Hercule Poirot's Christmas: A Hercule Poirot Mystery (Hercule Poirot 20)

‘Why the exception?’

‘What is that, please?’

Stephen said:

‘Why leave out brother Harry?’

Pilar laughed, her teeth showing white and even.

‘Oh, Harry is different! I think he knows very well what it is to be mixed up with the police.’

‘Perhaps you are right. He certainly is a little too picturesque to blend well into the domestic picture.’

He went on:

‘Do you like your English relations, Pilar?’

Pilar said doubtfully:

‘They are kind—they are all very kind. But they do not laugh much, they are not gay.’

‘My dear girl, there’s just been a murder in the house!’

‘Y-es,’ said Pilar doubtfully.

‘A murder,’ said Stephen instructively, ‘is not such an everyday occurrence as your nonchalance seems to imply. In England they take their murders seriously whatever they may do in Spain.’

Pilar said:

‘You are laughing at me…’

Stephen said:

‘You’re wrong. I’m not in a laughing mood.’

Pilar looked at him and said:

‘Because you, too, wish to get away from here?’

‘Yes.’

‘And the big, handsome policeman will not let you go?’

‘I haven’t asked him. But if I did, I’ve no doubt he’d say no. I’ve got to watch my step, Pilar, and be very very careful.’

‘That is tiresome,’ said Pilar, nodding her head.

‘It’s just a little bit more than tiresome, my dear. Then there’s that lunatic foreigner prowling about. I don’t suppose he’s any good but he makes me feel jumpy.’

Pilar was frowning. She said:

‘My grandfather was very, very rich, was he not?’

‘I should imagine so.’

‘Where does his money go to now? To Alfred and the others?’

‘Depends on his will.’