Агата Кристи – Death on the Nile / Смерть на Ниле (страница 9)

Hercule Poirot looked around the terrace and its occupants. Was he wrong, or was there the same hush of expectancy there? It was like a moment on the stage when one is waiting for the entrance of the leading lady. And just at that moment the swing doors began to revolve once more. Everyone had stopped talking and was looking toward them.

A dark slender girl in a wine coloured evening dress came through. She paused for a minute, then walked deliberately across the terrace and sat down at an empty table.

“Well,” said Mrs Otterbourne. She tossed her turbaned head. “She seems to think she is somebody, that girl!”

Poirot did not answer. He was watching. The girl had sat down in a place where she could look deliberately across at Linnet Doyle. Presently, Poirot noticed, Linnet Doyle leant forward and said something and a moment later got up and changed her seat. She was now sitting facing in the opposite direction.

Poirot nodded thoughtfully to himself.

It was about five minutes later that the other girl changed her seat to the opposite side of the terrace. She sat smoking and smiling quietly. But always, as though unconsciously, her meditative gaze was on Simon Doyle's wife.

After a quarter of an hour Linnet Doyle got up abruptly and went into the hotel. Her husband followed her almost immediately.

Jacqueline de Bellefort smiled and turned her chair round. She lit a cigarette and stared out over the Nile. She went on smiling to herself.

Chapter 3

“Monsieur Poirot.”

Poirot got hastily to his feet. He had remained sitting out on the terrace alone after everyone else had left. Lost in meditation, he startled when he heard his name. It was an assured, charming voice, although perhaps a little arrogant.

Hercule Poirot, rising quickly, looked into the eyes of Linnet Doyle. She wore a wrap of purple velvet over her white satin gown and she looked more lovely and more regal than Poirot had imagined possible.

“You are Monsieur Hercule Poirot?” said Linnet.

It was hardly a question.

“At your service, Madame.”

“You know who I am, perhaps?”

“Yes, Madame. I have heard your name. I know exactly who you are.” Linnet nodded. That was only what she had expected. She went on, in her charming manner: “Will you come with me into the card room, Monsieur Poirot? I am very anxious to speak to you.”

“Certainly, Madame.”

She led the way into the hotel. He followed. She led him into the card room and asked him to close the door. Then she sank down on a chair at one of the tables and he sat down opposite her. She went straight to the point.[85]

“I have heard a great deal about you[86], Monsieur Poirot, and I know that you are a very clever man. I am in need of someone to help me – and I think that you are the man who could do it.”

Poirot inclined his head.

“You are very amiable, Madame, but you see, I am on holiday, and when I am on holiday I do not take cases.”

“That could be arranged.”[87]

It was said with the quiet confidence of a young woman who had always been able to arrange matters to her satisfaction.

Linnet Doyle went on: “I am the subject, Monsieur Poirot, of an intolerable persecution. That persecution has got to stop! My own idea was to go to the police about it, but my – my husband seems to think that the police would be powerless to do anything.”

“Perhaps – if you would explain a little further?”[88] murmured Poirot politely.

“Oh, yes, I will do so. The matter is perfectly simple.”

There was still no hesitation. Linnet Doyle had a clear-cut businesslike mind. She only paused a minute to present the facts as clear as possible.

“Before I met my husband, he was engaged to a Miss de Bellefort[89]. She was also a friend of mine. My husband broke off his engagement to her – they were not suited in any way[90]. She, I am sorry to say, took it rather hard. I – am very sorry about that – but these things cannot be helped. She made certain – well, threats – to which I paid very little attention, and which, I may say, she has not attempted to carry out. But instead she has taken the extraordinary course of following us about wherever we go.” Poirot raised his eyebrows.

“Ah – rather an unusual – er – revenge.”

“Very unusual – and very ridiculous! But also – annoying.” She bit her lip.

Poirot nodded.

“Yes, I can imagine that. You are, I understand, on your honey-moon?”

“Yes. It happened – the first time – at Venice. I thought it just an embarrassing coincidence – that was all. Then we found her on board the boat at Brindisi[91]. We've understood that she was going on to Palestine. We left her, as we thought, on the boat. But when we got to the hotel she was there – waiting for us.”

Poirot nodded.

“And now?”

“We came up the Nile by boat. I was half expecting to find her on board. When she wasn't there I thought she had stopped being so childish. But when we got here she was here – waiting.”

Poirot eyed her for a moment. She was still perfectly quiet, but the knuckles of the hand that was gripping the table were white.

He said, “And you are afraid this state of things may continue?”

“Yes.” She paused. “Of course the whole thing is idiotic! Jacqueline is making herself ridiculous. I am surprised she hasn't got more pride – more dignity.”

Poirot made a slight gesture.

“There are times, Madame, when pride and dignity go by the board[92]! There are other – stronger emotions.”

Something in his tone didn't please Linnet. She flushed and said quickly: “Perhaps. But the crux of the matter is that this has got to be stopped.”

“And how do you propose that that should be done, Madame?” Poirot asked.

“Well – naturally – my husband and I cannot continue being persecuted. There must be some kind of legal way to stop such a thing.”

She spoke impatiently. Poirot looked at her thoughtfully as he asked:

“Has she threatened you in actual words in public? Used insulting language? Attempted any bodily harm?[93]”

“No.”

“Then, frankly, Madame, I do not see what you can do. If it is a young lady's pleasure to travel in certain places, and those places are the same where you and your husband find yourselves – what of it? The air is free to all! It is always in public that these encounters take place?”

“You mean there is nothing that I can do about it?”

Linnet sounded incredulous.

Poirot said quietly: “Nothing at all as far as I can see. Mademoiselle de Bellefort is within her rights[94].”

“But it is maddening! It is intolerable that I should have to put up with this!”

Poirot said drily, “I sympathize with you, Madame.”

Linnet was frowning.

“There must be some way of stopping it,” she murmured.

Poirot shrugged his shoulders.

“You can always leave – move on somewhere else,” he suggested.

“ Then she will follow!”

“Very possibly – yes.”

“It's absurd!”

“Precisely.”

“Anyway, why should I – we – run away? As though – as though – ” She stopped.

“Exactly, Madame. As though! It is all there, is it not?[95]”

Linnet lifted her head and stared at him.