MURDER AT CHRISTMAS

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXVI, Issue 23275, 18 February 1939, Page 19 (Supplement)

MURDER AT CHRISTMAS

By AGATHA CHRISTIE

FINAL INSTALMENT—"Do you know those long pink bladders that are sold at fairs with faces painted on them - called 'dying pigs'P As the air rushes out they give forth an inhuman wail. That, Sugden, was your final touch. You arranged one of those in the room. The mouth of it was stopped up with a peg, but that peg was connected to the cord. When you pulled on the cord the peg came out and the pig began to deflate. On top of the falling furniture came the scream of the 'dying pig.' " He turned once more to the others. "You see now what it was that Pilar Estravados picked up? The superintendent had hoped to get thero in time to retrieve that little wisp of rubber beforo any one noticed it. However, lie took it from Pilar quickly enough in his most official manner. But remember, he never mentioned that incident to any one. In itself that was a singularly suspicious fact. I heard of it from Magdalene Lee and tackled him about it. Ho was prepared for that eventuality. He had snipped a piece from Mr. Leo's rubber sponge-bag and produced that together with a wooden peg. Superficially it answered to the same description-—a fragment of rubber and a piece of wood. It meant, as I realised at the time, absolutely nothing! But, fool that I was, I did not at once say: 'This means nothing so it cannot have been there, and Superintendent Sugden is lying. . .' No, I foolishly went on trying to find an explanation for it, Jt was not until Mademoiselle Estravados was playing with a balloon that burst, and she cried out that it must havo been a burst balloon she picked up in Simeon Lee's room, that I saw the truth. "You see now how everything fits in? The improbable struggle which is necessary to establish a false time of death. The locked door —so that nobody shall find the body too soon. The dying man's scream. The crime is now logical and reasonable.

"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 granddaughter, she had obviously no motive for the crime. Later, when lie overheard from the house her clear high voice calling out its remark about the balloon, he decided on desperate measures. Ho set that booby trap when we were at lunch. Luckily, almost by a miracle, it failed. . Thero was dead silence. Then Sugden said quietly: "When were you 6Ure?" Poirot said: "I was not quite 6ure till I brought home a false moustache and tried it on Simeon Lee's picture. Then—the face that looked at nle was yours." Sugden said: "Hot his soul in hell I I'm glad I did it!" ; Lvdia Lee said: "Pilar, I think you had better stay with us .until wo 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." Lvdia said, smiling: "I still call you Pilar, though I suppose your name is something else," "Yes, I am really Conchita Lopez." "Cortchita is a pretty name, too." "You aro really almost too nice, Lydia. But you don't need to be bothered by me. I am going to marry Stephen and wo aro 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 coino .back and stay with j'ou —perhaps for Christmas, and then we could have tho crackers and the burning raisins and those shiny things on a tree and the little snowmen?"

"Certainly you shall come and havo a real English Christmas."

"That will bo lovely. You see, Lydia, I feel that this year it was not a nice Christmas. . ."

Lydia caught her breath. She said: "No, it was not a nice Christmas. . ." Harrv said: "Well, good-byo, Alfred. Don't suppose you'll be troubled by seeing much of mo. I'm off to Hawaii. Always meant to live there if I had a bit of money."

Alfred said: "Good-bye, 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 tako a joke."

Harry said with relief: "Weil—so long." Alfred said: "David, Lvdia and I have decided :o sell up tiiis place. I thought per-

A my«tery story in which Hercule Poirot appears again.

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haps 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." George said: "Well, good-bye, Alfred. Good-bye, 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—father's son. One couldn't arrange for it all to be put to him, I suppose, that it would bo better if- he S leaded advanced Communist views and isliko 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 hristmas and bo really gay." George said: "Depends on the exchange." Magdalene said: "Darling, don't be mean." Alfred came out on the terrace. Lydia was bending over a stone sink. Sno 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 verv much?"

"No, I shall be clad. There are so many interesting tilings wo 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 Herculo 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 waft George doing after he telephoned. Why wouldn't ho say?" Lydia laughed. "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 vou making another gardenP" "Yes.''* "What is it this time?" "T 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 havo been velry to me." Lydia said: "Bub you Bee, Alfred, I love you. . Colonel Johnson said: "God bless my soul!" Then ho 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 8 the police coming top" Poirot said: "Even policemen havo private lives! Sugden was ft very proud man." Colonel Johnson shook his head. To relieve his feelings he kicked at the logs in the grate. Ho 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. . . THE END ANNOUNCING A NEW SERIAL. "TABLE TOP," By tho World-famous Novelist, EDEN PHILLPOTTS. ' In his recent work the author of "Yellow Sands" and very many other stories that nro likely to endure as long as tho Eng. iisll language is spoken, has surprised critics by his versatility. His name Is usually linked with Devonshire but his new 6tory starts in Peru and proceeds, later, to an Island on the equator where three young people, filled with tho spirit of adventure, seek some of the ancient treasures of tho Incas. Incidentally, an aired parrot plays an important part in tho narrative, This fascinating modern novel will commence daily publication in tho NEW ZEALAND HERALD on MONDAY NEXT.