Poirot half rose to bow to Jacqueline de Bellefort who had just come in and passed their table on the way to her own. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes bright, and her breath came a little unevenly. As he resumed his seat Poirot seemed to have forgotten Tim's question. He murmured vaguely: "I wonder if all young ladies with valuable jewels are as careless as Madame Doyle was?" "It is true, then, that they were stolen?" asked Mrs. Allerton.
"Who told you so, Madame?" "Ferguson said so," said Tim.
Poirot nodded gravely. "It is quite true.' "I suppose," said Mrs. Allerton nervously, "that this will mean a lot of unpleasantness for all of us. Tim says it will." Her son scowled. But Poirot had turned to him.
"Ah! you have had previous experience, perhaps? You have been in a house where there was a robbery?" "Never," said Tim.
"Oh, yes, darling, you were at the Portarlingtons that time--when that awful woman's diamonds were stolen." "You always get things hopelessly wrong, Mother. I was there when it was discovered that the diamonds she was wearing round her fat neck were only paste!
The actual substitution was probably done months earlier--as a matter of fact a lot of people said she'd had it done herselff' "Joanna said so, I expect." "Joanna wasn't there." "But she knew them quite well. And it's very like her to make that kind of suggestion." "You're always down on Joanna, Mother." Poirot hastily changed the subject. He had it in mind to make a really big purchase at one of the Assuan shops. Some very attractive purple and gold material at one of the Indian merchants. There would, of course, be the duty to pay, but-- "They tell me that they can how do you say---expedite it for me? And that the charges will not be too high. How think you, will it arrive all right?" Mrs. Allerton said that many people, so she had heard, had had things sent straight to England from the shops in question and that everything had arrived safely.
"Bien. Then I will do that. But the trouble one has, when one is abroad, if a parcel comes out from England! Have you had experience of that? Have you had any parcels arrive since you have been on your travels?" "I don't think we have, have we, Tim? You get books sometimes but of course there is never any trouble about them." "Ah, no, books are different." Dessert had been served. Now, without any previous warning, Colonel Race stood up and made his speech.
He touched on the circumstances of the crime and announced the theft of the pearls. A search of the boat was about to be instituted, and he would be obliged if all the passengers would remain in the saloon until this was completed. Then, after all, if the passengers agreed, as he was sure they would, they themselves would be kind enough to submit to a search.
Poirot slipped nimbly along to his side. There was a little buzz and hum all round them. Voices doubtful, indignant, excited .
Poirot reached Race's side and murmured something in his ear just as the latter was about to leave the dining-saloon.
Race listened, nodded assent, and beckoned a steward.
He said a few brief words to him, then, together with Poirot he passed out on to the deck, closing the door behind him.
They stood for a minute or two by the rail. Race lit a cigarette.
"Not a bad idea of yours," he said. "We'll soon see if there's anything in it. I'll give 'em three minutes." The door of the dining-saloon opened and the same steward to whom they had spoken came out. He saluted Race and said: "Quite right, sir. There's a lady who says it's urgent she should speak to you at once without any delay." "Ah!" Race's face showed his satisfaction. "Who is it?"
"Miss Bowers, sir, the hospital nurse lady." A slight shade of surprise showed on Race's face. He said: "Bring her to the smoking-room. Don't let any one else leave." "No, sir--the other steward will attend to that." He went back into the dining-room. Poirot and Race went to the smoking-room.
"Bowers, eh?" murmured Race.
They had hardly got inside the smoking-room before the steward reappeared with Miss Bowers. He ushered her in and left, shutting the door behind him.
"Well, Miss Bowers?" Colonel Race looked at her inquiringly. "What's all this?" Miss Bowers looked her usual composed unhurried self. She displayed no particular emotion.
"You'll excuse me, Colonel Race," she said. "But under the circumstances I thought the best thing to do would be to speak to you at once"--she opened her neat black handbag. "--and to return you these.' She took out a string of pearls and laid them on the table.
CHAPTER 20
If Miss Bowers had been the kind of woman who enjoyed creating a sensation, she would have been richly repaid by the result of her action.
A look of utter astonishment passed over Colonel Race's face as he picked up the pearls from the table.
"This is most extraordinary," he said. "Will you kindly explain, Miss Bowers?" "Of course. That's what I've come to do." Miss Bowers settled herself comfortably in a chair. "Naturally it was a little difficult for me to decide what it was best for me to do. The family would naturally be averse to scandal of any kind, and they trust my discretion, but the circumstances are so very unusual that it really leaves me no choice. Of course, when you didn't find anything in the cabins your next move would be a search of the passengers, and if the pearls were then found in my possession it would be rather an awkward situation and the truth would come out just the same." "And just what is the truth? Did you take these pearls from Mrs. Doyle's cabin?" "Oh, no, Colonel Race, of course not. Miss Van Schuyler did." "Miss Van Schuyler?" "Yes. She can't help it, you know, but she does ertake things. Especially jewellery. That's really why I'm always with her--it's not her health at all it's this little idiosyncrasy. I keep on the alert and fortunately there's never been any trouble since I've been with her. It just-means being watchful, you know. And she always hides the things she takes in the same placrolled up in a pair of stockings--so that makes it very simple. I look each morning. Of course, I'm a light sleeper, and I always sleep next door to her and with the communicating door open if it's in a hotel so that I usually hear. Then I go after her and persuade her to go back to bed. Of course it's been rather more difficult on a boat. But she doesn't usually do it at night. It's more just picking up things that she sees left about. Of course, pearls have a great attraction for her always." Miss Bowers ceased speaking.
Race asked:
"How did you discover they had been taken?"
"They were in her stockings this morning. I knew whose they were, of course.
I've often noticed them. I went along to put them back, hoping that Mrs. Doyle wasn't up yet and hadn't discovered her loss. But there was a steward standing there and he told me about the murder and that no one could go in. So then, you see, I was in a regular quandary. But I still hoped to slip them back in the cabin later before their absence had been noticed. I can assure you I've passed a very unpleasant morning wondering what was the best thing to do. You see the Van Schuyler family is so vertj particular and exclusive. It would never do if this got into the newspapers. But that won't be necessary, will it?"
Miss Bowers really looked worried.
"That depends on circumstances," said Colonel Race cautiously. "But we shall do our best for you, of course. What does Miss Van Schuyler say to this?"
"Oh, she'll deny it, of course. She always does. Says some wicked person has put it there. She never admits taking anything. That's why if you catch her in time she goes back to bed like a lamb. Says she just went out to look at the moon.
Something like that."
"Does Miss Robson know about this er--failing?"
"No, she doesn't. Her mother knows, but she's a very simple kind of girl and her mother thought it best she should know nothing about it. I was quite equal to dealing with Miss Van Schuyler," added the competent Miss Bowers.
"We have to thank you, Mademoiselle, for coming to us so promptly," said Poirot.
Miss Bowers stood up.
"I'm sure I hope I've acted for the best."
"Be assured that you have,"
"You see what with there being a murder as well-"
Colonel
Race interrupted her. His voice was grave.
"Miss Bowers. I am going to ak you a question and I want to impress upon you that it has got to be answered truthfully. Miss Van Schuyler is unhinged mentally to the extent of being a kleptomaniac. Has she also a tendency to homicidal mania?"
Miss Bower's answer came immediately.
"Oh, dear me, no! Nothing of the kind. You can take my word for it absolutely.
The old lady wouldn't hurt a fly."
The reply came with such positive assurance that there seemed nothing more to be said. Nevertheless Poirot did interpolate one mild inquiry.
"Does Miss Van Schuyler suffer at all from deafness?"
"As a matter of fact she does, M. Poirot. Not so that you'd notice it anyway, not ffyou were speaking to her, I mean. But quite often she doesn't hear you come into a room. Things like that."
"Do you think she would have heard any one moving about in Mrs, Doyle's cabin which is next door to her own?"
"Oh, I shouldn't think so--not for a minute. You see, the bunk is the other side of the cabin, not even against the partition wall. No, I don't think she would have heard anything." "Thank you, Miss Bowers." Race said: "Perhaps you will now go back to the dining-saloon and wait with the others?" He opened the door for her and watched her go down the staircase and enter the saloon. Then he shut the door and came back to the table. Poirot had picked up the pearls.
"Well," said Race grimly. "That reaction came pretty quickly. That's a very cool-headed and astute young woman--perfecfiy capable of holding out on us still further if she thinks it suits her book. What about Miss Van Schuyler now? I don't think we can eliminate her from the possible suspects. You know, she might have committed murder to get hold of those jewels. We can't take the nurse's word for it. She's all out to do the best for the family." Poirot nodded in agreement. He was very busy with the pearls running them through his fingers, holding them up to his eyes.
He said: "We may take it, I think, that part of the old lady's story to us was true. She did look out of her cabin and she did see Rosalie Otterbourne. But I don't think she heard anything or any one in Linnet Doyle's cabin. I think she was just peering out from her cabin preparatory to slipping along and purloining the pearls," "The Otterbourne girl was there, then?" "Yes. Throwing her mother's secret cache of drink overboard." Colonel Rhce shook his head sympathetically. "So that's it! Tough on a young 'un." "Yes, her life has not been very gay, cette pauvre-petite Rosalie." "Well, I'm glad that's been cleared up. She didn't see or hear anything?" "I asked her that. She responded--after a lapse of quite twenty seconds--that she saw nobody." "Oh?" Race looked alert.
"Yes, it is suggestive, that." Race said slowly: "If Linnet Doyle was shot round about ten minutes past one or indeed any time after the boat had quieted down--it has seemed amazing to me that no one heard the shot. I grant you that a little pistol like that wouldn't make much noise, but all the same the boat would be deadly quiet and any noise, even a gentle pop, should have been heard. But I begin to understand better now. The cabin on the forward side of hers was unoccupied-since her husband was in Dr. Bessner's cabin. The one aft was occupied by the Van Schuyler woman who was deaf. That leaves only--" He paused and looked expectantly at Poirot who nodded.
"The cabin next to hers on the other side of the boat. In other words--Pennington.
We always seem to come back to Pennington." "We will come back to him presently with the kid gloves removed! Ah, yes, I am promising myself that pleasure." "In the meantime we'd better get on with our search of the boat. The pearls still make a convenient excuse even though they have been returned--but Miss Bowers is not likely to advertise that fact." "Ah, these pearls." Poirot held them up against the light once more. He stuck out his tongue and licked them--he even gingerly tried one of them between his teeth. Then, with a sigh, he threw them down on the table.
"Here are more complications, my friend," he said. "I am 'not an expert on precious stones, but I have had a good deal to do with them in my time and I am fairly certain of what I say. These pearls are only a clever imitation."
CHAPTER 21
Colonel Race swore lustily.
"This damned case gets more and more involved." He picked up the pearls. "I suppose you've not made a mistake? They look all right to me." "They are a very good imitation--yes." "Now where does that lead us? I suppose Linnet Doyle didn't deliberately have an imitation made and bring it aboard with her for safety. Many women do." "I think, if that were so, her husband would know about it." "She may not have told him." Poirot shook his head in a dissatisfied manner.
"No, I do not think that is so. I was admiring Mrs. Doyle's pearls the first evening on the boat--their wonderful sheen and lustre. I am sure that she was wearing the genuine ones then." "That brings us up against two possibilities. First, that Miss Van Schuyler only stole the imitation string after the real ones had been stolen by some one else.
Second, that the whole kleptomaniac story is a fabrication. Either Miss Bowers is a thief and quickly invented the story and allayed suspicion by handing over the false pearls, or else that whole party is in it together. That is to say, they are a gang of clever jewel thieves masquerading as an exclusive American family." "Yes," Poirot murmured. "It is difficult to say. But I will point out to you one thing--to make a perfect and exact copy of the pearls, clasp and all, good enough to stand a chance of deceiving Mrs. Doyle is a highly skilled technical performance. It could not be done in a hurry. Whoever copied those pearls must have had a good opportunity of studying the original." Race rose to his feet.
"Useless to speculate about it any further now. Let's get on with the job.
We've got to find the real pearls. And at the same time we'll keep our eyes open." They disposed first of the cabins occupied on the lower deck.
That of Signor Richetti contained various archaeological works in different languages, a varied assortment of clothing, hair lotions of a highly-scented kind and two personal letters--one from an archaeological expedition in Syria, and one from, apparently, a sister in Rome. His handkerchiefs were all of coloured silk.
They passed on to Ferguson's cabin.
There was a sprinkling of communistic literature, a good many snapshots, Samuel Butler's Erewhon and a cheap edition of Pepys' Diary. His personal possessions were not many--most of what outer clothing there was, was torn and dirty, the underclothing, on the other hand; was of really good quality. The handkerchiefs were expensive linen ones.
"Some interesting discrepancies," murmured Poirot.
Race nodded.
"Rather odd that there are absolutely no personal papers, letters, etc." "Yes, that gives one to think. An odd young man, M. Ferguson." He looked thoughtfully at a signet ring he held in his hand, before replacing it in the drawer where he had found it.
They went along to the cabin occupied by Louise Bourget. The maid had her meals after the other passengers, but Race had sent word that she was to be taken to join the others. A cabin steward met them.
"I'm sorry, sir," he apologised. "But I've not been able to find the young woman anywhere. I can't think where she can have got to." Race glanced inside the cabin. It was empty.
They went up to the promenade deck and started on the starboard side. The first cabin was that occupied by James Fanthorp. Here, all was in meticulous ' order. Mr. Fanthorp travelled light, but all that he had was of good quality.
"No letters," said Poirot thoughtfully. "He is careful, our Mr. Fanthorp, to destroy his correspondence." They passed on to Tim Allerton's cabin next door.
There were evidences here of an Anglo-Catholic turn of mind--an exquisite little triptych, and a big rosary, of intricately-carved wood. Besides personal clothing, there was a half-completed manuscript, a good deal annotated and scribbled over, and a good collection of books, most of them recently published.
There were also a quantity of letters thrown carelessly into a drawer. Poirot, never in the least scrupulous about reading other people's correspondence, glanc
ed through them. He noted that amongst them there were no letters from Joanna Southwood. He picked up a tube of secotine, fingered it absently for a minute or two, then said: "Let us pass on." "No Woolworth handkerchiefs," said Race, rapidly replacing the contents of a drawer.
Mrs. Allerton's cabin was the next. It was exquisitely neat and a faint, old-fashioned smell of lavender hung about it.
The two men's search was soon over. Race remarked as they left it: "Nice woman, that." The next cabin was that which had been used as a dressing-room by Simon Doyle. His immediate necessities--pyjamas, toilet things, etc., had been moved to Bessner's cabin, but the remainder of his possessions were still there, two good-sized leather suitcases and a kitbag. There were also some clothes in the wardrobe.
Agatha Christie - Death On The Nile Page 19