Death on the Nile / Смерть на Ниле. Агата КристиЧитать онлайн книгу.

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target="_blank" rel="nofollow" href="#n137" type="note">[137]”

      Poirot shook his head.

      “You have not seen the end of it yet. No – the end is not yet at hand.[138] I am very sure of that.”

      “I say, Monsieur Poirot, you're not very encouraging.”

      Poirot looked at him with a slight feeling of irritation.

      Linnet Doyle – Jacqueline de Bellefort – both of them took the business seriously enough. But in Simon's attitude he could find nothing but male impatience and annoyance. He said: “You will permit me an impertinent question? Was it your idea to come to Egypt for your honeymoon?”

      Simon flushed.

      “No, of course not. As a matter of fact I'd rather have gone anywhere else, but Linnet was absolutely set upon it.”

      Poirot thought to himself: “I have now heard three separate accounts of the affair – Linnet Doyle's, Jacqueline de Bellefort's, Simon Doyle's. Which of them is nearest to the truth?”

      Chapter 6

      Simon and Linnet Doyle set off on their expedition to Philae about eleven o'clock the following morning. Jacqueline de Bellefort, sitting on the hotel balcony, watched them set off in the picturesque sailing boat. What she did not see was the departure of a car with luggage, and in which sat a maid from the hotel. It turned to the right in the direction of Shellal. Hercule Poirot decided to pass the remaining two hours before lunch on the island of Elephantine, immediately opposite the hotel.

      He went down to the landing stage[139]. There was a young man just stepping into one of the hotel boats, and Poirot joined him. The young man had arrived by train the day before. He was tall, dark-haired, with a thin face and a pugnacious chin. He was wearing an extremely dirty pair of grey flannel trousers and a high-necked polo jumper unsuited to the climate. The young man deliberately turned his back on Poirot[140] and proceeded to admire the Nubian boatman steering the boat with his toes[141] as he manipulated the sail with his hands.

      It was very peaceful on the water, the great smooth slippery black rocks gliding by and the soft breeze fanning their faces. Elephantine was reached very quickly and on going ashore Poirot made straight for the Museum[142]. The young man in the flannel trousers strolled listlessly round the Museum, yawning from time to time, and then escaped to the outer air.

      Presently Poirot, seeing a green sunshade which he recognized on the rocks down by the river, escaped in that direction.

      Mrs Allerton was sitting on a large rock, a book on her lap[143].

      Poirot removed his hat politely and Mrs Allerton at once entered into conversation.

      “Good-morning,” she said. “I suppose it would be quite impossible to get rid of some of these awful children.”

      A group of small black figures surrounded her, all grinning and holding out imploring hands[144] as they repeated “Bakshish” at intervals, hopefully.

      “I thought they'd get tired of me,” said Mrs Allerton sadly. “They've been watching me for over two hours now – and they come closer to me little by little, and then I yell and brandish my sunshade at them and they scatter for a minute or two[145]. And then they come back again.”

      She laughed ruefully.

      “If there were only any peace in Egypt, I should like it better,” said Mrs Allerton. “But you can never be alone anywhere. Someone is always asking you for money, or offering you donkeys, or beads, or expeditions to native villages.”

      “It is the great disadvantage, that is true,” agreed Poirot.

      He spread his handkerchief on the rock and sat upon it.

      “Your son is not with you this morning?” he went on.

      “No, Tim had some letters to send before we leave. We're doing the trip to the Second Cataract, you know.”

      “I, too.”

      “I'm so glad. I want to tell you that I'm quite thrilled to meet you. I saw you from my window walking down the drive with Simon Doyle this morning. Do tell me what you make of him?[146] We're all so excited about him.”

      “Ah? Truly?”

      “Yes. You know his marriage to Linnet Ridgeway was the greatest surprise. She was supposed to be going to marry Lord Windlesham and then suddenly she gets engaged to this man no one had ever heard of!”

      “You know her well, Madame?”

      “No, but a cousin of mine, Joanna Southwood, is one of her best friends.”

      “Ah, yes, I have read that name in the papers.” He was silent a moment and then went on, “She is a young lady very much in the news, Mademoiselle Joanna Southwood.”

      “Oh, she knows how to advertise herself all right,” snapped Mrs Allerton.

      “You do not like her, Madame?”

      “You see I'm old-fashioned. I don't like her much. Tim and she are the greatest friends, though.”

      “I see,” said Poirot.

      His companion shot a quick look at him.[147] She changed the subject.

      “How very few young people there are out here! That pretty girl with the chestnut hair and the appalling mother in the turban is almost the only young creature in the place. You have talked to her a good deal, I notice.

      “Tim and I call her the 'sulky girl.' I've tried to talk to her once or twice, but she's snubbed me on each occasion. However I believe she's going on this Nile trip too, and I expect we'll have to be more or less all matey together, shan't we?

      “Tim tells me that that dark girl – her name is de Bellefort – is the girl who was engaged to Simon Doyle. It's rather awkward for them – meeting like this.”

      “It is awkward – yes,” agreed Poirot.

      Mrs Allerton shot a quick glance at him.

      “ You know, it may sound foolish, but she almost frightened me.”

      Poirot nodded his head slowly.

      “A great force of emotion is always frightening, Madame.”

      “Do people interest you too, Monsieur Poirot? Or do you reserve your interest for potential criminals?”

      “Madame – that category would not leave many people outside it.”

      Mrs Allerton looked startled.

      “Do you really mean that? Even I perhaps?”

      “Mothers, Madame, are particularly ruthless when their children are in danger.”

      She said gravely, “I think that's true – yes, you're quite right.”

      She was silent a minute or two, then she said, smiling: “I'm trying to imagine motives for crime suitable for everyone in the hotel. It's quite entertaining. Simon Doyle for instance?”

      Poirot said, smiling: “A very simple crime – a direct shortcut to his objective.”

      “And Linnet?”

      “That would be like the Queen in your Alice in Wonderland, 'Off with her head.'”[148]

      “And the dangerous girl – Jacqueline de Bellefort – could she do a murder?”

      Poirot hesitated for a minute or two, then he said doubtfully, “Yes, I think she could.”

      “But

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