PART FIVE DECEMBER 26TH IV
Pilar stood in the centre of the music room. She stood very straight, her eyes darting1 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.”
“Why the exception?”
“What is that, please?”
Stephen said:
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 picturesque4 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
nonchalance5 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.”
“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.”
“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?”
Pilar said, her big eyes opening very wide:
“But I do not feel sad at all. Because I did not really know my grandfather, and though I liked
to talk to him, I do not want to cry and be unhappy because he is dead. It is very silly to pretend.”
Stephen said: “You’re adorable!”
“We could put some stockings and some gloves in the gramophone, and then it would not
make much noise, and no one would hear.”
“Come along then, temptress.”
of the house.
Then, as she reached the side passage which led to the garden door, she stopped dead.
Stephen caught up with her and stopped also.
Hercule Poirot had unhooked a portrait from the wall and was studying it by the light from
the terrace. He looked up and saw them.
Pilar said: “What are you doing?”
She came and stood beside him.
Poirot said gravely:
“I am studying something very important, the face of Simeon Lee when he was a young
man.”
“Oh, is that my grandfather?”
“Yes, mademoiselle.”
She stared at the painted face. She said slowly:
“How different—how very different . . . He was so old, so shrivelled up. Here he is like
Harry, like Harry might have been ten years ago.”
Hercule Poirot nodded.
“Yes, mademoiselle. Harry Lee is very much the son of his father. Now here—” He led her a
little way along the gallery. “Here is madame, your grandmother—a long gentle face, very blonde
hair, mild blue eyes.”
Pilar said:
“Like David.”
Stephen said:
“Just a look of Alfred too.”
Poirot said:
“The heredity, it is very interesting. Mr. Lee and his wife were diametrically opposite types.
On the whole, the children of the marriage took after the mother. See here, mademoiselle.”
He pointed13 to a picture of a girl of nineteen or so, with hair like spun14 gold and wide, laughing
“Oh!” said Pilar.
The colour came up in her face.
Her hand went to her neck. She drew out a locket on a long gold chain. She pressed the catch
and it flew open. The same laughing face looked up at Poirot.
“My mother,” said Pilar.
Poirot nodded. On the opposite side of the locket was the portrait of a man. He was young
and handsome, with black hair and dark blue eyes.
Poirot said: “Your father?”
Pilar said:
“Yes, my father. He is very beautiful, is he not?”
“Yes, indeed. Few Spaniards have blue eyes, have they, señorita?”
“Sometimes, in the North. Besides, my father’s mother was Irish.”
Poirot said thoughtfully:
“So you have Spanish blood, and Irish and English, and a touch of gipsy too. Do you know
what I think, mademoiselle? With that inheritance, you should make a bad enemy.”
Stephen said, laughing:
would be to cut their throats. Oh!”
He stopped—suddenly realizing the import of his words.
Hercule Poirot was quick to lead the conversation away. He said:
“Ah, yes, there was something, señorita, I had to ask you. Your passport. It is needed by my
friend the superintendent18. There are, you know, police regulations—very stupid, very tiresome,
but necessary—for a foreigner in this country. And of course, by law, you are a foreigner.”
“My passport? Yes, I will get it. It is in my room.”
Poirot said apologetically as he walked by her side:
“I am most sorry to trouble you. I am indeed.”
They had reached the end of the long gallery. Here was a flight of stairs. Pilar ran up and
Poirot followed. Stephen came too. Pilar’s bedroom was just at the head of the stairs.
She said as she reached the door: “I will get it for you.”
She went in. Poirot and Stephen Farr remained waiting outside.
Stephen said remorsefully20:
“Damn” silly of me to say a thing like that. I don’t think she noticed, though, do you?”
Poirot did not answer. He held his head a little on one side as though listening.
He said:
“The English are extraordinarily21 fond of fresh air. Miss Estravados must have inherited that
characteristic.”
Stephen said staring:
“Why?”
Poirot said softly:
“Because though it is today extremely cold—the black frost you call it (not like yesterday so
mild and sunny) Miss Estravados has just flung up her lower window sash. Amazing to love so
much the fresh air.”
Suddenly there was an exclamation22 in Spanish from inside the room and Pilar reappeared
laughingly dismayed.
“Ah!” she cried. “But I am stupid—and clumsy. My little case it was on the windowsill, and I
was sorting through it so quickly and very stupidly I knock my passport out of the window. It is
down on the flowerbed below. I will get it.”
“I’ll get it,” said Stephen, but Pilar had flown past him and cried back over her shoulder:
“No, it was my stupidity. You go to the drawing room with M. Poirot and I will bring it to
you there.”
Stephen Farr seemed inclined to go after her, but Poirot’s hand fell gently on his arm and
Poirot’s voice said:
“Let us go this way.”
They went along the first floor corridor towards the other end of the house until they got to
the head of the main staircase. Here Poirot said:
“Let us not go down for a minute. If you will come with me to the room of the crime there is
something I want to ask you.”
They went along the corridor which led to Simeon Lee’s room. On their left they passed an
Stephen Farr glanced at them and murmured:
night, but thank goodness there are only two!”
“They are not what is admired nowadays,” admitted Poirot. “But no doubt they cost much
money in their time. They look better by night, I think.”
“Yes, one sees only a white glimmering26 figure.”
Poirot murmured:
“All cats are grey in the dark!”
They found Superintendent Sugden in the room. He was kneeling by the safe and examining
it with a magnifying glass. He looked up as they entered.
“This was opened with the key all right,” he said. “By someone who knew the combination.
No sign of anything else.”
Poirot went up to him, drew him aside, and whispered something. The superintendent nodded
and left the room.
always sat. His brows were drawn28 together and the veins29 showed in his forehead. Poirot looked at
him for a minute or two in silence, then he said:
“You have the memories—yes?”
Stephen said slowly:
“Two days ago he sat there alive—and now . . .”
Then, shaking off his absorption, he said: “Yes, M. Poirot, you brought me here to ask me
something?”
“Ah, yes. You were, I think, the first person to arrive on the scene that night?”
“Was I? I don’t remember. No, I think one of the ladies was here before me.”
“Which lady?”
“One of the wives—George’s wife or David’s—I know they were both here pretty soon.”
“You did not hear the scream, I think you said?”
“I don’t think I did. I can’t quite remember. Somebody did cry out but that may have been
someone downstairs.”
Poirot said:
“You did not hear a noise like this?”
“For the Lord’s sake, do you want to scare the whole house? No, I didn’t hear anything in the
least like that! You’ll have the whole place by the ears again! They’ll think another murder has
happened!”
Poirot looked crestfallen32. He murmured:
“True . . . it was foolish . . . We must go at once.”
He hurried out of the room. Lydia and Alfred were at the foot of the stairs peering up—
George came out of the library to join them, and Pilar came running, a passport held in her hand.
Poirot cried:
“It is nothing—nothing. Do not be alarmed. A little experiment that I make. That was all.”
Alfred looked annoyed and George indignant. Poirot left Stephen to explain and he hurriedly
slipped away along the passage to the other end of the house.
At the end of the passage Superintendent Sugden came quietly out of Pilar’s door and met
Poirot.
“Eh bien?” asked Poirot.
The superintendent shook his head.
“Not a sound.”
His eyes met Poirot’s appreciatively and he nodded.
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1
darting
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的现在分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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2
puffed
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| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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3
harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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4
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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5
nonchalance
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| n.冷淡，漠不关心 | |
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6
tiresome
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| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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7
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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8
dubiously
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| adv.可疑地，怀疑地 | |
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9
callous
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| adj.无情的，冷淡的，硬结的，起老茧的 | |
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10
coaxingly
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| adv. 以巧言诱哄，以甘言哄骗 | |
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11
ballroom
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| n.舞厅 | |
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12
opportune
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| adj.合适的，适当的 | |
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13
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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14
spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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15
vivacity
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| n.快活，活泼，精神充沛 | |
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16
placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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17
dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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18
superintendent
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| n.监督人，主管，总监；(英国)警务长 | |
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19
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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20
remorsefully
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| adv.极为懊悔地 | |
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21
extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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22
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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23
alcove
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| n.凹室 | |
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24
propriety
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| n.正当行为；正当；适当 | |
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25
frightful
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| adj.可怕的；讨厌的 | |
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26
glimmering
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| n.微光，隐约的一瞥adj.薄弱地发光的v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的现在分词 ) | |
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27
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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28
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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29
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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30
vent
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| n.通风口，排放口；开衩；vt.表达，发泄 | |
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31
backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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32
crestfallen
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| adj. 挫败的，失望的，沮丧的 | |
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