‘It is nothing. I stabbed—no stubbed—the toe.’
He wheeled round and looked at the house.
He said:
‘So many windows! A house, mademoiselle, has its eyes—and its ears. It is indeed regrettable that the English are so fond of open windows.’
Lydia came out on the terrace. She said:
‘Lunch is just ready. Pilar, my dear, everything has been settled quite satisfactorily. Alfred will explain the exact details to you after lunch. Shall we come in?’
They went into the house. Poirot came last. He was looking grave.
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 on into the drawing-room. Only Hercule Poirot remained in the hall looking thoughtfully at the closed study door.
He was aware suddenly of the old butler hovering 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 cannon ball. Big heavy stone things. Well, sir, one of them’s gone.’
Hercule Poirot’s eyebrows 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 bent and examined the remaining cannon ball. 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: