Johnson said sharply: ‘And did he succeed?’

‘Oh, yes,’ said Hilda Lee. ‘He succeeded.’

Poirot said:

‘We have been told, madame, of a scene that took place this afternoon. It was, I think, rather a violent scene.’

She bowed her head.

‘Will you describe it to us – as truthfully as possible, if you please.’

She reflected a minute.

‘When we went in my father-in-law was telephoning.’

‘To his lawyer, I understand?’

‘Yes, he was suggesting that Mr – was it Charlton? – I don’t quite remember the name – should come over as he, my father-in-law, wanted to make a new will. His old one, he said, was quite out of date.’

Poirot said:

‘Think carefully, madame; in your opinion did your father-in-law deliberately ensure that you should all overhear this conversation, or was it just by chance that you overheard it?’

Hilda Lee said:

‘I am almost sure that he meant us to overhear.’

‘With the object of fomenting doubt and suspicions among you?’

‘Yes.’

‘So that, really, he may not have meant to alter his will at all?’

She demurred.

‘No, I think that part of it was quite genuine. He probably did wish to make a new will – but he enjoyed underlining the fact.’

‘Madame,’ said Poirot, ‘I have no official standing and my questions, you understand, are not perhaps those that an English officer of the law would ask. But I have a great desire to know what form you think that new will would have taken. I am asking, you perceive, not for your knowledge, but simply for your opinion. Les femmes, they are never slow to form an opinion, Dieu merci.’

Hilda Lee smiled a little.

‘I don’t mind saying what I think. My husband’s sister Jennifer married a Spaniard, Juan Estravados. Her daughter, Pilar, has just arrived here. She is a very lovely girl – and she is, of course, the only grandchild in the family. Old Mr Lee was delighted with her. He took a tremendous fancy to her. In my opinion, he wished to leave her a considerable sum in his new will. Probably he had only left her a small portion or even nothing at all in an old one.’

‘Did you know your sister-in-law at all?’

‘No, I never met her. Her Spanish husband died in tragic circumstances, I believe, soon after the marriage. Jennifer herself died a year ago. Pilar was left an orphan. This is why Mr Lee sent for her to come and live with him in England.’

‘And the other members of the family, did they welcome her coming?’

Hilda said quietly:

‘I think they all liked her. It was very pleasant to have someone young and alive in the house.’

‘And she, did she seem to like being here?’

Hilda said slowly:

‘I don’t know. It must seem cold and strange to a girl brought up in the South – in Spain.’

Johnson said:

‘Can’t be very pleasant being in Spain just at present. Now, Mrs Lee, we’d like to hear your account of the conversation this afternoon.’

Poirot murmured:

‘I apologize. I have made the digressions.’

Hilda Lee said: 

‘After my father-in-law finished telephoning, he looked round at us and laughed, and said we all looked very glum. Then he said he was tired and should go to bed early. Nobody was to come up and see him this evening. He said he wanted to be in good form for Christmas Day. Something like that.’

‘Then–’ Her brows knit in an effort of remembrance. ‘I think he said something about its being necessary to be one of a large family to appreciate Christmas, and then he went on to speak of money. He said it would cost him more to run this house in future. He told George and Magdalene they would have to economize. Told her she ought to make her own clothes. Rather an old-fashioned idea, I’m afraid. I don’t wonder it annoyed her. He said his own wife had been clever with her needle.’

Poirot said gently:

‘Is that all that he said about her?’

Hilda flushed.

‘He made a slighting reference to her brains. My husband was very devoted to his mother, and that upset him very much. And then, suddenly Mr Lee began shouting at us all. He worked himself up about it. I can understand, of course, how he felt–’

Poirot said gently, interrupting her:

‘How did he feel?’

She turned her tranquil eyes upon him. 

‘He was disappointed, of course,’ she said. ‘Because there are no grandchildren – no boys, I mean – no Lees to carry on. I can see that that must have festered for a long time. And suddenly he couldn’t keep it in any longer and vented his rage against his sons – saying they were a lot of namby-pamby old women – something like that. I felt sorry for him, then, because I realized how his pride was hurt by it.’

‘And then?’

‘And then,’ said Hilda slowly, ‘we all went away.’

‘That was the last you saw of him?’

She bowed her head.

‘Where were you at the time the crime occurred?’

‘I was with my husband in the music-room. He was playing to me.’

‘And then?’

‘We heard tables and chairs overturned upstairs, and china being broken – some terrible struggle. And then that awful scream as his throat was cut…’

Poirot said:

‘Was it such an awful scream? Was it’ – he paused – ‘like a soul in hell?’

Hilda Lee said:

‘It was worse than that!’

‘What do you mean, madame?’

‘It was like someonewho had no soul…It was inhuman like a beast…’ 

Poirot said gravely:

‘So – you have judged him, madame?’

She raised a hand in sudden distress. Her eyes fell and she stared down at the floor.

Pilar came into the room with the wariness of an animal who suspects a trap. Her eyes went quickly from side to side. She looked not so much afraid as deeply suspicious.

Colonel Johnson rose and put a chair for her. Then he said:

‘You understand English, I suppose, Miss Estravados?’

Pilar’s eyes opened wide. She said:

‘Of course. My mother was English. I am really very English indeed.’

A faint smile came to Colonel Johnson’s lips, as his eyes took in the black gloss of her hair, the proud dark eyes, and the curling red lips. Very English! An incongruous term to apply to Pilar Estravados.

He said:

‘Mr Lee was your grandfather. He sent for you to come from Spain. And you arrived a few days ago. Is that right?’

Pilar nodded. 

‘That is right. I had – oh! a lot of adventures getting out of Spain – there was a bomb from the air and the chauffeur he was killed – where his head had been there was all blood. And I could not drive a car, so for a long way I had to walk – and I do not like walking. I never walk. My feet were sore – but sore–’

Colonel Johnson smiled. He said:

‘At any rate you arrived here. Had your mother spoken to you of your grandfather much?’

Pilar nodded cheerfully.

‘Oh, yes, she said he was an old devil.’

Hercule Poirot smiled. He said:

‘And what did you think of him when you arrived, mademoiselle?’

Pilar said:

‘Of course he was very, very old. He had to sit in a chair – and his face was all dried up. But I liked him all the same. I think that when he was a young man, he must have been handsome – very handsome, like you,’ said Pilar to Superintendent Sugden. Her eyes dwelt with naive pleasure on his handsome face, which had turned brick-red at the compliment.

Colonel Johnson stifled a chuckle. It was one of the few occasions when he had seen the stolid superintendent taken aback.

‘But of course,’ Pilar continued regretfully, ‘he could never have been so big as you.’ 

Hercule Poirot sighed.

‘You like, then, big men, senorita?’ he inquired.

Pilar agreed enthusiastically.

‘Oh, yes, I like a man to be very big, tall, and the shoulders broad, and very, very strong.’

Colonel Johnson said sharply: