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

‘So that, really, he may not have meant to alter his will at all?’

She demurred.

‘No, I think that part of it was quite genuine. He probably did wish to make a new will—but he enjoyed underlining the fact.’

‘Madame,’ said Poirot, ‘I have no official standing and my questions, you understand, are not perhaps those that an English officer of the law would ask. But I have a great desire to know what form you think that new will would have taken. I am asking, you perceive, not for your knowledge, but simply for your opinion. Les femmes, they are never slow to form an opinion, Dieu merci.’

Hilda Lee smiled a little.

‘I don’t mind saying what I think. My husband’s sister Jennifer married a Spaniard, Juan Estravados. Her daughter, Pilar, has just arrived here. She is a very lovely girl—and she is, of course, the only grandchild in the family. Old Mr Lee was delighted with her. He took a tremendous fancy to her. In my opinion, he wished to leave her a considerable sum in his new will. Probably he had only left her a small portion or even nothing at all in an old one.’

‘Did you know your sister-in-law at all?’

‘No, I never met her. Her Spanish husband died in tragic circumstances, I believe, soon after the marriage. Jennifer herself died a year ago. Pilar was left an orphan. This is why Mr Lee sent for her to come and live with him in England.’

‘And the other members of the family, did they welcome her coming?’

Hilda said quietly:

‘I think they all liked her. It was very pleasant to have someone young and alive in the house.’

‘And she, did she seem to like being here?’

Hilda said slowly:

‘I don’t know. It must seem cold and strange to a girl brought up in the South—in Spain.’

Johnson said:

‘Can’t be very pleasant being in Spain just at present. Now, Mrs Lee, we’d like to hear your account of the conversation this afternoon.’

Poirot murmured:

‘I apologize. I have made the digressions.’

Hilda Lee said:

‘After my father-in-law finished telephoning, he looked round at us and laughed, and said we all looked very glum. Then he said he was tired and should go to bed early. Nobody was to come up and see him this evening. He said he wanted to be in good form for Christmas Day. Something like that.’

‘Then—’ Her brows knit in an effort of remembrance. ‘I think he said something about its being necessary to be one of a large family to appreciate Christmas, and then he went on to speak of money. He said it would cost him more to run this house in future. He told George and Magdalene they would have to economize. Told her she ought to make her own clothes. Rather an old-fashioned idea, I’m afraid. I don’t wonder it annoyed her. He said his own wife had been clever with her needle.’

Poirot said gently:

‘Is that all that he said about her?’

Hilda flushed.

‘He made a slighting reference to her brains. My husband was very devoted to his mother, and that upset him very much. And then, suddenly Mr Lee began shouting at us all. He worked himself up about it. I can understand, of course, how he felt—’

Poirot said gently, interrupting her:

‘How did he feel?’

She turned her tranquil eyes upon him.

‘He was disappointed, of course,’ she said. ‘Because there are no grandchildren—no boys, I mean—no Lees to carry on. I can see that that must have festered for a long time. And suddenly he couldn’t keep it in any longer and vented his rage against his sons—saying they were a lot of namby-pamby old women—something like that. I felt sorry for him, then, because I realized how his pride was hurt by it.’

‘And then?’