The old man seemed troubled. He said:
‘I wanted to speak to Mr Lee. But I don’t like to disturb him now.’
Poirot said: ‘Something has occurred?’
Tressilian said slowly:
‘It’s such a queer thing. It doesn’t make sense.’
‘Tell me,’ said Hercule Poirot.
Tressilian hesitated. Then he said:
‘Well, it’s this, sir. You may have noticed that each side of the front door there was a cannon ball. Big heavy stone things. Well, sir, one of them’s gone.’
Hercule Poirot’s eyebrows rose. He said; ‘Since when?’
‘They were both there this morning, sir. I’ll take my oath on that.’
‘Let me see.’
Together they went outside the front door. Poirot bent and examined the remaining cannon ball. When he straightened himself, his face was very grave.
Tressilian quavered:
‘Who’d want to steal a thing like that, sir? It doesn’t make sense.’
Poirot said: ‘I do not like it. I do not like it at all…’
Tressilian was watching him anxiously. He said slowly:
‘What’s come to the house, sir? Ever since the master was murdered it doesn’t seem like the same place. I feel the whole time as though I was going about in a dream. I mix things up, and I sometimes feel I can’t trust my own eyes.’
Hercule Poirot shook his head. He said:
‘You are wrong. Your own eyes are just what you must trust.’
Tressilian said, shaking his head:
‘My sight’s bad – I can’t see like I used to do. I get things mixed up – and people. I’m getting too old for my work.’
Hercule Poirot clapped him on the shoulder and said:
‘Courage.’
‘Thank you, sir. You mean it kindly, I know. But there it is, I am too old. I’m always going back to the old days and the old faces. Miss Jenny and Master David and Master Alfred. I’m always seeing them as young gentlemen and ladies. Ever since that night when Mr Harry came home–’
Poirot nodded.
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘that is what I thought. You said just now “Ever since the master was murdered” – but it began before that. It is ever since Mr Harry came home, is it not, that things have altered and seemed unreal?’
The butler said:
‘You’re quite right, sir. It was then. Mr Harry always brought trouble into the house, even in the old days.’
His eyes wandered back to the empty stone base.
‘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…’
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!’
