Агата Кристи – Death on the Nile / Смерть на Ниле (страница 12)
“What is it, Mademoiselle?”
She had turned her head and was staring into the shadows.
“Someone – standing over there. He's gone now.”
Hercule Poirot looked round sharply. The place seemed quite deserted.
“There seems no one here but ourselves, Mademoiselle.” He got up. “In any case I have said all I came to say. I wish you good-night.”
Jacqueline got up too. She said almost pleadingly, “You do understand – that I can't do what you ask me to do?”
Poirot shook his head.
She stood brooding for a moment; then she lifted her head defiantly.
“Good-night, Monsieur Poirot.”
He shook his head sadly and followed her up the path to the hotel.
Chapter 5
On the following morning Simon Doyle joined Hercule Poirot leaving the hotel to walk to the town.
The two men walked side by side, passed the gateway and turned into the cool shade of the gardens. Then Simon removed his pipe from his mouth and said, “I understand, Monsieur Poirot, that my wife had a talk with you last night?”
“That is so.”
Simon Doyle was frowning a little.
“I'm glad of one thing,” he said. “You've made her realize that we're more or less powerless in the matter.”
Poirot agreed. There was a pause. Then Simon said suddenly, his face going very red as he spoke: “It's – it's infamous that she should be victimized like this! She's done nothing! If anyone likes to say I behaved like a cad, they're welcome to say so! I suppose I did. But Linnet had nothing to do with it.”
Poirot bowed his head gravely but said nothing.
“Have you – talked to Jackie – Miss de Bellefort?”
“Yes, I have spoken with her.”
“Did you get her to see sense?”
“I'm afraid not.”
Simon broke out irritably: “Can't she see what an ass she's making of herself? Doesn't she realize that no decent woman would behave as she is doing? Hasn't she got any pride or selfrespect?”
Poirot shrugged his shoulders.
“She has only a sense of – injury, shall we say?” he replied.
“Yes, but damn it all[115], decent girls don't behave like this! I admit I was entirely to blame. I treated her damned badly and all that. I should quite understand her being thoroughly fed up with me and never wishing to see me again. But this following me round – it's – it's indecent! Making a show of herself![116] What the devil does she hope to get out of it?[117]”
“Perhaps – revenge!”
“Idiotic! I'd really understand better if she'd tried to do something melodramatic – like taking a shot at me.”
“You think that would be more like her – yes?”
“Frankly I do. She's hot-blooded. I shouldn't be surprised at her doing anything like that. But this spying business – ” He shook his head.
“It is more subtle – yes! It is intelligent!”
Doyle stared at him.
“You don't understand. It's playing hell with Linnet's nerves.”
“And yours?”
Simon looked at him with surprise.
“Me? I'd like to wring the little devil's neck.[118]”
“There is nothing, then, of the old feeling left?”
“My dear Monsieur Poirot – how can I put it? When once I'd met Linnet – Jackie didn't exist.”
Again flushing, Simon said: “I suppose Jackie told you that I'd only married Linnet for her money? Well, that's a damned lie! I wouldn't marry any woman for money! What Jackie doesn't understand is that it's difficult for a fellow when – when – a woman cares for him as she cared for me.”
Poirot looked up sharply.
Simon went on, “It – it – sounds a caddish thing to say, but Jackie was too fond of me! You see, a man doesn't want to feel that a woman cares more for him than he does for her. He doesn't want to feel owned body and soul. This man is mine – he belongs to me! That's the sort of thing I can't stick[119] – no man could stick! He wants to own his woman; he doesn't want her to own him.”
He broke off, and with fingers that trembled slightly he lit a cigarette.
Poirot said, “And it is like that that you felt with Mademoiselle Jacqueline?”
“Eh?” Simon stared and then admitted: “Er – yes – well, yes, as a matter of fact I did. And it's not the sort of thing I could ever tell her. But I was feeling restless – and then I met Linnet, and she just swept me off my feet![120] I'd never seen anything so lovely. It was all so amazing. Everyone kowtowing to her – and then her singling out a poor chump like me.[121]” His tone held boyish awe and astonishment.
“I see,” said Poirot. He nodded thoughtfully. “Yes – I see.”
“The fault's all mine, I admit. But there it is! If you no longer care for a girl, it's simply madness to marry her. And, now that I see what Jackie's really like and the lengths she is likely to go to, I feel I've had rather a lucky escape.[122]”
“The lengths she is likely to go to,” Poirot repeated thoughtfully. “Have you an idea, Monsieur Doyle, what those lengths are?”
Simon frowned, then shook his head.
“What do you mean?”
“You know she carries a pistol about with her.”
Simon looked at him, rather startled.
“I don't believe she'll use that – now. She might have done so earlier. She's just spiteful now – trying to take it out of us both.[123]”
Poirot shrugged his shoulders.
“It may be so,” he said doubtfully.
“It's Linnet I'm worrying about,” declared Simon, somewhat unnecessarily.
“I quite realize that,” said Poirot.
“I'm not really afraid of Jackie doing any shooting, but this spying and following business has absolutely got Linnet on the raw[124]. I'll tell you the plan I've made. To begin with, I've announced openly that we're going to stay here ten days. But tomorrow the steamer Karnak starts from Shellal to Wadi Halfa. I propose to book passages on that under an assumed name[125]. Tomorrow we'll go on an excursion to Philae[126]. Linnet's maid can take the luggage. We'll join the Karnak at Shellal. When Jackie finds we don't come back, it will be too late – we shall be well on our way. She'll assume we have given her the slip[127] and gone back to Cairo. In fact I might even bribe the porter to say so. What do you think of my plan?”
“It is well imagined, yes. And suppose she waits here till you return?”
“We may not return. We could go on to other places. She can't follow us all over the globe. She just can't afford it.”
“I think it may work, yes. But remember, Mademoiselle de Bellefort has brains.” Then Poirot added: “I, too, shall be on the Karnak. It is part of my itinerary.”
“Oh!” Simon hesitated, then said, choosing his words with some embarrassment: “That isn't – isn't – er – on our account in any way?[128]”
Poirot convinced him quickly.
“Not at all. It was all arranged before I left London. I always make my plans well in advance[129]. To succeed in life every detail should be arranged well beforehand.”
Simon laughed and said, “That is how the more skilful murderer behaves, I suppose.”
“Yes – though I must admit that the most brilliant crime I remember and one of the most difficult to solve was committed on the spur of the moment[130].”