Hercule Poirot's Christmas: A Hercule Poirot Mystery Read online

  David disengaged his arm and opened another door.

  ‘There used to be a piano in here…Oh, yes, here it is! I wonder if it’s in tune.’

  He sat down and opened the lid, running his hands lightly over the keys.

  ‘Yes, it’s evidently kept tuned.’

  He began to play. His touch was good, the melody flowed out from under his fingers.

  Hilda asked: ‘What is that? I seem to know it, and I can’t quite remember.’

  He said: ‘I haven’t played it for years. She used to play it. One of Mendelssohn’s Songs Without Words.’

  The sweet, over-sweet, melody filled the room. Hilda said:

  ‘Play some Mozart, do.’

  David shook his head. He began another Mendelssohn.

  Then suddenly he brought his hands down upon the keys in a harsh discord. He got up. He was trembling all over. Hilda went to him.

  She said: ‘David—David.’

  He said: ‘It’s nothing—it’s nothing…’

  IV

  The bell pealed aggressively. Tressilian rose from his seat in the pantry and went slowly out and along to the door.

  The bell pealed again. Tressilian frowned. Through the frosted glass of the door he saw the silhouette of a man wearing a slouch hat.

  Tressilian passed a hand over his forehead. Something worried him. It was as though everything was happening twice.

  Surely this had happened before. Surely—

  He drew back the latch and opened the door.

  Then the spell broke. The man standing there said:

  ‘Is this where Mr Simeon Lee lives?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘I’d like to see him, please.’

  A faint echo of memory awoke in Tressilian. It was an intonation of voice that he remembered from the old days when Mr Lee was first in England.

  Tressilian shook his head dubiously.

  ‘Mr Lee is an invalid, sir. He doesn’t see many people now. If you—’

  The stranger interrupted.

  He drew out an envelope and handed it to the butler.

  ‘Please give this to Mr Lee.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  V

  Simeon Lee took the envelope. He drew out the single sheet of paper it held. He looked surprised. His eyebrows rose, but he smiled.

  ‘By all that’s wonderful!’ he said.

  Then to the butler: ‘Show Mr Farr up here, Tressilian.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Simeon said: ‘I was just thinking of old Ebenezer Farr. He was my partner out there in Kimberley. Now here’s his son come along!’

  Tressilian reappeared. He announced: ‘Mr Farr.’

  Stephen Farr came in with a trace of nervousness. He disguised it by putting on a little extra swagger. He said—and just for the moment his South African accent was more marked than usual: ‘Mr Lee?’

  ‘I’m glad to see you. So you’re Eb’s boy?’

  Stephen Farr grinned rather sheepishly.

  He said: ‘My first visit to the old country. Father always told me to look you up if I did come.’

  ‘Quite right.’ The old man looked round. ‘This is my granddaughter, Pilar Estravados.’

  ‘How do you do?’ said Pilar demurely.

  Stephen Farr thought with a touch of admiration:

  ‘Cool little devil. She was surprised to see me, but it only showed for a flash.’

  He said, rather heavily: ‘I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Estravados.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Pilar.

  Simeon Lee said: ‘Sit down and tell me all about yourself. Are you in England for long?’

  ‘Oh, I shan’t hurry myself now I’ve really got here!’

  He laughed, throwing his head back.

  Simeon Lee said: ‘Quite right. You must stay here with us for a while.’

  ‘Oh, look here, sir. I can’t butt in like that. It’s only two days to Christmas.’

  ‘You must spend Christmas with us—unless you’ve got other plans?’

  ‘Well, no, I haven’t, but I don’t like—’

  Simeon said: ‘That’s settled.’ He turned his head. ‘Pilar?’

  ‘Yes, Grandfather.’

  ‘Go and tell Lydia we shall have another guest. Ask her to come up here.’

  Pilar left the room. Stephen’s eyes followed her. Simeon noted the fact with amusement.

  He said: ‘You’ve come straight here from South Africa?’

  ‘Pretty well.’

  They began to talk of that country.

  Lydia entered a few minutes later.

  Simeon said: ‘This is Stephen Farr, son of my old friend and partner, Ebenezer Farr. He’s going to be with us for Christmas if you can find room for him.’

  Lydia smiled.

  ‘Of course.’ Her eyes took in the stranger’s appearance. His bronzed face and blue eyes and the easy backward tilt of his head.

  ‘My daughter-in-law,’ said Simeon.

  Stephen said: ‘I feel rather embarrassed—butting in on a family party like this.’

  ‘You’re one of the family, my boy,’ said Simeon. ‘Think of yourself as that.’

  ‘You’re too kind, sir.’

  Pilar re-entered the room. She sat down quietly by the fire and picked up the hand screen. She used it as a fan, slowly tilting her wrist to and fro. Her eyes were demure and downcast.

  Part 3

  December 24th

  ‘Do you really want me to stay on here, Father?’ asked Harry. He tilted his head back. ‘I’m stirring up rather a hornet’s nest, you know.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Simeon sharply.

  ‘Brother Alfred,’ said Harry. ‘Good brother Alfred! He, if I may say so, resents my presence here.’

  ‘The devil he does!’ snapped Simeon. ‘I’m master in this house.’

  ‘All the same, sir, I expect you’re pretty dependent on Alfred. I don’t want to upset—’

  ‘You’ll do as I tell you,’ snapped his father.

  Harry yawned.

  ‘Don’t know that I shall be able to stick a stay-at-home life. Pretty stifling to a fellow who’s knocked about the world.’

  His father said: ‘You’d better marry and settle down.’

  Harry said: ‘Who shall I marry? Pity one can’t marry one’s niece. Young Pilar is devilish attractive.’

  ‘You’ve noticed that?’

  ‘Talking of settling down, fat George has done well for himself as far as looks go. Who was she?’

  Simeon shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘How should I know? George picked her up at a mannequin parade, I believe. She says her father was a retired naval officer.’

  Harry said:

  ‘Probably a second mate of a coasting steamer. George will have a bit of trouble with her if he’s not careful.’

  ‘George,’ said Simeon Lee, ‘is a fool.’

  Harry said: ‘What did she marry him for—his money?’

  Simeon shrugged his shoulders.

  Harry said: ‘Well, you think that you can square Alfred all right?’

  ‘We’ll soon settle that,’ said Simeon grimly.

  He touched a bell that stood on a table near him.

  Horbury appeared promptly. Simeon said:

  ‘Ask Mr Alfred to come here.’

  Horbury went out and Harry drawled:

  ‘That fellow listens at doors!’

  Simeon shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘Probably.’

  Alfred hurried in. His face twitched when he saw his brother. Ignoring Harry, he said pointedly:

  ‘You wanted me, Father?’

  ‘Yes, sit down. I was just thinking we must reorganize things a bit now that we have two more people living in the house.’

  ‘Two?’

  ‘Pilar will make her home here, naturally. And Harry is home for good.’

  Alfred said: ‘Harry is coming to live here?’

  ‘Why not, old boy?’ said Harry.
>
  Alfred turned sharply to him.

  ‘I should think that you yourself would see that!’

  ‘Well, sorry—but I don’t.’

  ‘After everything that has happened? The disgraceful way you behaved. The scandal—’

  Harry waved an easy hand.

  ‘All that’s in the past, old boy.’

  ‘You behaved abominably to Father, after all he’s done for you.’

  ‘Look here, Alfred, it strikes me that’s Father’s business, not yours. If he’s willing to forgive and forget—’

  ‘I’m willing,’ said Simeon. ‘Harry’s my son, after all, you know, Alfred.’

  ‘Yes, but—I resent it—for Father’s sake.’

  Simeon said: ‘Harry’s coming here! I wish it.’ He laid a hand gently on the latter’s shoulder. ‘I’m very fond of Harry.’

  Alfred got up and left the room. His face was white. Harry rose too and went after him, laughing.

  Simeon sat chuckling to himself. Then he started and looked round. ‘Who the devil’s that? Oh, it’s you, Horbury. Don’t creep about that way.’

  ‘I beg your pardon, sir.’

  ‘Never mind. Listen, I’ve got some orders for you. I want everybody to come up here after lunch—everybody.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘There’s something else. When they come, you come with them. And when you get half-way along the passage raise your voice so that I can hear. Any pretext will do. Understand?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Horbury went downstairs. He said to Tressilian:

  ‘If you ask me, we are going to have a Merry Christmas.’

  Tressilian said sharply: ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘You wait and see, Mr Tressilian. It’s Christmas Eve today, and a nice Christmas spirit abroad—I don’t think!’

  II

  They came into the room and paused at the doorway.

  Simeon was speaking into the telephone. He waved a hand to them.

  ‘Sit down, all of you. I shan’t be a minute.’

  He went on speaking into the telephone.

  ‘Is that Charlton, Hodgkins & Bruce? Is that you, Charlton? Simeon Lee speaking. Yes, isn’t it?…Yes…No, I wanted you to make a new will for me…Yes, it’s some time since I made the other…Circumstances have altered…Oh no, no hurry. Don’t want you to spoil your Christmas. Say Boxing Day or the day after. Come along, and I’ll tell you what I want done. No, that’s quite all right. I shan’t be dying just yet.’

  He replaced the receiver, then looked round at the eight members of his family. He cackled and said:

  ‘You’re all looking very glum. What is the matter?’

  Alfred said: ‘You sent for us…’

  Simeon said quickly: ‘Oh, sorry—nothing portentous about it. Did you think it was a family council? No, I’m just rather tired today, that’s all. None of you need come up after dinner. I shall go to bed. I want to be fresh for Christmas Day.’

  He grinned at them. George said earnestly:

  ‘Of course…of course…’

  Simeon said: ‘Grand old institution, Christmas. Promotes solidarity of family feeling. What do you think, Magdalene, my dear?’

  Magdalene Lee jumped. Her rather silly little mouth flew open and then shut itself. She said: ‘Oh—oh, yes!’

  Simeon said: ‘Let me see, you lived with a retired naval officer’—he paused—‘your father. Don’t suppose you made much of Christmas. It needs a big family for that!’

  ‘Well—well—yes, perhaps it does.’

  Simeon’s eyes slid past her.

  ‘Don’t want to talk of anything unpleasant at this time of year, but you know, George, I’m afraid I’ll have to cut down your allowance a bit. My establishment here is going to cost me a bit more to run in future.’

  George got very red.

  ‘But look here, Father, you can’t do that!’

  Simeon said softly: ‘Oh, can’t I!’

  ‘My expenses are very heavy already. Very heavy. As it is, I don’t know how I make both ends meet. It needs the most rigorous economy.’

  ‘Let your wife do a bit more of it,’ said Simeon. ‘Women are good at that sort of thing. They often think of economies where a man would never have dreamt of them. And a clever woman can make her own clothes. My wife, I remember, was clever with her needle. About all she was clever with—a good woman, but deadly dull—’

  David sprang up. His father said:

  ‘Sit down, boy, you’ll knock something over—’

  David said: ‘My mother—’

  Simeon said: ‘Your mother had the brains of a louse! And it seems to me she’s transmitted those brains to her children.’ He raised himself up suddenly. A red spot appeared on each cheek. His voice came high and shrill. ‘You’re not worth a penny piece, any of you! I’m sick of you all! You’re not men! You’re weaklings—a set of namby-pamby weaklings. Pilar’s worth any two of you put together! I’ll swear to heaven I’ve got a better son somewhere in the world than any of you, even if you are born the right side of the blanket!’

  ‘Here, Father, hold hard,’ cried Harry.

  He had jumped up and stood there, a frown on his usually good-humoured face. Simeon snapped:

  ‘The same goes for you! What have you ever done? Whined to me for money from all over the world! I tell you I’m sick of the sight of you all! Get out!’

  He leaned back in his chair, panting a little.

  Slowly, one by one, his family went out. George was red and indignant. Magdalene looked frightened. David was pale and quivering. Harry blustered out of the room. Alfred went like a man in a dream. Lydia followed him with her head held high. Only Hilda paused in the doorway and came slowly back.

  She stood over him, and he started when he opened his eyes and found her standing there. There was something menacing in the solid way she stood there quite immovably.

  He said irritably: ‘What is it?’

  Hilda said: ‘When your letter came I believed what you said—that you wanted your family round you for Christmas, I persuaded David to come.’

  Simeon said: ‘Well, what of it?’

  Hilda said slowly: ‘You did want your family round you—but not for the purpose you said! You wanted them there, didn’t you, in order to set them all by the ears? God help you, it’s your idea of fun!’

  Simeon chuckled. He said: ‘I always had rather a specialized sense of humour. I don’t expect anyone else to appreciate the joke. I’m enjoying it!’

  She said nothing. A vague feeling of apprehension came over Simeon Lee. He said sharply:

  ‘What are you thinking about?’

  Hilda Lee said slowly: ‘I’m afraid…’

  Simeon said: ‘You’re afraid—of me?’

  Hilda said: ‘Not of you. I’m afraid—for you!’

  Like a judge who has delivered sentence, she turned away. She marched, slowly and heavily, out of the room…

  Simeon sat staring at the door.

  Then he got to his feet and made his way over to the safe. He murmured: ‘Let’s have a look at my beauties.’

  III

  The doorbell rang about a quarter to eight.

  Tressilian went to answer it. he returned to his pantry to find Horbury there, picking up the coffee-cups off the tray and looking at the mark on them.

  ‘Who was it?’ said Horbury.

  ‘Superintendent of Police—Mr Sugden—mind what you’re doing!’

  Horbury had dropped one of the cups with a crash.

  ‘Look at that now,’ lamented Tressilian. ‘Eleven years I’ve had the washing up of those and never one broken, and now you come along touching things you’ve no business to touch, and look what happens!’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mr Tressilian. I am indeed,’ the other apologized. His face was covered with perspiration. ‘I don’t know how it happened. Did you say a Superintendent of Police had called?’

  ‘Yes—Mr Sugden.’

  The valet passed a tongue over pal
e lips.

  ‘What—what did he want?’

  ‘Collecting for the Police Orphanage.’

  ‘Oh!’ The valet straightened his shoulders. In a more natural voice he said:

  ‘Did he get anything?’

  ‘I took up the book to old Mr Lee, and he told me to fetch the superintendent up and to put the sherry on the table.’

  ‘Nothing but begging, this time of year,’ said Horbury. ‘The old devil’s generous, I will say that for him, in spite of his other failings.’

  Tressilian said with dignity:

  ‘Mr Lee has always been an open-handed gentleman.’

  Horbury nodded.

  ‘It’s the best thing about him! Well, I’ll be off now.’

  ‘Going to the pictures?’

  ‘I expect so. Ta-ta, Mr Tressilian.’

  He went through the door that led to the servants’ hall.

  Tressilian looked up at the clock hanging on the wall.

  He went into the dining-room and laid the rolls in the napkins.

  Then, after assuring himself that everything was as it should be, he sounded the gong in the hall.

  As the last note died away the police superintendent came down the stairs. Superintendent Sugden was a large handsome man. He wore a tightly buttoned blue suit and moved with a sense of his own importance.

  He said affably: ‘I rather think we shall have a frost tonight. Good thing: the weather’s been very unseasonable lately.’

  Tressilian said, shaking his head:

  ‘The damp affects my rheumatism.’

  The superintendent said that the rheumatism was a painful complaint, and Tressilian let him out by the front door.

  The old butler refastened the door and came back slowly into the hall. He passed his hand over his eyes and sighed. Then he straightened his back as he saw Lydia pass into the drawing-room. George Lee was just coming down the stairs.

  Tressilian hovered ready. When the last guest, Magdalene, had entered the drawing-room, he made his own appearance, murmuring:

  ‘Dinner is served.’

  In his way Tressilian was a connoisseur of ladies’ dress. He always noted and criticized the gowns of the ladies as he circled round the table, decanter in hand.

  Mrs Alfred, he noted, had got on her new flowered black and white taffeta. A bold design, very striking, but she could carry it off, though many ladies couldn’t. The dress Mrs George had on was a model, he was pretty sure of that. Must have cost a pretty penny. He wondered how Mr George would like paying for it! Mr George didn’t like spending money—he never had. Mrs David now: a nice lady, but didn’t have any idea of how to dress. For her figure, plain black velvet would have been the best. Figured velvet, and crimson at that, was a bad choice. Miss Pilar, now, it didn’t matter what she wore, with her figure and her hair she looked well in anything. A flimsy cheap little white gown it was, though. Still, Mr Lee would soon see to that! Taken to her wonderful, he had. Always was the same way when a gentleman was elderly. A young face could do anything with him!