Hercule Poirot - Christie Agatha (лучшие книги без регистрации TXT) 📗

She smiled at him. He went on, warmed by the presence of her youth and strong femininity.

‘George? What’s George? A stick! A stuffed codfish! a pompous windbag with no brains and no guts-and mean about money as well! David? David always was a fool-a fool and a dreamer. His mother’s boy, that was always David. Only sensible thing he ever did was to marry that solid comfortable-looking woman.’ He brought down his hand with a bang on the edge of his chair. ‘Harry’s the best of ’em! Poor old Harry, the wrong ’un! But at any rate he’salive!’ 

Pilar agreed.

‘Yes, he is nice. He laughs-laughs out loud-and throws his head back. Oh, yes, I like him very much.’

The old man looked at her.

‘You do, do you, Pilar? Harry always had a way with the girls. Takes after me there.’ He began to laugh, a slow wheezy chuckle. ‘I’ve had a good life-a very good life. Plenty of everything.’

Pilar said:

‘In Spain we have a proverb. It is like this:

‘Take what you like and pay for it, says God.’

Simeon beat an appreciative hand on the arm of his chair.

‘That’s good. That’s the stuff. Take what you like…I’ve done that-all my life-taken what I wanted…’

Pilar said, her voice high and clear, and suddenly arresting:

‘And you have paid for it?’

Simeon stopped laughing to himself. He sat up and stared at her. He said, ‘What’s that you say?’

‘I said, have you paid for it, Grandfather?’

Simeon Lee said slowly:

‘I-don’t know…’

Then, beating his fist on the arm of the chair, he cried out with sudden anger:

‘What makes you say that, girl? What makes you say that?’ 

Pilar said:

‘I-wondered.’

Her hand, holding the screen, was arrested. Her eyes were dark and mysterious. She sat, her head thrown back, conscious of herself, of her womanhood.

Simeon said:

‘You devil’s brat…’

She said softly:

‘But you like me, Grandfather. You like me to sit here with you.’

Simeon said: ‘Yes, I like it. It’s a long time since I’ve seen anything so young and beautiful…It does me good, warms my old bones…And you’re my own flesh and blood…Good for Jennifer, she turned out to be the best of the bunch after all!’

Pilar sat there smiling.

‘Mind you, you don’t fool me,’ said Simeon. ‘I know why you sit here so patiently and listen to me droning on. It’s money-it’s all money…Or do you pretend you love your old grandfather?’

Pilar said: ‘No, I do not love you. But I like you. I like you very much. You must believe that, for it is true. I think you have been wicked, but I like that too. You are more real than the other people in this house. And you have interesting things to say. You have travelled and you have led a life of adventure. If I were a man I would be like that, too.’ 

Simeon nodded.

‘Yes, I believe you would…We’ve gipsy blood in us, so it’s always been said. It hasn’t shown much in my children-except Harry-but I think it’s come out in you. I can be patient, mind you, when it’s necessary. I waited once fifteen years to get even with a man who’d done me an injury. That’s another characteristic of the Lees-they don’t forget! They’ll avenge a wrong if they have to wait years to do it. A man swindled me. I waited fifteen years till I saw my chance-and then I struck. I ruined him. Cleaned him right out!’

He laughed softly.

Pilar said:

‘That was in South Africa?’

‘Yes. A grand country.’

‘You have been back there, yes?’

‘I went back last five years after I married. That was the last time.’

‘But before that? You were there for many years?’

‘Yes.’

‘Tell me about it.’

He began to talk. Pilar, shielding her face, listened.

His voice slowed, wearied. He said:

‘Wait, I’ll show you something.’

He pulled himself carefully to his feet. Then, with his stick, he limped slowly across the room. He opened the big safe. Turning, he beckoned her to him. 

‘There, look at these. Feel them, let them run through your fingers.’

He looked into her wondering face and laughed.

‘Do you know what they are? Diamonds, child, diamonds.’

Pilar’s eyes opened. She said as she bent over:

‘But they are little pebbles, that is all.’

Simeon laughed.

‘They are uncut diamonds. That is how they are found-like this.’

Pilar asked incredulously:

‘And if they were cut they would be real diamonds?’

‘Certainly.’

‘They would flash and sparkle?’

‘Flash and sparkle.’

Pilar said childishly:

‘O-o-o, I cannot believe it!’

He was amused.

‘It’s quite true.’

‘They are valuable?’

‘Fairly valuable. Difficult to say before they are cut. Anyway, this little lot is worth several thousands of pounds.’

Pilar said with a space between each word:

‘Several-thousands-of-pounds?’

‘Say nine or ten thousands-they’re biggish stones, you see.’ 

Pilar asked, her eyes opening:

‘But why do you not sell them, then?’

‘Because I like to have them here.’

‘But all that money?’

‘I don’t need the money.’

‘Oh-I see,’ Pilar looked impressed.

She said:

‘But why do you not have them cut and made beautiful?’

‘Because I prefer them like this.’ His face was set in a grim line. He turned away and began speaking to himself. ‘They take me back-the touch of them, the feel of them through my fingers…It all comes back to me, the sunshine, and the smell of the veldt, the oxen-old Eb-all the boys-the evenings…’

There was a soft tap on the door.

Simeon said: ‘Put ’em back in the safe and bang it to.’

Then he called: ‘Come in.’

Horbury came in, soft and deferential.

He said: ‘Tea is ready downstairs.’

Hilda said: ‘So there you are, David. I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Don’t let’s stay in this room, it’s so frightfully cold.’

David did not answer for a minute. He was standing looking at a chair, a low chair with faded satin upholstery. He said abruptly:

‘That’s her chair…the chair she always sat in…just the same-it’s just the same. Only faded, of course.’

A little frown creased Hilda’s forehead. She said:

‘I see. Do let’s come out of here, David. It’s frightfully cold.’

David took no notice. Looking round, he said:

‘She sat in here mostly. I remember sitting on that stool there while she read to me.Jack the Giant Killer -that was it-Jack the Giant Killer. I must have been six years old then.’

Hilda put a firm hand through his arm.

‘Come back to the drawing-room, dear. There’s no heating in this room.’

He turned obediently, but she felt a little shiver go through him.

‘Just the same,’ he murmured. ‘Just the same. As though time had stood still.’ 

Hilda looked worried. She said in a cheerful determined voice:

‘I wonder where the others are? It must be nearly tea-time.’

David disengaged his arm and opened another door.

‘There used to be a piano in here…Oh, yes, here it is! I wonder if it’s in tune.’

He sat down and opened the lid, running his hands lightly over the keys.

‘Yes, it’s evidently kept tuned.’

He began to play. His touch was good, the melody flowed out from under his fingers.

Hilda asked: ‘What is that? I seem to know it, and I can’t quite remember.’

He said: ‘I haven’t played it for years.She used to play it. One of Mendelssohn’s Songs Without Words.’

The sweet, over-sweet, melody filled the room. Hilda said:

‘Play some Mozart, do.’

David shook his head. He began another Mendelssohn.

Then suddenly he brought his hands down upon the keys in a harsh discord. He got up. He was trembling all over. Hilda went to him.

She said: ‘David-David.’

He said: ‘It’s nothing-it’s nothing…’

The bell pealed aggressively. Tressilian rose from his seat in the pantry and went slowly out and along to the door.

The bell pealed again. Tressilian frowned. Through the frosted glass of the door he saw the silhouette of a man wearing a slouch hat.

Tressilian passed a hand over his forehead. Something worried him. It was as though everything was happening twice.

Surely this had happened before. Surely-

He drew back the latch and opened the door.

Then the spell broke. The man standing there said:

‘Is this where Mr Simeon Lee lives?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘I’d like to see him, please.’

A faint echo of memory awoke in Tressilian. It was an intonation of voice that he remembered from the old days when Mr Lee was first in England.

Tressilian shook his head dubiously.

‘Mr Lee is an invalid, sir. He doesn’t see many people now. If you-’

The stranger interrupted.

He drew out an envelope and handed it to the butler. 

‘Please give this to Mr Lee.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Simeon Lee took the envelope. He drew out the single sheet of paper it held. He looked surprised. His eyebrows rose, but he smiled.

‘By all that’s wonderful!’ he said.

Then to the butler: ‘Show Mr Farr up here, Tressilian.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Simeon said: ‘I was just thinking of old Ebenezer Farr. He was my partner out there in Kimberley. Now here’s his son come along!’

Tressilian reappeared. He announced: ‘Mr Farr.’

Stephen Farr came in with a trace of nervousness. He disguised it by putting on a little extra swagger. He said-and just for the moment his South African accent was more marked than usual: ‘Mr Lee?’

‘I’m glad to see you. So you’re Eb’s boy?’

Stephen Farr grinned rather sheepishly.

He said: ‘My first visit to the old country. Father always told me to look you up if I did come.’

‘Quite right.’ The old man looked round. ‘This is my granddaughter, Pilar Estravados.’

‘How do you do?’ said Pilar demurely. 

Stephen Farr thought with a touch of admiration: