"But from the moment that Pilar Estravados cried aloud her discovery about the balloon, she was a source of danger to the murderer. And if that remark had been heard by him from the house (which it well might, for her voice was high and clear and the windows were open), she herself was in considerable danger. Already she had given the murderer one very nasty moment. She had said, speaking of old Mr. Lee, 'He must have been very good-looking when he was young.' And had added, speaking directly to Sugden: 'Like you.' She meant that literally, and Sugden knew it. No wonder Sugden went purple in the face and nearly choked. It was so unexpected and so deadly dangerous. He hoped, after that, to fix the guilt on her, but it proved unexpectedly difficult, since, as the old man's portionless granddaughter, she had obviously no motive for the crime. Later, when he overheard from the house her clear, high voice calling out its remark about the balloon, he decided on desperate measures. He set that booby trap when we were at lunch. Luckily, almost by a miracle, it failed. . . ."
There was dead silence. Then Sugden said quietly: "When were you sure?"
Poirot said: "I was not quite sure till I brought home a false moustache and tried it on Simeon Lee's picture. Then-the face that looked at me was yours."
Sugden said: "God rot his soul in hell! I'm glad I did it!"
PART SEVEN.
DECEMBER 28TH.
Lydia Lee said: "Pilar, I think you had better stay with us until we can arrange something definite for you."
Pilar said meekly: "You are very good, Lydia. You are nice. You forgive people quite easily without making a fuss about it."
Lydia said, smiling: "I still call you Pilar, though I suppose your name is something else."
"Yes, I am really Conchita Lopez."
"Conchita is a pretty name too."
"You are really almost too nice, Lydia. But you don't need to be bothered by me. I am going to marry Stephen, and we are going to South Africa."
Lydia said, smiling: "Well, that rounds off things very nicely."
Pilar said timidly: "Since you have been so kind, do you think, Lydia, that one day we might come back and stay with you-perhaps for Christmas-and then we could have the crackers and the burning raisins and those shiny things on a tree and the little snowmen?"
"Certainly, you shall come and have a real English Christmas."
"That will be lovely. You see, Lydia, I feel that this year it was not a nice Christmas at all."
Lydia caught her breath. She said: "No, it was not a nice Christmas. . . ."
II.
Harry said: "Well, goodbye, Alfred. Don't suppose you'll be troubled by seeing much of me. I'm off to Hawaii. Always meant to live there if I had a bit of money."
Alfred said: "Goodbye, Harry. I expect you'll enjoy yourself. I hope so."
Harry said rather awkwardly: "Sorry I riled you so much, old man. Rotten sense of humour I've got. Can't help trying to pull a fellow's leg."
Alfred said with an effort: "Suppose I must learn to take a joke."
Harry said with relief: "Well-so-long."
III.
Alfred said: "David, Lydia and I have decided to sell up this place. I thought perhaps you'd like some of the things that were our mother's-her chair and that footstool. You were always her favourite."
David hesitated a minute. Then he said slowly: "Thanks for the thought, Alfred, but do you know, I don't think I will. I don't want anything out of the house. I feel it's better to break with the past altogether."
Alfred said: "Yes, I understand. Maybe you're right."
IV.
George said: "Well, goodbye, Alfred. Goodbye, Lydia. What a terrible time we have been through. There's the trial coming on, too. I suppose the whole disgraceful story is bound to come out-Sugden being-er-my father's son. One couldn't arrange for it to be put to him, I suppose, that it would be better if he pleaded advanced Communist views and dislike of my father as a capitalist-something of that kind?"
Lydia said: "My dear George, do you really imagine that a man like Sugden would tell lies to soothe our feelings?"
George said: "Er-perhaps not. No, I see your point. All the same, the man must be mad. Well, good-bye again."
Magdalene said: "Good-bye. Next year do let's all go to the Riviera or somewhere for Christmas and be really gay."
George said: "Depends on the Exchange."
Magdalene said: "Darling, don't be mean."
V.
Alfred came out on the terrace. Lydia was bending over a stone sink. She straightened up when she saw him.
He said with a sigh: "Well-they've all gone."
Lydia said: "Yes-what a blessing."
"It is, rather."
Alfred said: "You'll be glad to leave here."
She asked: "Will you mind very much?"
"No, I shall be glad. There are so many interesting things we can do together. To live on here would be to be constantly reminded of that nightmare. Thank God it's all over!"
Lydia said: "Thanks to Hercule Poirot."
"Yes. You know, it was really amazing the way everything fell into place when he explained it."
"I know. Like when you finish a jigsaw puzzle and all the queer-shaped bits you swear won't fit in anywhere find their places quite naturally."
Alfred said: "There's one little thing that never fitted in. What was George doing after he telephoned? Why wouldn't he say?"
"Don't you know? I knew all the time. He was having a look through your papers on your desk."
"Oh! No, Lydia, no one would do a thing like that!"
"George would. He's frightfully curious about money matters. But of course he couldn't say so. He'd have had to be actually in the dock before he'd have owned up to that."
Alfred said: "Are you making another garden?"
"Yes."
"What is it this time?"
"I think," said Lydia, "it's an attempt at the Garden of Eden. A new version-without any serpent-and Adam and Eve are definitely middle-aged."
Alfred said gently: "Dear Lydia, how patient you have been all these years. You have been very good to me."
Lydia said: "But, you see, Alfred, I love you. . . ."
VI.
Colonel Johnson said: "God bless my soul!" Then he said: "Upon my word!" And finally, once more: "God bless my soul!
He leaned back in his chair and stared at Poirot. He said plaintively: "My best man! What's the police coming to?"
Poirot said: "Even policemen have private lives! Sugden was a very proud man."
Colonel Johnson shook his head.
To relieve his feelings he kicked at the logs in the grate. He said jerkily: "I always say-nothing like a wood fire."
Hercule Poirot, conscious of the draughts round his neck, thought to himself: "Pour moi, every time the central heating. . . ."
About the Author.
Agatha Christie is the most widely published author of all time and in any language, outsold only by the Bible and Shakespeare. Her books have sold more than a billion copies in English and another billion in a hundred foreign languages. She is the author of eighty crime novels and short-story collections, nineteen plays, two memoirs, and six novels written under the name Mary Westmacott.
She first tried her hand at detective fiction while working in a hospital dispensary during World War I, creating the now legendary Hercule Poirot with her debut novel The Mysterious Affair at Styles. With The Murder in the Vicarage, published in 1930, she introduced another beloved sleuth, Miss Jane Marple. Additional series characters include the husband-and-wife crime-fighting team of Tommy and Tuppence Beresford, private investigator Parker Pyne, and Scotland Yard detectives Superintendent Battle and Inspector Japp.
Many of Christie's novels and short stories were adapted into plays, films, and television series. The Mousetrap, her most famous play of all, opened in 1952 and is the longest-running play in history. Among her best-known film adaptations are Murder on the Orient Express (1974) and Death on the Nile (1978), with Albert Finney and Peter Ustinov playing Hercule Poirot, respectively. On the small screen Poirot has been most memorably portrayed by David Suchet, and Miss Marple by Joan Hickson and subsequently Geraldine McEwan and Julia McKenzie.
Christie was first married to Archibald Christie and then to archaeologist Sir Max Mallowan, whom she accompanied on expeditions to countries that would also serve as the settings for many of her novels. In 1971 she achieved one of Britain's highest honors when she was made a Dame of the British Empire. She died in 1976 at the age of eighty-five. Her one hundred and twentieth anniversary was celebrated around the world in 2010.
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www.AgathaChristie.com.
THE AGATHA CHRISTIE COLLECTION.
The Man in the Brown Suit.
The Secret of Chimneys The Seven Dials Mystery.
The Mysterious Mr. Quin The Sittaford Mystery.
Parker Pyne Investigates Why Didn't They Ask Evans?
Murder Is Easy.
The Regatta Mystery and Other Stories.
And Then There Were None Towards Zero.
Death Comes as the End.
Sparkling Cyanide The Witness for the Prosecution and Other Stories Crooked House Three Blind Mice and Other Stories.
They Came to Baghdad Destination Unknown.
Ordeal by Innocence Double Sin and Other Stories The Pale Horse Star over Bethlehem: Poems and Holiday Stories.
Endless Night Passenger to Frankfurt The Golden Ball and Other Stories.
The Mousetrap and Other Plays The Harlequin Tea Set and Other Stories The Hercule Poirot Mysteries The Mysterious Affair at Styles The Murder on the Links.
Poirot Investigates The Murder of Roger Ackroyd The Big Four The Mystery of the Blue Train Peril at End House Lord Edgware Dies Murder on the Orient Express Three Act Tragedy Death in the Clouds.
The A.B.C. Murders Murder in Mesopotamia Cards on the Table.
Murder in the Mews Dumb Witness Death on the Nile Appointment with Death.
Hercule Poirot's Christmas Sad Cypress One, Two, Buckle My Shoe Evil Under the Sun Five Little Pigs.
The Hollow The Labors of Hercules Taken at the Flood The Under Dog and Other Stories.
Mrs. McGinty's Dead After the Funeral Hickory Dickory Dock Dead Man's Folly Cat Among the Pigeons The Clocks Third Girl Hallowe'en Party.
Elephants Can Remember Curtain: Poirot's Last Case.
The Miss Marple Mysteries The Murder at the Vicarage The Body in the Library The Moving Finger A Murder Is Announced.
They Do It with Mirrors A Pocket Full of Rye 4:50 from Paddington.
The Mirror Crack'd from Side to Side A Caribbean Mystery At Bertram's Hotel.
Nemesis Sleeping Murder Miss Marple: The Complete Short Stories The Tommy and Tuppence Mysteries.
The Secret Adversary Partners in Crime N or M?.
By the Pricking of My Thumbs Postern of Fate.
Memoirs An Autobiography Come, Tell Me How You Live.
Copyright.