Twenty-Nine

“You and I, my friend,” Poirot leaned towards Race, “started our investigation¹ with apreconceived idea. That idea was that the crime was committed on the spur of the moment,without any preliminary planning. Somebody wished to remove Linnet Doyle and had seized theiropportunity to do so at a moment when the crime would almost certainly be attributed toJacqueline de Bellefort. It therefore followed that the person in question had overheard the scenebetween Jacqueline and Simon Doyle and had obtained possession of the pistol after the othershad left the saloon.

“But, my friends, if that preconceived idea was wrong, the whole aspect of the case altered. Andit was wrong! This was no spontaneous crime committed on the spur of the moment. It was, on thecontrary, very carefully planned and accurately² timed, with all the details meticulously³ worked outbeforehand, even to the drugging of Hercule Poirot’s bottle of wine on the night in question!

“But yes, that is so! I was put to sleep so that there should be no possibility of my participatingin the events of the night. It did just occur to me as a possibility. I drink wine; my two companionsat table drink whisky and mineral water respectively. Nothing easier than to slip a dose ofharmless narcotic⁴ into my bottle of wine—the bottles stand on the tables all day. But I dismissedthe thought. It had been a hot day; I had been unusually tired; it was not really extraordinary that Ishould for once have slept heavily instead of lightly as I usually do.

“You see, I was still in the grip of the preconceived idea. If I had been drugged, that would haveimplied premeditation, it would mean that before seven-thirty, when dinner is served, the crimehad already been decided⁵ upon; and that (always from the point of view of the preconceived idea)was absurd.

“The first blow to the preconceived idea was when the pistol was recovered from the Nile. Tobegin with, if we were right in our assumptions, the pistol ought never to have been thrownoverboard at all…And there was more to follow.”

Poirot turned to Dr. Bessner.

“You, Dr. Bessner, examined Linnet Doyle’s body. You will remember that the wound showedsigns of scorching—that is to say, that the pistol had been placed close against the head beforebeing fired.”

Bessner nodded. “So. That is exact.”

“But when the pistol was found it was wrapped in a velvet⁶ stole, and that velvet showed definitesigns that a pistol had been fired through its folds, presumably under the impression that thatwould deaden the sound of the shot. But if the pistol had been fired through the velvet, therewould have been no signs of burning on the victim’s skin. Therefore, the shot fired by Jacquelinede Bellefort at Simon Doyle? Again no, for there had been two witnesses of that shooting, and weknew all about it. It appeared, therefore, as though a third shot had been fired—one we knewnothing about. But only two shots had been fired from the pistol, and there was no hint orsuggestion of another shot.

“Here we were face to face with a very curious unexplained circumstance. The next interestingpoint was the fact that in Linnet Doyle’s cabin I found two bottles of coloured nail polish. Nowladies very often vary the colour of their nails, but so far Linnet Doyle’s nails had always been theshade called Cardinal—a deep dark red. The other bottle was labelled Rose, which is a shade ofpale pink, but the few drops remaining in the bottle were not pale pink but a bright red. I wassufficiently curious to take out the stopper and sniff⁷. Instead of the usual strong odour ofpeardrops, the bottle smelt⁸ of vinegar! That is to say, it suggested that the drop or two of fluid in itwas red ink. Now there is no reason why Madame Doyle should not have had a bottle of red ink,but it would have been more natural if she had had red ink in a red ink bottle and not in a nailpolish bottle. It suggested a link with the faintly stained handkerchief which had been wrappedround the pistol. Red ink washes out quickly but always leaves a pale pink stain.

“I should perhaps have arrived at the truth with these slender indications, but an event occurredwhich rendered all doubt superfluous⁹. Louise Bourget was killed in circumstances which pointedunmistakably to the fact that she had been blackmailing¹⁰ the murderer. Not only was a fragment ofa mille franc note still clasped in her hand, but I remembered some very significant words she hadused this morning.

“Listen carefully, for here is the crux¹¹ of the whole matter. When I asked her if she had seenanything the previous night she gave this very curious answer: ‘Naturally, if I had been unable tosleep, if I had mounted the stairs, then perhaps I might have seen this assassin, this monster enteror leave Madame’s cabin…’ Now what exactly did that tell us?”

Bessner, his nose wrinkling with intellectual interest, replied promptly¹²: “It told you that she hadmounted the stairs.”

“No, no; you fail to see the point. Why should she have said that, to us?”

“To convey a hint.”

“But why hint to us? If she knows who the murderer is, there are two courses open to her—totell us the truth, or to hold her tongue and demand money for her silence from the personconcerned! But she does neither. She neither says promptly: ‘I saw nobody. I was asleep.’ Nordoes she say: ‘Yes, I saw someone, and it was so and so.’ Why use that significant indeterminaterigmarole of words? Parbleu, there can be only one reason! She is hinting to the murderer;therefore the murderer must have been present at the time. But, besides myself and Colonel Race,only two people were present—Simon Doyle and Dr. Bessner.”

The doctor sprang up with a roar.

“Ach! what is that you say? You accuse me? Again? But it is ridiculous—beneath contempt.”

Poirot said sharply: “Be quiet. I am telling you what I thought at the time. Let us remainimpersonal.”

“He doesn’t mean he thinks it’s you now,” said Cornelia soothingly¹³.

Poirot went on quickly: “So it lay there—between Simon Doyle and Dr. Bessner. But whatreason has Bessner to kill Linnet Doyle? None, so far as I know. Simon Doyle, then? But that wasimpossible! There were plenty of witnesses who could swear that Doyle never left the saloon thatevening until the quarrel broke out. After that he was wounded and it would then have beenphysically impossible for him to have done so. Had I good evidence on both those points? Yes, Ihad the evidence of Mademoiselle Robson, of Jim Fanthorp, and of Jacqueline de Bellefort as tothe first, and I had the skilled testimony¹⁴ of Dr. Bessner and of Mademoiselle Bowers¹⁵ as to theother. No doubt was possible.

“So Dr. Bessner must be the guilty one. In favour of this theory there was the fact that the maidhad been stabbed with a surgical¹⁶ knife. On the other hand Bessner had deliberately¹⁷ called attentionto this fact.

“And then, my friends, a second perfectly¹⁸ indisputable fact became apparent to me. LouiseBourget’s hint could not have been intended for Dr. Bessner, because she could perfectly wellhave spoken to him in private at any time she liked. There was one person, and one person only,who corresponded to her necessity—Simon Doyle! Simon Doyle was wounded, was constantlyattended by a doctor, was in that doctor’s cabin. It was to him therefore that she risked sayingthose ambiguous words, in case she might not get another chance. And I remember how she hadgone on, turning to him: ‘Monsieur, I implore¹⁹ you—you see how it is? What can I say?’ And thisanswer: ‘My good girl, don’t be a fool. Nobody thinks you saw or heard anything. You’ll be quiteall right. I’ll look after you. Nobody’s accusing you of anything.’ That was the assurance shewanted, and she got it!”

Bessner uttered a colossal²⁰ snort.

“Ach! it is foolish, that! Do you think a man with a fractured bone and a splint on his leg couldgo walking about the boat and stabbing people? I tell you, it was impossible for Simon Doyle toleave his cabin.”

Poirot said gently: “I know. That is quite true. The thing was impossible. It was impossible, butit was also true! There could be only one logical meaning behind Louise Bourget’s words.

“So I returned to the beginning and reviewed the crime in the light of this new knowledge. Wasit possible that in the period preceding the quarrel Simon Doyle had left the saloon and the othershad forgotten or not noticed it? I could not see that it was possible. Could the skilled testimony ofDr. Bessner and Mademoiselle Bowers be disregarded? Again I felt sure it could not. But, Iremembered, there was a gap between the two. Simon Doyle had been alone in the saloon for aperiod of five minutes, and the skilled testimony of Dr. Bessner only applied²¹ to the time after thatperiod. For that period we had only the evidence of visual appearance, and, though apparently²² thatwas perfectly sound, it was no longer certain. What had actually been seen—leaving assumptionout of the question?

“Mademoiselle Robson had seen Mademoiselle de Bellefort fire her pistol, had seen SimonDoyle collapse²³ on to a chair, had seen him clasp a handkerchief to his leg and seen thathandkerchief gradually soak through red. What had Monsieur Fanthorp heard and seen? He hearda shot, he found Doyle with a red-stained handkerchief clasped to his leg. What had happenedthen? Doyle had been very insistent²⁴ that Mademoiselle de Bellefort should be got away, that sheshould not be left alone. After that, he suggested that Fanthorp should get hold of the doctor.

“Accordingly Mademoiselle Robson and Monsieur Fanthorp got out with Mademoiselle deBellefort and for the next five minutes they are busy, on the port side of the deck. MademoiselleBowers’, Dr. Bessner’s and Mademoiselle de Bellefort’s cabins are all on the port side. Twominutes are all that Simon Doyle needs. He picks up the pistol from under the sofa, slips out of hisshoes, runs like a hare silently along the starboard deck, enters his wife’s cabin, creeps up to her asshe lies asleep, shoots her through the head, puts the bottle that has contained the red ink on herwashstand (it mustn’t be found on him), runs back, gets hold of Mademoiselle Van Schuyler’svelvet stole, which he has quietly stuffed down the side of a chair in readiness, muffles²⁵ it round thepistol and fires a bullet into his leg. His chair into which he falls (in genuine agony this time) is bya window. He lifts the window and throws the pistol (wrapped up with the telltale handkerchief inthe velvet stole) into the Nile.”

“Impossible!” said Race.

“No, my friend, not impossible. Remember the evidence of Tim Allerton. He heard a pop—followed by a splash. And he heard something else—the footsteps of a man running—a manrunning past his door. But nobody could have been running along the starboard side of the deck.

What he heard was the stockinged feet of Simon Doyle running past his cabin.”

Race said: “I still say it’s impossible. No man could work out the whole caboodle like that in aflash—especially a chap like Doyle who is slow in his mental processes.”

“But very quick and deft²⁶ in his physical actions!”

“That, yes. But he wouldn’t be capable of thinking the whole thing out.”

“But he did not think it out himself, my friend. That is where we were all wrong. It looked like acrime committed on the spur of the moment, but it was not a crime committed on the spur of themoment. As I say, it was a very cleverly planned and well thought out piece of work. It could notbe chance that Simon Doyle had a bottle of red ink in his pocket. No, it must be design. It was notchance that Jacqueline de Bellefort’s foot kicked the pistol under the settee, where it would be outof sight and unremembered until later.”

“Jacqueline?”

“Certainly. The two halves of the murder. What gave Simon his alibi²⁷? The shot fired byJacqueline. What gave Jacqueline her alibi? The insistence²⁸ of Simon which resulted in a hospitalnurse remaining with her all night. There, between the two of them, you get all the qualities yourequire—the cool, resourceful, planning brain, Jacqueline de Bellefort’s brain, and the man ofaction to carry it out with incredible swiftness and timing²⁹.”

“Look at it the right way, and it answers every question. Simon Doyle and Jacqueline had beenlovers. Realize that they are still lovers, and it is all clear. Simon does away with his rich wife,inherits her money, and in due course will marry his old love. It was all very ingenious. Thepersecution of Madame Doyle by Jacqueline, all part of the plan. Simon’s pretended rage…Andyet—there were lapses³⁰. He held forth³¹ to me once about possessive women—held forth with realbitterness. It ought to have been clear to me that it was his wife he was thinking about—notJacqueline. Then his manner to his wife in public. An ordinary, inarticulate Englishman, such asSimon Doyle, is very embarrassed at showing any affection. Simon was not a really good actor.

He overdid³² the devoted³³ manner. That conversation I had with Mademoiselle Jacqueline, too, whenshe pretended that somebody had overheard, I saw no one. And there was no one! But it was to bea useful red herring later. Then one night on this boat I thought I heard Simon and Linnet outsidemy cabin. He was saying, ‘We’ve got to go through with it now.’ It was Doyle all right, but it wasto Jacqueline he was speaking.

“The final drama was perfectly planned and timed. There was a sleeping draught³⁴ for me, in caseI might put an inconvenient³⁵ finger in the pie. There was the selection of Mademoiselle Robson as awitness—the working up of the scene, Mademoiselle de Bellefort’s exaggerated remorse³⁶ andhysterics. She made a good deal of noise, in case the shot should be heard. En vérité, it was anextraordinarily clever idea. Jacqueline says she has shot Doyle; Mademoiselle Robson says so;Fanthorp says so—and 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 riskto Simon Doyle, but it is necessary that his wound should definitely disable him.

“And then the plan goes wrong. Louise Bourget has been wakeful. She has come up thestairway and she has seen Simon Doyle run along to his wife’s cabin and come back. Easy enoughto piece together what has happened the following day. And so she makes her greedy bit for hushmoney, and in so doing signs her death warrant.”

“But Mr. Doyle couldn’t have killed her?” Cornelia objected.

“No, the other partner did that murder. As soon as he can, Simon Doyle asks to see Jacqueline.

He even asks me to leave them alone together. He tells her then of the new danger. They must actat once. He knows where Bessner’s scalpels are kept. After the crime the scalpel is wiped andreturned, and then, very late and rather out of breath, Jacqueline de Bellefort hurries in to lunch.

“And still all is not well, for Madame Otterbourne has seen Jacqueline go into Louise Bourget’scabin. And she comes hot- foot to tell Simon about it. Jacqueline is the murderess. Do youremember how Simon shouted at the poor woman? Nerves, we thought. But the door was openand he was trying to convey the danger to his accomplice³⁷. She heard and she acted—acted likelightning. She remembered Pennington had talked about a revolver. She got hold of it, crept upoutside the door, listened and, at the critical moment, fired. She boasted once that she was a goodshot, and her boast was not an idle one.

“I remarked after that third crime that there were three ways the murderer could have gone. Imeant that he could have gone aft (in which case Tim Allerton was the criminal), he could havegone over the side (very improbable) or he could have gone into a cabin. Jacqueline’s cabin wasjust two away from Dr. Bessner’s. She had only to throw down the revolver, bolt into the cabin,ruffle her hair and fling herself down on the bunk³⁸. It was risky³⁹, but it was the only possiblechance.”

There was a silence, then Race asked: “What happened to the first bullet fired at Doyle by thegirl?”

“I think it went into the table. There is a recently made hole there. I think Doyle had time to digit⁴⁰ out with a penknife and fling it through the window. He had, of course, a spare cartridge⁴¹, so thatit would appear that only two shots had been fired.”

Cornelia sighed. “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 arewrong. They didn’t allow for Hercule Poirot.”

Aloud he said, “And now, Doctor, we will go and have a word with your patient.”

 

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