III

Lunch was over.

As they came out of the dining room, Alfred said to Pilar:

“Will you come into my room? There is something I want to talk over with you.”

He led her across the hall and into his study, shutting the door after him. The others went oninto the drawing room. Only Hercule Poirot remained in the hall looking thoughtfully at the closedstudy door.

He was aware suddenly of the old butler hovering¹ uneasily near him.

Poirot said: “Yes, Tressilian, what is it?”

The old man seemed troubled. He said:

“I wanted to speak to Mr. Lee. But I don’t like to disturb him now.”

Poirot said: “Something has occurred?”

Tressilian said slowly:

“It’s such a queer thing. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Tell me,” said Hercule Poirot.

Tressilian hesitated. Then he said:

“Well, it’s this, sir. You may have noticed that each side of the front door there was a cannonball. Big heavy stone things. Well, sir, one of them’s gone.”

Hercule Poirot’s eyebrows² rose. He said; “Since when?”

“They were both there this morning, sir. I’ll take my oath on that.”

“Let me see.”

Together they went outside the front door. Poirot bent³ and examined the remaining cannonball. When he straightened himself, his face was very grave.

Tressilian quavered:

“Who’d want to steal a thing like that, sir? It doesn’t make sense.”

Poirot said: “I do not like it. I do not like it at all. .?.?.”

Tressilian was watching him anxiously. He said slowly:

“What’s come to the house, sir? Ever since the master was murdered it doesn’t seem like thesame place. I feel the whole time as though I was going about in a dream. I mix things up, and Isometimes feel I can’t trust my own eyes.”

Hercule Poirot shook his head. He said:

“You are wrong. Your own eyes are just what you must trust.”

Tressilian said, shaking his head:

“My sight’s bad—I can’t see like I used to do. I get things mixed up—and people. I’m gettingtoo old for my work.”

Hercule Poirot clapped him on the shoulder and said:

“Courage.”

“Thank you, sir. You mean it kindly⁴, I know. But there it is, I am too old. I’m always goingback to the old days and the old faces. Miss Jenny and Master David and Master Alfred. I’malways seeing them as young gentlemen and ladies. Ever since that night when Mr. Harry⁵ camehome—”

Poirot nodded.

“Yes,” he said, “that is what I thought. You said just now ‘Ever since the master wasmurdered’—but it began before that. It is ever since Mr. Harry came home, is it not, that thingshave altered and seemed unreal?”

The butler said:

“You’re quite right, sir. It was then. Mr. Harry always brought trouble into the house, even inthe old days.”

His eyes wandered back to the empty stone base.

“Who can have taken it, sir?” he whispered. “And why? It’s—it’s like a madhouse.”

Hercule Poirot said:

“It is not madness I am afraid of. It is sanity⁶! Somebody, Tressilian, is in great danger.”

He turned and reentered the house.

At that moment Pilar came out from the study. A red spot shone on either cheek. She held herhead high and her eyes glittered.

As Poirot came up to her, she suddenly stamped her foot and said: “I will not take it.”

Poirot raised his eyebrows. He said:

“What is it that you will not take, mademoiselle?”

Pilar said:

“Alfred has just told me that I am to have my mother’s share of the money my grandfatherleft.”

“Well?”

“I could not get it by law, he said. But he and Lydia and the others consider it should bemine. They say it is a matter of justice. And so they will hand it over to me.”

Poirot said again:

“Well?”

Pilar stamped once more with her foot.

“Do you not understand? They are giving it to me—giving it to me.”

“Need that hurt your pride? Since what they say is true—that it should in justice be yours?”

Pilar said:

“You do not understand. .?.?.”

Poirot said:

“On the contrary—I understand very well.”

“Oh! .?.?.” She turned away pettishly⁷.

There was a ring at the bell. Poirot glanced over his shoulder. He saw the silhouette⁸ ofSuperintendent Sugden outside the door. He said hurriedly to Pilar:

“Where are you going?”

She said sulkily:

“To the drawing room. To the others.”

Poirot said quickly:

“Good. Stay with them there. Do not wander about the house alone, especially after dark. Beon your guard. You are in great danger, mademoiselle. You will never be in greater danger thanyou are today.”

He turned away from her and went to meet Sugden.

The latter waited till Tressilian had gone back into his pantry.

Then he shoved a cable form under Poirot’s nose.

“Now we’ve got it!” he said. “Read that. It’s from the South African Police.”

The cable said:

“Ebenezer Farr’s only son died two years ago.”

Sugden said:

“So now we know! Funny—I was on a different tack⁹ altogether. .?.?.”

 

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