you.
‘Well, Mr Lee at once took measures. He rang me up and had me come to see him. Then he sent word to you to come and see him immediately after dinner. You did so and he accused you of the theft. You denied it; he pressed the charge. I don’t know what happened next – perhaps he tumbled to the fact that you weren’t his granddaughter, but a very clever little professional thief. Anyway, the game was up, exposure loomed over you, and you slashed at him with a knife. There was a struggle and he screamed. You were properly up against it then. You hurried out of the room, turned the key from the outside and then, knowing you could not get away, before the others came,you slipped into the recess by the statues.’
Pilar cried shrilly:
‘It is not true! It is not true! I did not steal the diamonds! I did not kill him. I swear it by the Blessed Virgin.’
Sugden said sharply:
‘Then who did? You say you saw a figure standing outside Mr Lee’s door. According to your story, that person must have been the murderer. No one else passed the recess! But we’ve only your word for it that there was a figure there at all. In other words, you made that up to exculpate yourself!’
George Lee said sharply:
‘Of course she’s guilty! It’s all clear enough! I always said an outsider killed my father! Preposterous nonsense to pretend one of his family would do a thing like that! It – it wouldn’t be natural!’
Poirot stirred in his seat. He said:
‘I disagree with you. Taking into consideration the character of Simeon Lee, it would be a very natural thing to happen.’
‘Eh?’ George’s jaw dropped. He stared at Poirot.
Poirot went on:
‘And, in my opinion, that very thing did happen. Simeon Lee was killed by his own flesh and blood, for what seemed to the murderer a very good and sufficient reason.’
George cried: ‘One of us? I deny–’
Poirot’s voice broke in hard as steel.
‘There is a case against every person here. We will, Mr George Lee, begin with the case against you. You had no love for your father! You kept on good terms with him for the sake of money. On the day of his death he threatened to cut down your allowance. You knew that on his death you would probably inherit a very substantial sum. There is the motive. After dinner you went, as you say, to telephone. You did telephone – but the call lasted only five minutes. After that you could easily have gone to your father’s room, chatted with him, and then attacked him and killed him. You left the room and turned the key from outside, for you hoped the affair would be put down to a burglar. You omitted, in your panic, to make sure that the window was fully open so as to support the burglar theory. That was stupid; but you are, if you will pardon my saying so, rather a stupid man!
‘However,’ said Poirot, after a brief pause during which George tried to speak and failed, ‘many stupid men have been criminals!’
He turned his eyes on Magdalene.
‘Madame, too, she also had a motive. She is, I think, in debt, and the tone of certain of your father’s remarks may have caused her uneasiness. She, too, has no alibi. She went to telephone, but she did not telephone, and we have only her word for what she did do…
‘Then,’ he paused, ‘there is Mr David Lee. We have heard, not once but many times, of the revengeful tempers and long memories that went with the Lee blood. Mr David Lee did not forget or forgive the way his father had treated his mother. A final jibe directed at the dead lady may have been the last straw. David Lee is said to have been playing the piano at the time of the murder. By a coincidence he was playing the “Dead March”. But suppose somebody else was playing that “Dead March”, somebody who knew what he was going to do, and who approved his action?’
Hilda Lee said quietly:
‘That is an infamous suggestion.’
Poirot turned to her. ‘I will offer you another, madame. It was your hand that did the deed. It was you who crept upstairs to execute judgment on a man you considered beyond human forgiveness. You are of those, madame, who can be terrible in anger…’
Hilda said: ‘I did not kill him.’
Superintendent Sugden said brusquely:
‘Mr Poirot’s quite right. There is a possible case against everyone except Mr Alfred Lee, Mr Harry Lee, and Mrs Alfred Lee.’
Poirot said gently:
‘I should not even except those three…’
The superintendent protested: ‘Oh, come now, Mr Poirot!’
Lydia Lee said:
‘And what is the case against me, M. Poirot?’
She smiled a little as she spoke, her brows raised ironically.
Poirot bowed. He said:
‘Your motive, madame, I pass over. It is sufficiently obvious. As to the rest, you were wearing last night a flowered taffeta dress of a very distinctive pattern with a cape. I will remind you of the fact that Tressilian, the butler, is shortsighted. Objects at a distance are dim and vague to him. I will also point out that your drawing- room is big and lighted by heavily shaded lamps. On that night, a minute or two before the cries were heard, Tressilian came into the drawing-room to take away the coffee-cups. He saw you,as he thought, in a familiar attitude by the far window half concealed by the heavy curtains.’
Lydia Lee said: ‘He did see me.’
Poirot went on:
‘I suggest that it is possible that what Tressilian saw was the cape of your dress, arranged to show by the window curtain, as though you yourself were standing there.’
Lydia said: ‘I was standing there…’
Alfred said: ‘How dare you suggest– ?’
Harry interrupted him.
‘Let him go on, Alfred. It’s our turn next. How do you suggest that dear Alfred killed his beloved father since we were both together in the dining-room at the time?’
Poirot beamed at him.
‘That,’ he said, ‘is very simple. An alibi gains in force accordingly as it is unwillingly given. You and your brother are on bad terms. It is well known. You jibe at him in public. He has not a good word to say for you! But, supposing that were all part of a very clever plot. Supposing that Alfred Lee is tired of dancing attendance upon an exacting taskmaster. Supposing that you and he have got together some time ago. Your plan is laid. You come home. Alfred appears to resent your presence. He shows jealousy and dislike of you. You show contempt for him. And then comes the night of the murder you have so cleverly planned together. One of you remains in the dining- room, talking and perhaps quarrelling aloud as though two people were there.The other goes upstairs and commits the crime…’
Alfred sprang to his feet.
‘You devil!’ he said. His voice was inarticulate.
Sugden was staring at Poirot. He said:
‘Do you really mean– ?’
Poirot said, with a sudden ring of authority in his voice:
‘I have had to show you the possibilities! These are the things that might have happened! Which of them actually did happen we can only tell by passing from the outside appearance to the inside reality…’
He paused and then said slowly:
‘We must come back, as I said before, to the character of Simeon Lee himself…’
