Hercule Poirot's Christmas by Agatha Christie Read Free Book Online

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.’

Hercule Poirot's Christmas
    III
    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,