Hercule Poirot's Christmas

He grinned at them. George said earnestly: 

‘Of course…of course…’

Simeon said: ‘Grand old institution, Christmas. Promotes solidarity of family feeling. What do you think, Magdalene, my dear?’

Magdalene Lee jumped. Her rather silly little mouth flew open and then shut itself. She said: ‘Oh – oh,yes!’

Simeon said: ‘Let me see, you lived with a retired naval officer’ – he paused – ‘your father. Don’t suppose you made much of Christmas. It needs a big family for that!’

‘Well – well – yes, perhaps it does.’

Simeon’s eyes slid past her.

‘Don’t want to talk of anything unpleasant at this time of year, but you know, George, I’m afraid I’ll have to cut down your allowance a bit. My establishment here is going to cost me a bit more to run in future.’

George got very red.

‘But look here, Father, you can’t do that!’

Simeon said softly: ‘Oh, can’t I!’

‘My expenses are very heavy already. Very heavy. As it is, I don’t know how I make both ends meet. It needs the most rigorous economy.’

‘Let your wife do a bit more of it,’ said Simeon. ‘Women are good at that sort of thing. They often think of economies where a man would never have dreamt of them. And a clever woman can make her own clothes. My wife, I remember, was clever with her needle. About all she was clever with – a good woman, but deadly dull–’

David sprang up. His father said:

‘Sit down, boy, you’ll knock something over–’

David said: ‘My mother–’

Simeon said: ‘Your mother had the brains of a louse! And it seems to me she’s transmitted those brains to her children.’ He raised himself up suddenly. A red spot appeared on each cheek. His voice came high and shrill. ‘You’re not worth a penny piece, any of you! I’m sick of you all! You’re not men! You’re weaklings – a set of namby-pamby weaklings. Pilar’s worth any two of you put together! I’ll swear to heaven I’ve got a better son somewhere in the world than any of you, even if you are born the right side of the blanket!’

‘Here, Father, hold hard,’ cried Harry.

He had jumped up and stood there, a frown on his usually good-humoured face. Simeon snapped:

‘The same goes for you! What have you ever done? Whined to me for money from all over the world! I tell you I’m sick of the sight of you all! Get out!’

He leaned back in his chair, panting a little.

Slowly, one by one, his family went out. George was red and indignant. Magdalene looked frightened. David was pale and quivering. Harry blustered out of the room. Alfred went like a man in a dream. Lydia followed him with her head held high. Only Hilda paused in the doorway and came slowly back.

She stood over him, and he started when he opened his eyes and found her standing there. There was something menacing in the solid way she stood there quite immovably.

He said irritably: ‘What is it?’

Hilda said: ‘When your letter came I believed what you said – that you wanted your family round you for Christmas, I persuaded David to come.’

Simeon said: ‘Well, what of it?’

Hilda said slowly: ‘You did want your family round you – but not for the purpose you said! You wanted them there, didn’t you, in order to set them all by the ears? God help you, it’s your idea of fun!’

Simeon chuckled. He said: ‘I always had rather a specialized sense of humour. I don’t expect anyone else to appreciate the joke. I’m enjoying it!’

She said nothing. A vague feeling of apprehension came over Simeon Lee. He said sharply:

‘What are you thinking about?’

Hilda Lee said slowly: ‘I’m afraid…’

Simeon said: ‘You’re afraid – of me?’

Hilda said: ‘Not of you. I’m afraid – for you!’

Like a judge who has delivered sentence, she turned away. She marched, slowly and heavily, out of the room…

Simeon sat staring at the door.

Then he got to his feet and made his way over to the safe. He murmured: ‘Let’s have a look at my beauties.’

III

The doorbell rang about a quarter to eight.

Tressilian went to answer it. he returned to his pantry to find Horbury there, picking up the coffee-cups off the tray and looking at the mark on them.

‘Who was it?’ said Horbury.

‘Superintendent of Police – Mr Sugden – mind what you’re doing!’

Horbury had dropped one of the cups with a crash.

‘Look at that now,’ lamented Tressilian. ‘Eleven years I’ve had the washing up of those and never one broken, and now you come along touching things you’ve no business to touch, and look what happens!’

‘I’m sorry, Mr Tressilian. I am indeed,’ the other apologized. His face was covered with perspiration. ‘I don’t know how it happened. Did you say a Superintendent of Police had called?’

‘Yes – Mr Sugden.’ 

The valet passed a tongue over pale lips.

‘What – what did he want?’

‘Collecting for the Police Orphanage.’

‘Oh!’ The valet straightened his shoulders. In a more natural voice he said:

‘Did he get anything?’

‘I took up the book to old Mr Lee, and he told me to fetch the superintendent up and to put the sherry on the table.’

‘Nothing but begging, this time of year,’ said Horbury. ‘The old devil’s generous, I will say that for him, in spite of his other failings.’

Tressilian said with dignity: