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

The old man interrupted him.

‘Safety—safety—you play for safety too much, Alfred! Always have! That hasn’t been my way! Do what you want and be damned to it! That’s what I say! The girl’s my granddaughter—the only grandchild in the family! I don’t care what her father was or what he did! She’s my flesh and blood! And she’s coming to live here in my house.’

Lydia said sharply: ‘She’s coming to live here?’

He darted a quick look at her. ‘Do you object?’

She shook her head. She said smiling:

‘I couldn’t very well object to your asking someone to your own house, could I? No, I was wondering about—her.’

‘About her—what d’you mean?’

‘Whether she would be happy here.’

Old Simeon flung up his head.

‘She’s not got a penny in the world. She ought to be thankful!’

Lydia shrugged her shoulders.

Simeon turned to Alfred:

‘You see? It’s going to be a grand Christmas! All my children round me. All my children! There, Alfred, there’s your clue. Now guess who the other visitor is.’

Alfred stared at him.

‘All my children! Guess, boy! Harry, of course! Your brother Harry!’

Alfred had gone very pale. He stammered:

‘Harry—not Harry—’

‘Harry himself!’

‘But we thought he was dead!’

‘Not he!’

‘You—you are having him back here? After everything?’

‘The prodigal son, eh? You’re right. The fatted calf! We must kill the fatted calf, Alfred. We must give him a grand welcome.’

Alfred said:

‘He treated you—all of us—disgracefully. He—’

‘No need to recite his crimes! It’s a long list. But Christmas, you’ll remember, is the season of forgiveness! We’ll welcome the prodigal home.’

Alfred rose. He murmured:

‘This has been—rather a shock. I never dreamt that Harry would ever come inside these walls again.’

Simeon leaned forward.

‘You never liked Harry, did you?’ he said softly.

‘After the way he behaved to you—’