Hercule Poirot's Christmas

Superintendent Sugden is the novel’s hidden antagonist, a character whose true identity is the key to the mystery’s resolution. On the surface, he is a flat character and embodies the archetype of the competent, stolid, and unimaginative local police officer. He performs his duties with methodical precision, and appears thorough and logical during the investigation. This professional persona, however, is a masterful performance, a key element of the theme The Fragility of Identity and the Performance of Self. In the final chapter, Johnson is astonished that the killer is his “best man” on the force, and the colonel’s reaction underscores how successfully Sugden played the role of the diligent, upright superintendent while concealing his true motives.

In reality, Sugden is a round character whose complexity is only revealed in the final act when he is identified as the murderer and his true motives are exposed. He is one of Simeon’s sons, born out of wedlock, and his entire life has been shaped by a desire for vengeance against the father who wronged his mother and abandoned him. Despite his loathing for Simeon, Sugden is defined by traits he inherits from him—pride, patience, and a thirst for vengeance. Poirot deduces that the man “determined long ago to kill” Simeon and that he joined the police force in the first place to facilitate the murder (260). The long years of planning and the meticulous details that went into the scheme, such as the use of sodium citrate to falsify the time of death, demonstrate Sugden’s cunning and great patience. Christie emphasizes Sugden’s implacable hatred of his father through the character’s last piece of dialogue after he has been revealed to be the killer: “God rot his soul in hell! I’m glad I did it!” (263). 

Sugden inherits Simeon’s physical traits as well as his personality. The family resemblance reveals itself in features like his “distinctive high-bridged nose” and habits like his tendency of “laughing with his head thrown back” (259), and these similarities ultimately help Poirot realize the superintendent’s connection to the crime. By making the killer the police officer responsible for the murder investigation, Christie advances the novel’s theme of performance and delivers a plot twist that satisfies an essential component of detective fiction.

As the story’s protagonist and detective, Hercule Poirot functions as the agent of order and reason in a household consumed by chaos and violent passion. He arrives not as an official investigator but as a guest of the chief constable, allowing him to observe the Lee family from a unique perspective. Poirot’s methodology extends beyond the examination of physical evidence. He recognizes early on that the key to the crime lies not in fingerprints or timelines but in the victim’s personality. He states, “the whole importance of the case lies…in the character of the dead man” (118). By focusing on the psychology of Simeon, Poirot correctly deduces that the murder is an intimate, familial affair, a product of the hatred and greed the old man cultivated in those around him.

Poirot’s investigation is rooted in psychological detection. He interprets the over-the-top violence of the crime scene as a theatrical performance designed to mislead and identifies the seemingly meaningless clues, such as the fragment of a balloon, as crucial elements of a meticulously planned deception. His role culminates in the classic drawing-room denouement, where he systematically dismantles each family member’s potential guilt before exposing the true murderer. In doing so, he not only solves the crime but also reveals the deep-seated emotional truths the Lee family has long suppressed, bringing a resolution to their Christmas gathering.

Alfred is the eldest son and the archetypal dutiful child, a round and static character defined by his unwavering loyalty to a father who shows him little but contempt. He has sacrificed his own ambitions, giving up a military career to manage the family business, and endures Simeon’s daily tyranny with a quiet, pained devotion. His wife, Lydia, observes that Simeon “bullies [him] and presumes on [Alfred’s] affection for him” (13). Alfred’s relationship with his father is one of almost complete subjugation; he is unable to stand up to Simeon and consistently defends the man’s cruel behavior. This dynamic establishes him as a central target of his father’s psychological abuse.

Alfred’s gentle nature and seeming lack of resentment make him an unlikely suspect. However, his repressed frustration and the profound shock he displays at Harry’s return hint at a deep well of buried emotion. His fierce desire for revenge after the murder reveals a passion that his placid exterior typically conceals. He insists to Poirot that his “father has got to be avenged” (104), a demand that stems less from a sense of justice and more from his lifelong, unreciprocated devotion. Alfred represents the emotional cost of Simeon’s patriarchal cruelty, a son whose identity has been almost entirely subsumed by the father he both loves and fears.

The most sensitive and artistic of the Lee sons, David is a round and dynamic character who carries The Inescapable Burdens of the Past. He is haunted by the memory of his mother, Adelaide, and harbors a deep, abiding hatred for the father he holds responsible for her unhappiness and death. His return to Gorston Hall after a 20-year absence is not a willing attempt at reconciliation but a concession to his wife, Hilda. Upon arrival, his trauma is immediately reawakened by the familiar surroundings, and he is tormented by memories of his mother’s suffering.

David’s powerful motive of personal vengeance makes him a primary suspect. His emotional volatility and artistic temperament are sharply contrasted with the dispositions of his brothers. His playing of the “Dead March” on the piano just before the murder and his cryptic utterance, “The mills of God grind slowly…” over his father’s body are interpreted as signs of guilt (74). Ultimately, however, David is not a man of action but of feeling. Simeon’s death provides him with a psychological release, and over the course of the novel. David journeys from a man trapped by the past to one who can finally break free from it.

Harry is the archetypal prodigal son, a charming and roguish figure whose unexpected return ignites the simmering tensions within the Lee family. He is a flat, static character who shares his father’s boisterous energy and love of creating trouble. Unlike his brothers, Harry has lived a life of adventure, and his presence serves as a disruptive force in the stifling atmosphere of Gorston Hall. He is keenly aware of his role, acknowledging his poor reputation and the jealousy he inspires in his dutiful brother Alfred. His physical resemblance to Simeon is a key plot point, providing a clue for Poirot, who notes the shared features and mannerisms between him and Sugden.

Despite his disreputable past, Harry is not deceptive by nature; rather, he is motivated by a straightforward desire for comfort and financial gain. He sees an opportunity to get back into his father’s good graces and secure a portion of the family fortune. His blunt honesty and lack of hypocrisy make him a foil to his more repressed brothers. Though he is a significant red herring whose presence raises suspicions, his alibi for the time of the murder is solid. Harry’s return sets the stage for the explosive family confrontations his father so eagerly anticipates.

The young woman known as Pilar Estravados is a clever imposter and a central figure in the theme of the performance of self. Conchita Lopez assumes the identity of the real Pilar, who was killed in the Spanish Civil War, in a bid for adventure and wealth. She is a round, dynamic character whose pragmatism, charm, and greed are combined with a nascent sense of morality. She successfully manipulates Simeon, quickly recognizing that the lonely old man craves the company of a vibrant young woman. Her performance is so effective that she quickly becomes his favorite, positioning herself to be a major beneficiary in his new will.

Despite her deception, Conchita is not inherently malicious. Her simple declaration, “If I had an enemy […] then I would cut my enemy’s throat” (9), is less a statement of intent than a reflection of a straightforward worldview. Her role shifts from perpetrator of a deception to intended victim when she unknowingly discovers a clue to the murder, the remnant of the “Dying Pig” balloon. The attempt on her life proves that she has knowledge she is not aware of. Her eventual confession is prompted by the Lee family’s genuine kindness in offering her an inheritance, an act of justice that shames her out of her deceit and reveals her ethical principles.

Stephen Grant is another son of Simeon who was born out of wedlock. He’s initially introduced as the son of Simeon’s old business partner, Ebenezer Farr. Like Pilar, Stephen is an imposter in Gorston Hall and advances the theme of the performance of self.  However, while Pilar is motivated by dreams of wealth and adventure, he is driven by a deep-seated curiosity about his parentage: “I came here for one reason only—to see the man who was my father” (256). To conceal his true motives, Stephen plays the part of the reckless young lover, claiming that he followed Pilar on a whim after falling for her during their chance encounter on the train. The seemingly forthright Stephen’s layers of roles and secrets illustrate the constructedness of identity. 

Christie uses Stephen to enhance the novel’s suspense and mystery. For example, the déjà vu that Tressilian feels when he first sees Stephen foreshadows the revelation that he’s Simeon’s son. The light-hearted scene in which he and Pilar play with balloons becomes a turning point because it prompts Poirot’s realization that the killer used a “Dying Pig” balloon to falsify the time of death. Stephen serves his primary narrative function as a red herring who diverts the reader’s attention from the true culprit. Like Sugden, he satisfies Poirot’s description of the suspect as a “a member of the family—and, at the same time, a stranger” (200). 

During the resolution, Stephen and Pilar declare their intention to marry and live in South Africa. This announcement supports the novel’s happy ending by showing how the characters have found healing and are able to create new, authentic lives for themselves now that their pasts have been confronted and their secrets revealed.

As the wife of Alfred Lee, Lydia is an intelligent and observant woman who navigates the toxic Lee family dynamics with grace and detachment. A round and static character, she is fiercely loyal to her husband but under no illusions about her father-in-law, whom she recognizes as a “malicious and tyrannical old man” (13). She maintains a polite and cool facade, a performance that Simeon respects. Lydia functions as a voice of reason within the narrative, often providing sharp, insightful commentary on the family’s dysfunction. Her creation of miniature rock gardens, particularly the one depicting the Dead Sea, serves as a symbol for the emotionally barren landscape of Gorston Hall. Her loyalty to Alfred is her primary motivation, and she acts to protect him from both his father’s cruelty and the emotional turmoil of the murder investigation.

Hilda Lee, David’s wife, is a strong, sensible, and protective presence, acting as an anchor for her emotionally vulnerable husband. A round and static character, she possesses a quiet force and maternal strength that contrasts sharply with the repressed jealousies and resentments of the Lee family. It is her desire to see David healed from his past trauma that prompts their visit to Gorston Hall, a decision she later regrets. She understands the complex psychology of the family, recognizing that Simeon’s cruelty may have grown unchecked due to her mother-in-law’s meekness. Hilda’s primary motivation is the protection of David. She provides his alibi for the time of the murder and later confesses to standing outside Simeon’s door when she heard the scream, a truth she initially withheld out of fear that suspicion would fall on her. She embodies stability and common sense in a house defined by emotional extremity.

George Lee is a flat, static character who embodies avarice and pomposity. As a member of Parliament, he cloaks his actions in a veneer of respectability, but his primary motivation is greed. He is entirely dependent on his father’s allowance and is deeply agitated by Simeon’s threat to reduce it. His concern after the murder is less for his father and more for his share of the inheritance. In particular, George demonstrates the corrupting influence of greed through his callous efforts to deprive his supposed niece of her late mother’s share of the fortune.

Magdalene, George’s wife, is a flat and static character who is depicted as vain, superficial, and manipulative. Her marriage to George, a man 20 years her senior, is clearly based on her desire for wealth and status. She is bored by the family gathering and views it purely in terms of financial opportunity. Her primary motivation is self-preservation, which involves maintaining her expensive lifestyle and hiding secrets, such as her past and a clandestine affair, from her husband. She attempts to use her beauty and a performance of childlike innocence to manipulate the male investigators, but her deceit is transparent. Magdalene serves to reinforce the novel’s themes of greed and performance.

The elderly butler of Gorston Hall, Tressilian is a flat, static character who represents the archetype of the faithful family retainer. Having served the Lees for nearly 40 years, he is devoted to the family and embodies a sense of order and tradition that is shattered by the murder. Though a minor character, he plays a crucial role. His failing eyesight and his feeling that events are repeating themselves lead him to confuse Harry, Stephen, and Superintendent Sugden, providing an important unconscious clue about their physical resemblance to a young Simeon. His loyalty and confusion highlight the disruption caused by the murder and the violent intrusion of the past.