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 generosity¹ 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!”

Hilda said:

“The child seems quite upset.”

George cleared his throat and said portentously²:

“Er—as I pointed³ out this morning—the principle involved is wrong. Pilar has the wit to see

that for herself. She refuses to accept charity—”

Lydia said sharply:

“It is not charity. It is her right!”

George said:

“She does not seem to think so!”

Superintendent⁴ Sugden and Hercule Poirot came in. The former looked round and asked:

“Where’s Mr. Farr? I want a word with him.”

Before anyone had time to answer, Hercule Poirot said sharply:

“Where is the Señorita Estravados?”

George Lee said with a trace of

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