Lydia stared. She said helplessly:
‘I’d no idea she would take it like that!’
Hilda said:
‘The child seems quite upset.’
George cleared his throat and said portentously:
‘Er—as I pointed out this morning—the principle involved is wrong. Pilar has the wit to see that for herself. She refuses to accept charity—’
Lydia said sharply:
‘It is not charity. It is her right!’
George said:
‘She does not seem to think so!’
Superintendent Sugden and Hercule Poirot came in. The former looked round and asked:
‘Where’s Mr Farr? I want a word with him.’
Before anyone had time to answer, Hercule Poirot said sharply:
‘Where is the señorita Estravados?’
George Lee said with a trace of malicious satisfaction:
‘Going to clear out, so she says. Apparently she has had enough of her English relations.’
Poirot wheeled round.
He said to Sugden:
‘Come!’
As the two men emerged into the hall, there was the sound of a heavy crash and a far-away shriek.
Poirot cried:
‘Quick…Come…’
They raced along the hall and up the far staircase. The door of Pilar’s room was open and a man stood in the doorway. He turned his head as they ran up. It was Stephen Farr.
He said:
‘She’s alive…’
Pilar stood crouched against the wall of her room. She was staring at the floor where a big stone cannon ball was lying.
She said breathlessly:
‘It was on top of my door, balanced there. It would have crashed down on my head when I came in, but my skirt caught on a nail and jerked me back just as I was coming in.’
Poirot knelt down and examined the nail. On it was a thread of purple tweed. He looked up and nodded gravely.
‘That nail, mademoiselle,’ he said, ‘saved your life.’