‘I want all the facts, madame.’
Alfred said:
‘Juan Estravados, as the result of a quarrel about a woman, killed another man in a café.’
‘How did he kill him?’
Alfred looked appealingly at Lydia. She said evenly:
‘He stabbed him. Juan Estravados was not condemned to death, as there had been provocation. He was sentenced to a term of imprisonment and died in prison.’
‘Does his daughter know about her father?’
‘I think not.’
Alfred said:
‘No, Jennifer never told her.’
‘Thank you.’
Lydia said:
‘You don’t think that Pilar—Oh, it’s absurd!’
Poirot said:
‘Now, M. Lee, will you give me some facts about your brother, M. Harry Lee?’
‘What do you want to know?’
‘I understand that he was considered somewhat of a disgrace to the family. Why?’
Lydia said:
‘It is so long ago…’
Alfred said, the colour coming up in his face:
‘If you want to know, M. Poirot, he stole a large sum of money by forging my father’s name to a cheque. Naturally my father didn’t prosecute. Harry’s always been crooked. He’s been in trouble all over the world. Always cabling for money to get out of a scrape. He’s been in and out of gaol here, there and everywhere.’
Lydia said:
‘You don’t really know all this, Alfred.’
Alfred said angrily, his hands shaking:
‘Harry’s no good—no good whatever! He never has been!’
Poirot said:
‘There is, I see, no love lost between you?’
Alfred said:
‘He victimized my father—victimized him shamefully!’
Lydia sighed—a quick, impatient sigh. Poirot heard it and gave her a sharp glance.