Twenty

People crept into the dining saloon by ones and twos in a very subdued¹ manner. There seemed ageneral feeling that to sit down eagerly to food displayed an unfortunate heartlessness. It was withan almost apologetic air that one passenger after another came and sat down at their tables.

Tim Allerton arrived some few minutes after his mother had taken her seat. He was looking in athoroughly bad temper.

“I wish we’d never come on this blasted trip,” he growled².

Mrs. Allerton shook her head sadly.

“Oh, my dear, so do I. That beautiful girl! It all seems such a waste. To think that anyone couldshoot her in cold blood. It seems awful to me that anyone could do such a thing. And that otherpoor child.”

“Jacqueline?”

“Yes; my heart aches for her. She looks so dreadfully unhappy.”

“Teach her not to go round loosing off toy firearms,” said Tim unfeelingly as he helped himselfto butter.

“I expect she was badly brought up.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Mother, don’t go all maternal³ about it.”

“You’re in a shocking bad temper, Tim.”

“Yes I am. Who wouldn’t be?”

“I don’t see what there is to be cross about. It’s just frightfully sad.”

Tim said crossly: “You’re taking the romantic point of view! What you don’t seem to realize isthat it’s no joke being mixed up in a murder case.”

Mrs. Allerton looked a little startled.

“But surely—”

“That’s just it. There’s no ‘But surely’ about it. Everyone on this damned boat is undersuspicion—you and I as well as the rest of them.”

Mrs. Allerton demurred⁴. “Technically we are, I suppose—but actually it’s ridiculous!”

“There’s nothing ridiculous where murder’s concerned! You may sit there, darling, just exudingvirtue and conscious rectitude, but a lot of unpleasant policeman at Shellal or Assuan won’t takeyou at your face value.”

“Perhaps the truth will be known before then.”

“Why should it be?”

“Monsieur Poirot may find out.”

“That old mountebank⁵? He won’t find out anything. He’s all talk and moustaches.”

“Well, Tim,” said Mrs. Allerton. “I dare say everything you say is true, but, even if it is, we’vegot to go through with it, so we might as well make up our minds to it and go through with it ascheerfully as we can.”

But her son showed no abatement⁶ of gloom.

“There’s this blasted business of the pearls being missing, too.”

“Linnet’s pearls?”

“Yes. It seems somebody must have pinched ’em.”

“I suppose that was the motive⁷ for the crime,” said Mrs. Allerton.

“Why should it be? You’re mixing up two perfectly⁸ different things.”

“Who told you that they were missing?”

“Ferguson. He got it from his tough friend in the engine room, who got it from the maid.”

“They were lovely pearls,” declared Mrs. Allerton.

Poirot sat down at the table, bowing to Mrs. Allerton.

“I am a little late,” he said.

“I expect you have been busy,” Mrs. Allerton replied.

“Yes, I have been much occupied.”

He ordered a fresh bottle of wine from the waiter.

“We’re very catholic in our tastes,” said Mrs. Allerton. “You drink wine always; Tim drinkswhisky and soda⁹, and I try all the different brands of mineral water in turn.”

“Tiens!” said Poirot. He stared at her for a moment. He murmured to himself: “It is an idea,that….”

Then, with an impatient shrug¹⁰ of his shoulders, he dismissed the sudden preoccupation that haddistracted him and began to chat lightly of other matters.

“Is Mr. Doyle badly hurt?” asked Mrs. Allerton.

“Yes, it is a fairly serious injury. Dr. Bessner is anxious to reach Assuan so that his leg can beX-rayed and the bullet removed. But he hopes there will be no permanent lameness¹².”

“Poor Simon,” said Mrs. Allerton. “Only yesterday he looked such a happy boy, witheverything in the world he wanted. And now his beautiful wife killed and he himself laid up andhelpless. I do hope, though—”

“What do you hope, Madame?” asked Poirot as Mrs. Allerton paused.

“I hope he’s not too angry with that poor child.”

“With Mademoiselle Jacqueline? Quite the contrary. He was full of anxiety on her behalf.”

He turned to Tim.

“You know, it is a pretty little problem of psychology¹³, that. All the time that MademoiselleJacqueline was following them from place to place, he was absolutely furious; but now, when shehas actually shot him, and wounded him dangerously—perhaps made him lame¹¹ for life—all hisanger seems to have evaporated. Can you understand that?”

“Yes,” said Tim thoughtfully, “I think I can. The first thing made him feel a fool—”

Poirot nodded. “You are right. It offended his male dignity.”

“But now—if you look at it a certain way, it’s she who’s made a fool of herself. Everyone’sdown on her, and so—”

“He can be generously forgiving,” finished Mrs. Allerton. “What children men are!”

“A profoundly untrue statement that women always make,” murmured Tim.

Poirot smiled. Then he said to Tim: “Tell me, Madame Doyle’s cousin, Miss JoannaSouthwood, did she resemble Madame Doyle?”

“You’ve got it a little wrong, Monsieur Poirot. She was our cousin and Linnet’s friend.”

“Ah, pardon — I was confused. She is a young lady much in the news, that. I have beeninterested in her for some time.”

“Why?” asked Tim sharply.

Poirot half rose to bow to Jacqueline de Bellefort, who had just come in and passed their tableon the way to her own. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes bright, and her breath came a littleunevenly. As he resumed his seat Poirot seemed to have forgotten Tim’s question. He murmuredvaguely: “I wonder if all young ladies with valuable jewels are as careless as Madame Doylewas?”

“It is true, then, that they were stolen?” asked Mrs. Allerton.

“Who told you so, Madame?”

“Ferguson said so,” Tim volunteered.

Poirot nodded gravely.

“It is quite true.”

“I suppose,” Mrs. Allerton nervously¹⁴, “that this will mean a lot of unpleasantness for all of us.

Tim says it will.”

Her son scowled¹⁵, but Poirot had turned to him.

“Ah! You have had previous experience, perhaps? You have been in a house where there was arobbery?”

“Never,” said Tim.

“Oh, yes, darling, you were at the Portarlingtons’ that time — when that awful woman’sdiamonds were stolen.”

“You always get things hopelessly wrong, Mother. I was there when it was discovered that thediamonds she was wearing round her fat neck were only paste! The actual substitution wasprobably done months earlier. As a matter of fact, of lot of people said she’d had it done herself!”

“Joanna said so, I expect.”

“Joanna wasn’t there.”

“But she knew them quite well. And it’s very like her to make that kind of suggestion.”

“You’re always down on Joanna, Mother.”

Poirot hastily changed the subject. He had it in mind to make a really big purchase at one of theAssuanshops. Some very attractive purple and gold material at one of the Indian merchants. Therewould, of course, be the duty to pay, but—

“They tell me that they can—how do you say—expedite it for me. And that the charges will notbe too high. How think you, will it arrive all right?”

Mrs. Allerton said that many people, so she had heard, had had things sent straight to Englandfrom the shops in question and that everything had arrived safely.

“Bien. Then I will do that. But the trouble one has, when one is abroad, if a parcel comes outfrom England! Have you had experience of that? Have you had any parcels arrive since you havebeen on your travels?”

“I don’t think we have, have we, Tim? You get books sometimes, but of course there is neverany trouble about them.”

“Ah, no, books are different.”

Dessert had been served. Now, without any previous warning, Colonel Race stood up and madehis speech.

He touched on the circumstances of the crime and announced the theft of the pearls. A search ofthe boat was about to be instituted, and he would be obliged if all the passengers would remain inthe saloon until this was completed. Then, after that, if the passengers agreed, as he was sure theywould, they themselves would be kind enough to submit to a search.

Poirot slipped nimbly along to his side. There was a little buzz and hum all round them. Voicesdoubtful, indignant, excited….

Poirot reached Race’s side and murmured something in his ear just as the latter was about toleave the dining saloon.

Race listened, nodded assent¹⁶, and beckoned¹⁷ a steward¹⁸. He said a few brief words to him; then,together with Poirot, he passed out on to the deck, closing the door behind him.

They stood for a minute or two by the rail. Race lit a cigarette.

“Not a bad idea of yours,” he said. “We’ll soon see if there’s anything in it. I’ll give ’em threeminutes.”

The door of the dining saloon opened and the same steward to whom they had spoken came out.

He saluted¹⁹ Race and said: “Quite right, sir. There’s a lady who says it’s urgent she should speak toyou at once without delay.”

“Ah!” Race’s face showed satisfaction.

“Who is it?”

“Miss Bowers²⁰, sir, the hospital nurse lady.”

A slight shade of surprise showed on Race’s face. He said, “Bring her to the smoking room.

Don’t let anyone else leave.”

“No, sir—the other steward will attend to that.”

He went back into the dining room. Poirot and Race went to the smoking room.

“Bowers, eh?” muttered Race.

They had hardly got inside the smoking room before the steward reappeared with Miss Bowers.

He ushered²¹ her in and left, shutting the door behind him.

“Well, Miss Bowers?” Colonel Race looked at her inquiringly. “What’s all this?”

Miss Bowers looked her usual composed, unhurried self. She displayed no particular emotion.

“You’ll excuse me, Colonel Race,” she said, “but under the circumstances I thought the bestthing to do would be to speak to you at once”—she opened her neat black handbag—“and toreturn you these.”

She took out a string of pearls and laid them on the table.

 

点击收听单词发音