Death On The Nile - Christie Agatha. Страница 10

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."

It was not offensively said--only 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, M. 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?" murmured Poirot politely. "Oh yes, I will do so. The matter is perfectly simple."

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

"Before I met my husband, he was engaged t) a Miss de Bellefort. She was also a friend of mine. My husband broke off his engagement to her-they were not suited in any way. 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 adopted the extraordinary course of-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 honeymoon?"

"Yes. It happened-the first time-at Venice. She was thereat Daniellfs. I thought it was just coincidence. Rather embarrassing, but that was all. Then, we found her on board the boat at Brindisi. We · we understood that she was going on to Palestine. We left her, as we thought, on the boat. But but when we got to

Mena House she was therwaiting for us."

Poirot nodded.

"And now!"

"We came up the Nile by boat. I-I was half expecting to find her on board.

When she wasn't there I thought she had stopped being soso childish. But when we got here-sheshe was here-waiting."

Poirot eyed her keenly for a moment. She was still perfectly composed, but the knuckles of the.hand that was gripping the table were white with the force of her grip.

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 utterly 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-they go by the board!

There are other-stronger emotions."

"Yes, possibly." Linnet spoke impatiently. "But what on earth can she hope to gain by all this?"

"It is not always a question of gain, Madame."

Something in his tone struck Linnet disagreeably. She flushed and said quickly:

"You are right. A discussion of motives is beside the point. The crux of the matter is that this has got to be stopped."

"And how do you propose that that should be accomplished, Madame?" Poirot asked.

"Well-naturally-my husband and I cannot continue being subjected to this annoyance. There must be some kind of legal redress against 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?" "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-eh bien- what of it? The air is free to all! There is no question of her forcing herself upon your privacy? 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 placidly: "Nothing at all as far as I can see. Mademoiselle de Bellefort is within her rights." "But but it is maddening! It is intolerable that I should have to put up with this!" Poirot said dryly: "I sympathise with you, Madameespecially as I imagine that you have not often had to put up with things." 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-werun away? As though as though--" She stopped.

"Exactly, Madame. As though-! It is all there, is it not?" Linnet lifted her head and stared at him.

"What do you mean?" Poirot altered his tone. He leant forward, his voice was confidential, appealing. He said very gently: "Why do you mind so much, Madame?" "Why? But it's maddening! Irritating to the last degree! I've told you why!" Poirot shook his head.

"Not altogether." Linnet said again: "What do you mean?" Poirot leant back, folded his arms and spoke in a detached impersonal manner. "Ecoutez, Madame, I will recount to you a little history. It is that one day a month or two ago I am dining in a restaurant in London. At the table next to me are two people, a man and a girl. They are very happy, so it seems, very much in love.

They talk with confidence of the future. It is not that I listen to what is not meant for me-they are quite oblivious of who hears them and who does not. The man's back is to me, but I can watch the girl's face. It is very intense. She is in love heart, soul and body, and she is not of those who love lightly and often. With her it is clearly the life and the death. They are engaged to be married, these two, that is what I gather, and they talk of where they shall pass the days of their honeymoon.

They plan to go to Egypt." He paused. Linnet said sharply.

"Well?" Poirot went on.

"That is a month or two ago, but the girl's face I do not forget it. I know that I shall remember if I see it again. And I remember too the man's voice. And I think you can guess, Madame, when it is I see the one and hear the other again. It is here in Egypt. The man is on his honeymoon yes--but he is on his honeymoon with another woman."

Linnet said sharply:

"What of it? I had already mentioned the facts." "The facts-yes." "Well then?" Poirot said slowly:

"The girl in the restaurant mentioned a friend-a friend whom she was very positive would not let her down. That friend, I think, was you, Madame." Linnet flushed.

"Yes. I told you we had been friends." "And she trusted you?" "Yes."

She hesitated for a moment, biting her lip impatiently, then as Poirot did not seem disposed to speak she broke out.

"Of course, the whole thing was very unfortunate. But these things happen, M. Poirot."

"Ah! yes, they happen, Madame." He paused. "You are of the Church of England, I presume?"

"Yes." Linnet looked slightly bewildered.

"Then you have heard portions of the Bible read aloud in church. You have heard of King David and of the rich man who had many flocks and herds and the poor man who had one ewe lamband of how the rich man took the poor man's one ewe lamb. That was something that happened, Madame." Linnet sat up. Her eyes flashed angrily.

"I see perfectly what you are driving at, M. Poirot! You think, to put it vulgarly, that I stole my friend's young man, Looking at the matter sentimentally-which is, I suppose, the way people of your generation cannot help looking at things-that is possibly true. But the real hard truth is different. I don't deny that Jackie was passionately in love with Simon, but I don't think you take into account that he may not have been equally devoted to her. He was very fond of her, but I think that even before he met me he was beginning to feel that he had made a mistake. Look at it clearly, M. Poirot. Simon discovers that it is I he loves, not Jackie. What is he to do? Be heroically noble and marry a woman he does not care for-and thereby probably ruin three lives-for it is doubtful whether he could make Jackie happy under these circumstances-? If he were actually married to her when he met me I agree that it might be his duty to stick to her-though I'm not really sure of that. If one person is unhappy the other suffers too. But an engagement is not really binding. If a mistake has been made, then surely it is better to face the fact before it is too late. I admit that it was very hard on Jackie and I'm terribly sorry about it but there it is. It was inevitable."