‘I should have chosen a less public moment,’ he said. ‘However, I’ve no objection.’ He handed the cable to Stephen Farr. ‘Now, Mr Farr, as you call yourself, perhaps you can explain this?’
Stephen Farr took it. Raising his eyebrows, he read it slowly out loud. Then, with a bow, he handed it back to the superintendent.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It’s pretty damning, isn’t it?’
Sugden said:
‘Is that all you’ve got to say about it? You quite understand there is no obligation on you to make a statement—’
Stephen Farr interrupted. He said:
‘You needn’t caution me, Superintendent. I can see it trembling on your tongue! Yes, I’ll give you an explanation. It’s not a very good one, but it’s the truth.’
He paused. Then he began:
‘I’m not Ebenezer Farr’s son. But I knew both father and son quite well. Now try and put yourself in my place. (My name is Stephen Grant, by the way.) I arrived in this country for the first time in my life. I was disappointed. Everything and everybody seemed drab and lifeless. Then I was travelling by train and I saw a girl. I’ve got to say it straight out: I fell for that girl! She was the loveliest and most unlikely creature in the world! I talked to her for a while in the train and I made up my mind then and there not to lose sight of her. As I was leaving the compartment I caught sight of the label on her suitcase. Her name meant nothing to me, but the address to which she was travelling did. I’d heard of Gorston Hall, and I knew all about its owner. He was Ebenezer Farr’s one-time partner and old Eb often talked about him and said what a personality he was.
‘Well, the idea came to me to go to Gorston Hall and pretend I was Eb’s son. He had died, as this cable says, two years ago, but I remembered old Eb saying that he had not heard from Simeon Lee now for many years, and I judged that Lee would not know of the death of Eb’s son. Anyway, I felt it was worth trying.’
Sugden said: ‘You didn’t try it on at once, though. You stayed in the King’s Arms at Addlesfield for two days.’
Stephen said:
‘I was thinking it over—whether to try it or not. At last I made up my mind I would. It appealed to me as a bit of an adventure. Well, it worked like a charm! The old man greeted me in the friendliest manner and at once asked me to come and stay in the house. I accepted. There you are, Superintendent, there’s my explanation. If you don’t fancy it, cast your mind back to your courting days and see if you don’t remember some bit of foolishness you indulged in then. As for my real name, as I say, it’s Stephen Grant. You can cable to South Africa and check up on me, but I’ll tell you this: you’ll find I’m a perfectly respectable citizen. I’m not a crook or a jewel thief.’
Poirot said softly: ‘I never believed you were.’
Superintendent Sugden stroked his jaw cautiously. He said:
‘I’ll have to check up on that story. What I’d like to know is this: Why didn’t you come clean after the murder instead of telling us a pack of lies?’
Stephen said disarmingly:
‘Because I was a fool! I thought I could get away with it! I thought it would look fishy if I admitted to being here under a false name. If I hadn’t been a complete idiot I would have realized you were bound to cable to Jo’burg.’
Sugden said:
‘Well, Mr Farr—er—Grant—I’m not saying I disbelieve your story. It will be proved or disproved soon enough.’
He looked across inquiringly at Poirot. The latter said:
‘I think Miss Estravados has something to say.’
Pilar had gone very white. She said, in a breathless voice:
‘It is true. I would never have told you, but for Lydia and the money. To come here and pretend and cheat and act—that was fun, but when Lydia said the money was mine and that it was only justice, that was different; it was not fun any longer.’
Alfred Lee said with a puzzled face:
‘I do not understand, my dear, what you are talking about.’
Pilar said:
‘You think I am your niece, Pilar Estravados? But that is not so! Pilar was killed when I was travelling with her in a car in Spain. A bomb came and it hit the car and she was killed, but I was not touched. I did not know her very well, but she had told me all about herself and how her grandfather had sent for her to go to England and that he was very rich. And I had no money at all and I did not know where to go or what to do. And I thought suddenly: “Why should not I take Pilar’s passport and go to England and become very rich?” ’ Her face lit up with its sudden wide smile. ‘Oh, it was fun wondering if I could get away with it! Our faces on the photograph were not unlike. But when they wanted my passport here I opened the window and threw it out and ran down to get it, and then I rubbed some earth just over the face a little because at a barrier travelling they do not look very closely, but here they might—’
Alfred Lee said angrily:
‘Do you mean to say that you represented yourself to my father as his granddaughter, and played on his affection for you?’