XHarry Lee came into the room with a swagger. For a moment Poirot stared at him, frowning. Hehad a feeling that somewhere he had seen this man before. He noted² the features: the high-bridgednose, the arrogant³ poise⁴ of the head, the line of the jaw⁵; and he realized that though Harry¹ was abig man and his father had been a man of merely middle height, yet there had been a good deal ofresemblance between them.

He noted something else, too. For all his swagger, Harry Lee was nervous. He was carrying itoff with a swing, but the anxiety underneath⁷ was real enough.

“Well, gentlemen,” he said. “What can I tell you?”

Colonel Johnson said:

“We shall be glad of any light you can throw on the events of this evening.”

Harry Lee shook his head.

“I don’t know anything at all. It’s all pretty horrible and utterly⁸ unexpected.”

Poirot said:

“You have recently returned from abroad, I think, Mr. Lee?”

Harry turned to him quickly.

“Yes. Landed in England a week ago.”

Poirot said:

“You had been away a long time?”

Harry Lee lifted up his chin and laughed.

“You might as well hear straight away—someone will soon tell you! I’m the prodigal⁹ son,gentlemen! It’s nearly twenty years since I last set foot in this house.”

“But you returned—now. Will you tell us why?” asked Poirot.

With the same appearance of frankness Harry answered readily enough.

“It’s the good old parable¹⁰ still. I got tired of the husks that the swine do eat—or don’t eat, Iforget which. I thought to myself that the fatted calf¹¹ would be a welcome exchange. I had a letterfrom my father suggesting that I come home. I obeyed the summons and came. That’s all.”

Poirot said:

“You came for a short visit—or a long one?”

Harry said: “I came home—for good!”

“Your father was willing?”

“The old man was delighted.” He laughed again. The corners of his eyes crinkled engagingly.

“Pretty boring for the old man living here with Alfred! Alfred’s a dull stick—very worthy¹² and allthat, but poor company. My father had been a bit of a rip in his time. He was looking forward tomy company.”

“And your brother and his wife, were they pleased that you were to live here?”

Poirot asked the question with a slight lifting of his eyebrows¹³.

“Alfred? Alfred was livid with rage. Don’t know about Lydia. She was probably annoyed onAlfred’s behalf. But I’ve no doubt she’d be quite pleased in the end. I like Lydia. She’s adelightful woman. I should have got on with Lydia. But Alfred was quite another pair of shoes.”

He laughed again. “Alfred’s always been as jealous as hell of me. He’s always been the gooddutiful stay-at-home stick-in-the-mud son. And what was he going to get for it in the end?—whatthe good boy of the family always gets—a kick in the pants. Take it from me, gentlemen, virtuedoesn’t pay.” He looked from one face to another.

“Hope you’re not shocked by my frankness. But after all, it’s the truth you’re after. You’lldrag out all the family dirty linen¹⁴ into the light of day in the end. I might as well display minestraight away. I’m not particularly brokenhearted by my father’s death—after all, I hadn’t seen theold devil since I was a boy—but nevertheless he was my father and he was murdered. I’m all outfor revenge on the murderer.” He stroked his jawbone, watching them. “We’re rather hot onrevenge in our family. None of the Lees forget easily. I mean to make sure that my father’smurderer is caught and hanged.”

“I think you can trust us to do our best in that line, Mr. Lee,” said Sugden.

“If you don’t I shall take the law into my own hands,” said Harry Lee.

The chief constable¹⁵ said sharply:

“Have you any ideas on the subject of the murderer’s identity, then, Mr. Lee?”

Harry shook his head.

“No,” he said slowly. “No—I haven’t. You know it’s rather a jolt¹⁶. Because I’ve been thinkingabout it—and I don’t see that it can have been an outside job. .?.?.”

“Ah,” said Sugden, nodding his head.

“And if so,” said Harry Lee, “then someone here in the house killed him .?.?. But who thedevil could have done it? Can’t suspect the servants. Tressilian has been here since the year one.

The half-witted footman? Not on your life. Horbury, now, he’s a cool customer, but Tressiliantells me he was out at the pictures. So what do you come to? Passing over Stephen Farr (and whythe devil should Stephen Farr come all the way from South Africa and murder a total stranger?)there’s only the family. And for the life of me I can’t see one of us doing it. Alfred? He adoredFather. George? He hasn’t got the guts¹⁷. David? David’s always been a moon dreamer. He’d faintif he saw his own finger bleed. The wives? Women don’t go and slit¹⁸ a man’s throat in cold blood.

So who did? Blessed if I know. But it’s damned disturbing.”

Colonel Johnson cleared his throat—an official habit of his—and said:

“When did you last see your father this evening?”

“After tea. He’d just had a row with Alfred—about your humble¹⁹ servant. The old man was noend bucked²⁰ with himself. He always liked stirring up trouble. In my opinion, that’s why he keptmy arrival dark from the others. Wanted to see the fur fly when I blew in unexpectedly! That’swhy he talked about altering his will, too.”

Poirot stirred softly. He murmured:

“So your father mentioned his will?”

“Yes—in front of the whole lot of us, watching us like a cat to see how we reacted. Just toldthe lawyer chap to come over and see him about it after Christmas.”

Poirot asked:

“What changes did he contemplate²¹ making?”

Harry Lee grinned:

“He didn’t tell us that! Trust the old fox! I imagine—or shall we say I hoped—that thechange was to the advantage of your humble servant! I should imagine I’d been cut out of anyformer wills. Now, I rather fancy, I was to go back. Nasty blow for the others. Pilar, too—he’dtaken a fancy to her. She was in for something good, I should imagine. You haven’t seen her yet?

My Spanish niece. She’s a beautiful creature, Pilar—with the lovely warmth of the South—and itscruelty. Wish I wasn’t a mere⁶ uncle!”

“You say your father took to her?”

Harry nodded.

“She knew how to get round the old man. Sat up there with him a good deal. I bet she knewjust what she was after! Well, he’s dead now. No wills can be altered in Pilar’s favour—nor mineeither, worse luck.”

He frowned, paused a minute, and then went on with a change of tone.

“But I’m wandering from the point. You wanted to know what was the last time I saw myfather? As I’ve told you, it was after tea—might have been a little past six. The old man was ingood spirits then—a bit tired, perhaps. I went away and left him with Horbury. I never saw himagain.”

“Where were you at the time of his death?”

“In the dining room with brother Alfred. Not a very harmonious²² after-dinner session. Wewere in the middle of a pretty sharp argument when we heard the noise overhead. Sounded asthough ten men were wrestling up there. And then poor old Father screamed. It was like killing²³ apig. The sound of it paralysed Alfred. He just sat there with his jaw dropping. I fairly shook himback to life, and we started off upstairs. The door was locked. Had to break it open. Took somedoing, too. How the devil that door came to be locked, I can’t imagine! There was no one in theroom but Father, and I’m damned if anyone could have got away through the windows.”

Superintendent²⁴ Sugden said:

“The door was locked from the outside.”

“What?” Harry stared. “But I’ll swear the key was on the inside.”

Poirot murmured:

“So you noticed that?”

Harry Lee said sharply:

“I do notice things. It’s a habit of mine.”

He looked sharply from one face to the other.

“Is there anything more you want to know, gentlemen?”

Johnson shook his head.

“Thank you, Mr. Lee, not for the moment. Perhaps you will ask the next member of thefamily to come along?”

“Certainly I will.”

He walked to the door and went out without looking back.

The three men looked at each other.

Colonel Johnson said:

“What about it, Sugden?”

The superintendent shook his head doubtfully. He said:

“He’s afraid of something. I wonder why?. .?.?.”

 

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