Johnson said:
‘Will you describe briefly your own movements last night?’
‘Mine? Oh, I went away from the dinner-table fairly quickly. It bores me, this sitting round over port. Besides, I could see that Alfred and Harry were working up for a quarrel. I hate rows. I slipped away and went to the music-room and played the piano.’
Poirot asked:
‘The music-room, it is next to the drawing-room, is it not?’
‘Yes. I played there for some time—till—till the thing happened.’
‘What did you hear exactly?’
‘Oh! A far-off noise of furniture being overturned somewhere upstairs. And then a pretty ghastly cry.’ He clenched his hands again. ‘Like a soul in hell. God, it was awful!’
Johnson said:
‘Were you alone in the music-room?’
‘Eh? No, my wife, Hilda, was there. She’d come in from the drawing-room. We—we went up with the others.’
He added quickly and nervously:
‘You don’t want me, do you, to describe what—what I saw there?’
Colonel Johnson said:
‘No, quite unnecessary. Thank you, Mr Lee, there’s nothing more. You can’t imagine, I suppose, who would be likely to want to murder your father?’
David Lee said recklessly:
‘I should think—quite a lot of people! I don’t know of anyone definite.’
He went out rapidly, shutting the door loudly behind him.
XIII
Colonel Johnson had had no time to do mo
re than clear his throat when the door opened again and Hilda Lee came in.
Hercule Poirot looked at her with interest. He had to admit to himself that the wives these Lees had married were an interesting study. The swift intelligence and greyhound grace of Lydia, the meretricious airs and graces of Magdalene, and now, the solid comfortable strength of Hilda. She was, he saw, younger than her rather dowdy style of hair-dressing and unfashionable clothes made her appear. Her mouse-brown hair was unflecked with grey and her steady hazel eyes set in the rather podgy face shone out like beacons of kindliness. She was, he thought, a nice woman.
Colonel Johnson was talking in his kindliest tone.
‘…A great strain on all of you,’ he was saying. ‘I gather from your husband, Mrs Lee, that this is the first time you have been to Gorston Hall?’
She bowed her head.
‘Were you previously acquainted with your father-in-law, Mr Lee?’
Hilda replied in her pleasant voice:
‘No. We were married soon after David left home. He always wanted to have nothing to do with his family. Until now we have not seen any of them.’
‘How, then, did this visit come about?’
‘My father-in-law wrote to David. He stressed his age and his desire that all his children should be with him this Christmas.’