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

---

Скачать книгу

---

Windlesham? That's the man the papers always say you're going to marry! Are you, Linnet? Are you?”

      Linnet murmured, “Perhaps.”

      “Darling – I'm so glad! He looks nice.”

      “Oh, don't make up your mind about it – I haven't made up my own mind yet[17].”

      “Of course not! Queens are always very careful about the choosing of a consort!”

      “Don't be ridiculous, Jackie.”

      “But you are a queen, Linnet! You always were.”

      “What nonsense you talk, Jackie darling! Where have you been all this time? You just disappear. And you never write.”

      “I hate writing letters. Where have I been? In jobs, you know. Grim jobs with grim women!”

      “Darling, I wish you'd – ”

      “Take the Queen's bounty?[18] Well, frankly, darling, that's what I'm here for. No, not to borrow money. But I've come to ask a great big important favour!”

      “Go on.”

      “If you're going to marry the Windlesham man, you'll understand, perhaps.”

      Linnet looked puzzled for a minute; then her face cleared.

      “Jackie, do you mean – ”

      “Yes, darling, I'm engaged!”

      “So that's it! I thought you were looking particularly alive somehow. You always do, of course, but even more than usual.”

      “That's just what I feel like.”

      “Tell me all about him.”

      “His name's Simon Doyle. He's big and square and incredibly simple and boyish and utterly adorable! He's poor – got no money. He's what you call 'county' all right[19] – but very impoverished county – a younger son and all that. His people come from Devonshire. He loves country and country things. And for the last five years he's been in the city in a stuffy office. And now they're cutting down and he's out of a job. Linnet, I shall die if I can't marry him! I shall die! I shall die! I shall die.”

      “Don't be ridiculous, Jackie.”

      “I shall die, I tell you! I'm crazy about him. He's crazy about me. We can't live without each other.”

      “Darling, you have got it badly[20]!”

      “I know. It's awful, isn't it? But you can't do anything about it.”

      She paused for a minute. “It's – even frightening sometimes! Simon and I were made for each other. I shall never care for anyone else. And you've got to help us, Linnet. I heard you'd bought this place and it put an idea into my head. Listen, you'll have to have a land agent[21] – perhaps two. I want you to give the job to Simon.”

      “Oh!” Linnet was startled.

      Jacqueline went on: “He knows all about estates – was brought up on one. And he's got his business training too. Oh, Linnet, you will give him a job, won't you, for love of me? If he doesn't make good, sack him. But he will. And we can live in a little house, and I shall see lots of you, and everything will be divine.” She got up.

      “Say you will, Linnet. Say you will. Beautiful Linnet! Tall golden Linnet! My own very special Linnet! Say you will!”

      “Jackie – ”

      “You will?”

      Linnet burst out laughing.[22]

      “Ridiculous Jackie! Bring along your young man and let me have a look at him and we'll talk it over.”

      “Darling Linnet – you're a real friend! I knew you were. You wouldn't let me down – ever. You're just the loveliest thing in the world. Good-bye.”

      “But, Jackie, you're staying.”[23]

      “Me? No, I'm not. I'm going back to London, and tomorrow I'll come back and bring Simon and we'll settle it all up. You'll adore him. He really is a pet.”

      “But can't you wait and just have tea?”

      “No, I can't wait, Linnet. I'm too excited. I must get back and tell Simon. I know I'm mad, darling, but I can't help it. Marriage will cure me, I expect. It always seems to have a very sobering effect on people.[24]”

      She turned at the door, stood a moment, then rushed back for a last quick embrace.

      “Dear Linnet – there's no one like you.”

      Chapter 5

      M. Gaston Blondin, the proprietor of that little restaurant Chez Ma Tante, was not a man who honoured many of his clientele. Only in the rarest cases did M. Blondin greet a guest, accompany him to a privileged table, and exchange with him suitable remarks.

      On this night, M. Blondin had greeted a little man of comical appearance with immense black moustaches. He conducted the client to the table in a most favourable position.

      “But naturally, for you there is always a table, Monsieur Poirot! How I wish that you would honour us oftener.”

      Hercule Poirot smiled,

      “You are too amiable, Monsieur Blondin,” he said.

      “And you are alone, Monsieur Poirot?”

      “Yes, I am alone.”

      “Oh, well, our chef here will compose for you a little meal that will be a poem – positively a poem! Women, however charming, have this disadvantage: they distract the mind from food! You will enjoy your dinner, Monsieur Poirot; I promise you that.”

      Before departing, M. Blondin lingered a moment, lowering his voice confidentially.

      “You have grave affairs on hand?”[25]

      Poirot shook his head.

      “I am a man of leisure,” he said sadly. “I have made the economies in my time and I have now the means to enjoy a life of idleness.[26]”

      “I envy you.”

      “No, no, you would be unwise to do so. I can assure you, it is not so gay as it sounds.” He sighed. “How true is the saying that man was forced to invent work in order to escape the need to think.”

      M. Blondin threw up his hands.[27]

      “But there is so much! There is travel!”

      “Yes, there is travel. Already I have done not so badly. This winter I shall visit Egypt, I think. The climate, they say, is superb! One will escape from the fogs, the greyness, the monotony of the constantly falling rain.”

      “Ah! Egypt,” sighed M. Blondin.

      “One can even voyage there now, I believe, by train, escaping all sea travel except the Channel[28].”

      Smooth-footed, deft-handed waiters served the table.[29]

      The Negro orchestra broke into an ecstasy of strange noises. London danced.

      Hercule Poirot looked on, registering impressions in his mind.

      How bored and weary most of the faces were! Some of those stout men, however, were enjoying themselves. The fat woman in purple was looking radiant…

      A good number of young people – some bored, some definitely unhappy. How absurd to call youth the time of happiness – youth, the

---

Скачать книгу