‘I am a conventional woman.’
Then she bit her lip, hesitated, and said:
‘Perhaps it is better to speak frankly. Of course I understand you! The position is not a pleasant one. My father-in-law has been brutally murdered, and unless a case can be made out against the most likely suspect – Horbury – for robbery and murder – and it seems that it cannot – then it comes to this – one of his own family killed him. To bring that person to justice will mean bringing shame and disgrace on us all… If I am to speak honestly I must say that I do not want this to happen.’
Poirot said:
‘You are content for the murderer to escape unpunished?’
‘There are probably several undiscovered murderers at large in the world.’
‘That, I grant you.’
‘Does one more matter, then?’
Poirot said:
‘And what about the other members of the family? The innocent?’
She stared.
‘What about them?’
‘Do you realize that if it turns out as you hope, no one will ever know. The shadow will remain on all alike…’
She said uncertainly:
‘I hadn’t thought of that.’
Poirot said:
‘No one will ever know who the guilty person is…’
He added softly:
‘Unless you already know, madame?’
She cried out:
‘You have no business to say that! It’s not true! Oh! If only it could be a stranger – not a member of the family.’
Poirot said:
‘It might be both.’
She stared at him.
‘What do you mean?’
‘It might be a member of the family – and, at the same time, a stranger… You do not see what I mean? Eh bien, it is an idea that has occurred to the mind of Hercule Poirot.’
He looked at her.
‘Well, madame, what am I to say to Mr Lee?’
Lydia raised her hands and let them fall in a sudden helpless gesture.
She said:
‘Of course – you must accept.’
Pilar stood in the centre of the music-room. She stood very straight, her eyes darting from side to side like an animal who fears an attack.
She said:
‘I want to get away from here!’
Stephen Farr said gently:
‘You’re not the only one who feels like that. But they won’t let us go, my dear.’
‘You mean – the police?’
‘Yes.’
Pilar said very seriously:
‘It is not nice to be mixed up with the police. It is a thing that should not happen to respectable people.’
Stephen said with a faint smile:
‘Meaning yourself?’
Pilar said:
‘No, I mean Alfred and Lydia and David and George and Hilda and – yes – Magdalene too.’
Stephen lit a cigarette. He puffed at it for a moment or two before saying:
‘Why the exception?’
‘What is that, please?’
Stephen said:
‘Why leave out brother Harry?’
Pilar laughed, her teeth showing white and even.
‘Oh, Harry is different! I think he knows very well what it is to be mixed up with the police.’
‘Perhaps you are right. He certainly is a little too picturesque to blend well into the domestic picture.’
He went on:
‘Do you like your English relations, Pilar?’
Pilar said doubtfully:
‘They are kind – they are all very kind. But they do not laugh much, they are not gay.’
‘My dear girl, there’s just been a murder in the house!’
‘Y-es,’ said Pilar doubtfully.
‘A murder,’ said Stephen instructively, ‘is not such an everyday occurrence as your nonchalance seems to imply. In England they take their murders seriously whatever they may do in Spain.’
Pilar said:
‘You are laughing at me…’
Stephen said:
‘You’re wrong. I’m not in a laughing mood.’
Pilar looked at him and said:
‘Because you, too, wish to get away from here?’
‘Yes.’
‘And the big, handsome policeman will not let you go?’
‘I haven’t asked him. But if I did, I’ve no doubt he’d say no. I’ve got to watch my step, Pilar, and be very very careful.’
‘That is tiresome,’ said Pilar, nodding her head.
‘It’s just a little bit more than tiresome, my dear. Then there’s that lunatic foreigner prowling about. I don’t suppose he’s any good but he makes me feel jumpy.’
Pilar was frowning. She said:
‘My grandfather was very, very rich, was he not?’
‘I should imagine so.’
‘Where does his money go to now? To Alfred and the others?’
‘Depends on his will.’
Pilar said thoughtfully: ‘He might have left me some money, but I am afraid that perhaps he did not.’
Stephen said kindly:
‘You’ll be all right. After all, you’re one of the family. You belong here. They’ll have to look after you.’
Pilar said with a sigh: ‘I – belong here. It is very funny, that. And yet it is not funny at all.’
‘I can see that you mightn’t find it very humorous.’
Pilar sighed again. She said:
‘Do you think if we put on the gramophone, we could dance?’
Stephen said dubiously:
‘It wouldn’t look any too good. This is a house of mourning, you callous Spanish baggage.’
Pilar said, her big eyes opening very wide:
