the death of Eb’s son. Anyway, I felt it was worth trying.’
Sugden said: ‘You didn’t try it on at once, though. You stayed in the King’s Arms at Addlesfield for two days.’
Stephen said:
‘I was thinking it over—whether to try it or not. At last I made up my mind I would. It appealed to me as a bit of an adventure. Well, it worked like a charm! The old man greeted me in the friendliest manner and at once asked me to come and stay in the house. I accepted. There you are, Superintendent, there’s my explanation. If you don’t fancy it, cast your mind back to your courting days and see if you don’t remember some bit of foolishness you indulged in then. As for my real name, as I say, it’s Stephen Grant. You can cable to South Africa and check up on me, but I’ll tell you this: you’ll find I’m a perfectly respectable citizen. I’m not a crook or a jewel thief.’
Poirot said softly: ‘I never believed you were.’
Superintendent Sugden stroked his jaw cautiously. He said:
‘I’ll have to check up on that story. What I’d like to know is this: Why didn’t you come clean after the murder instead of telling us a pack of lies?’
Stephen said disarmingly:
‘Because I was a fool! I thought I could get away with it! I thought it would look fishy if I admitted to being here under a false name. If I hadn’t been a complete idiot I would have realized you were bound to cable to Jo’burg.’
Sugden said:
‘Well, Mr Farr—er—Grant—I’m not saying I disbelieve your story. It will be proved or disproved soon enough.’
He looked across inquiringly at Poirot. The latter said:
‘I think Miss Estravados has something to say.’
Pilar had gone very white. She said, in a breathless voice:
‘It is true. I would never have told you, but for Lydia and the money. To come here and pretend and cheat and act—that was fun, but when Lydia said the money was mine and that it was only justice, that was different; it was not fun any longer.’
Alfred Lee said with a puzzled face:
‘I do not understand, my dear, what you are talking about.’
Pilar said:
‘You think I am your niece, Pilar Estravados? But that is not so! Pilar was killed when I was travelling with her in a car in Spain. A bomb came and it hit the car and she was killed, but I was not touched. I did not know her very well, but she had told me all about herself and how her grandfather had sent for her to go to England and that he was very rich. And I had no money at all and I did not know where to go or what to do. And I thought suddenly: “Why should not I take Pilar’s passport and go to England and become very rich?” ’ Her face lit up with its sudden wide smile. ‘Oh, it was fun wondering if I could get away with it! Our faces on the photograph were not unlike. But when they wanted my passport here I opened the window and threw it out and ran down to get it, and then I rubbed some earth just over the face a little because at a barrier travelling they do not look very closely, but here they might—’
Alfred Lee said angrily:
‘Do you mean to say that you represented yourself to my father as his granddaughter, and played on his affection for you?’
Pilar nodded. She said complacently:
‘Yes, I saw at once I could make him like me very much.’
George Lee broke out:
‘Preposterous!’ he spluttered. ‘Criminal! Attempting to get money by false pretences.’
Harry Lee said:
‘She didn’t get any from you, old boy! Pilar, I’m on your side! I’ve got a profound admiration for your daring. And, thank goodness, I’m not your uncle any more! That gives me a much freer hand.’
Hercule Poirot's Christmas Page 21