Death On The Nile - Christie Agatha - Страница 55

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Jacqueline says she has shot Doyle, Miss Robson says so, Fanthorp says so-tnd when Simon's leg is examined he has been shot. It looks unanswerable! For both of them there is a perfect alibi-at the cost, it is true, of a certain amount of pain and risk to Simon Doyle, but it is necessary that his wound should definitel;y disable him.

"And then the plan goes wrong. Louise Bourget has been wakeful. She has come up the stairway and she has seen Simon Doyle run along to his wie's cabin and come back. Easy enough to piece together what has happened the ollowng day. And so she makes her greedy bid for hush money and in so doing igns her death warrant."

"But Mr. Doyle couldn't have killed her?" Cornelia objected.

"No, the other partner did that murder. As soon as he could Simon D)yle asks to see Jacquelinb. He even asks me to leave them alone together. He tells her th, eh of the new danger. They must act at once. He knows where Bessner's scalpels are kept. After the crime the scalpel is wiped and returned and then, very late and rather out of breath, Jacqueline de Bellefort hurries into lunch.

"And still all is not well. For Mrs. Otterbourne has seen Jacquelin go i.to Louise Bourget's cabin. And she comes hot-foot to tell Simon about it. Jacqueline is the fnurderess. Do you remember how Simon shouted at the poor wom,n.

Nerves, we thought. But the door was open and he was trying to convey the danger to his accomplice. She heard and she acted-acted like lightning. She remembered Pennington had talked about a revolver. She got hold of it, crept up outside the door, listened and at the critical moment fired. She boasted once that she was a good shot and her boast was not an idle one.

"I remarked after that third crime that there were three ways the rourdeer could have gone. I meant that he could have gone aft (in which caseTimAllertonwas the criminal) he could have gone over the side (very improbable) or he could have gone into a cabin.Jacqueline's cabin was just two away fromDr.Bcssner's.

She had only to throw down the revolver, bolt into the cabin, ruffle her hair aad fling herself down on the bunk. It was risky, but it was the only possible chance." There was a silence, then Race asked:

"What happened to the first bullet fired atDoyleby the girl?"

"I think it went into the table. There is a recently made hole there. I thimkDoylehad time to dig it out with a penknife and fling it through the window. I-Ie had, of course, a spare cartridge so that it would appear that only two shots had been fired."

Corneliasighed. "They thought of everything," she said. "It's horrible!"

Poirot was silent. But it was not a modest silence. His eyes seemed to be saying: "You are wrong. They didn't allow forHereulePoirot."

Aloud he said: "And now, doctor, we will go and have a word with yomr patient… "

It was very much later that evening thatHerculePoirotcame and knocked on the door of a cabin.

A voice said, "Come in," and he entered.

Jacquelinede Bellefortwas sitting in a chair. In another chair, close against the wall, sat the big stewardess.

Jacqueline's eyes surveyed Poirot thoughtfully. She made a gesture towards the stewardess.

"Can she go?"

Poirot nodded to the woman and she went out. Poirot drew up her chair and sat down nearJacqueline. Neither of them spoke. Poirot's face was unhappy.

In the end it was the girl who spoke first.

"Well," she said. "It is all over! You were too clever for us,M.Poirot."

Poirot sighed. He spread out his hands. He seemed strangely dumb.

"All the same," saidJacquelinereflectively. "I can't really see that y,ou had much proof. You were quite right, of course, but if we'd bluffed you out-

"In no other way, Mademoiselle, could the thing have happened."

"That's proof enough for a logical mind but I don't believe it would have convinced a jury. Oh, well it can't be helped. You sprang it all on Simon-and he went down like a ninepin. He lost his head utterly, poor lamb, and admitted everything."

She shook her head. "He's a bad loser."

"But you, Mademoiselle, are a good loser."

She laughed suddenly-a queer, gay, defiant little laugh. "Oh, yes, I'm a good loser all right." She looked at him.

She said suddenly and impulsively:

"Don't mind so much, M. Poirot! About me, I mean. You do mind, don't you?"

"Yes, Mademoiselle."

"But it wouldn't have occurred to you to let me off?." Hercule Poirot said quietly: "No."

She nodded her head in quiet agreement.

"No, it's no use being sentimental. I might do it again I'm not a safe person any longer. I can feel that myself… "She went on broodingly. "It's so dreadfully easy-killing people… And you begin to feel that it doesn't matter… That it's only you that matters! It's dangerous-that." She paused, then said with a little smile.

"You did your best for me, you know. That night at Assuan-you told me not to open my heart to evil Did you realise then what was in my mind?" He shook his head.

"I only knew that what I said was true." "It was true I could have stopped, then, you know. I nearly did I could have told Simon that I wouldn't go on with it But then perhaps--" She broke off. She said:

"Would you like to hear about it? From the beginning?" "If you care to tell me, Mademoiselle." "I think I want to tell you. It was all very simple, really. You see, Simon and I loved each other.

" It was a matter-of-fact statement, yet underneath the lightness of her tone there were echoes…

Poirot said simply: "And for you love would have been enough-but not for him." "You might put it that way, perhaps. But you don't quite understand Simon.

You see, he's always wanted money so dreadfully. He likes all the things you get with money-horses and yachts and sport-nice things, all of them. Things a man ought to be keen about.

And he'd never been able to have any of them He's awfully simple, Simon is. He wants things just like a child wants them-you know-terribly.

"All the same he never tried to marry anybody rich and horrid. He wasn't that sort. And then we met-and and that sort of settled things. Only we didn't see when we'd be able to marry. He'd had rather a decent job, but he'd lost it. In a way it was his own fault. He tried to do something smart over money and got found ut at once. I don't believe he really meant to be dishonest. He just thought it was the sort of thing people did in the city." A flicker passed over her listener's face, but he guarded his tongue.

"There we were, up against it, and then I thought of Linnet and her new country house, and I rushed offto her. You know, M. Poirot, I loved Linnet, really I did. She was my best friend and I never dreamed that anything would ever co,ne between us. I just thought how lucky it was she was rich. It might make all the difference to me and Simon if she'd give him a job. And she was awfully sweet about it and told me to bring Simon down to see her. It was about then you sa us that night at Chez Ma Tante. We were making whoopee although we coulda't really afford it." She paused, sighed, then went on.

"What I'm going to say now is quite true, M. Poirot. Even though Linnet is dead it doesn't alter the truth. That's why I'm not really sorry about her even now.

She went all out to get Simon away from me. That's the absolute truth! I don't think she even hesitated for more than about a minute. I was her friend, but she didn't care. She just went bald-headed for Simon.

"And Simon didn't care a damn about her! I talked a lot to you about glamour, but of course that wasn't true. He didn't want Linnet. He thought her good-loolng but terribly bossy, and he hated bossy women! The whole thing embarrassed him frightfully. But he did like the thought of her money.

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