"We loved each other. And I loved Linnet… I trusted her. She was my best friend. All her life Linnet has been able to buy everything she wanted. She's never denied herself anything. When she saw Simon she wanted him-and she just took him."

"And he allowed himself to be bought?"

Jacqueline shook her dark head slowly.

"No, it's not quite like that. If it were I shouldn't be here now You're suggesting that Simon isn't worth caring for… If he'd married Linnet for her money that would be true. But he didn't marry her for her money. It's more complicated than that. There's such a thing as glamour, M. Poirot. And money helps that. Linnet had an 'atmosphere,' you see. She was the queen of a kingdom-the young princess-luxurious to her fingertips. It was like a stage' setting. She had the world at her feet. One of the richest and most sought after peers in England wanting to marry her. And she stoops instead to the obscure Simon Doyle… Do you wonder it went to his head?" She made a sudden gesture. "Look at the moon up there. You see her very plainly, don't you? She's very real. But if the sun were to shine you wouldn't be able to see her at all. It was rather like that. I was the moon… When the sun came out, Simon couldn't see me any more… He was dazzled. He couldn't see anything but the sun-Linnet." She paused and then went on: "So you see it was-glamour. She went to his head. And then there's her complete assurance-her habit of command. She's so sure of herself that she makes other people sure. Simon was-weak, perhaps, but then he's a very simple person.

He would have loved me and me only if Linnet hadn't come along and snatched him up in her golden chariot. And I know-I know perfectly-that he wouldn't have ever fallen in love with her if she hadn't made him." "That is what you think-yes." "I know it. He loved me he will always love me." Poirot said:

"Even now-?" A quick answer seemed to rise to her lips, then be stifled. She looked at Poirot and a deep burning colour spread over her face. She looked away, her head dropped down. She said in a low stifled voice: "Yes, I know. He hates me now. Yes, hates me He'd better be careful." With a quick gesture she fumbled in a little silk bag that lay on the seat. Then she held out her hand. On the palm of it was a small pearl-handled pistol a dainty toy it looked.

"Nice little thing, isn't it?" she said. "Looks too foolish to be real, but it is real! One of those bullets would kill a man or a woman. And I'm a good shot." She smiled a faraway reminiscent smile. "When I went home as a child with my mother to South Carolina, my grandfather taught me to shoot. He was the old-fashioned kind that believes in shooting-espeically where honour is concerned. My father, too, he fought several duels as a young man. He was a good swordsman. He killed a man once. That was over a woman. So you see, M. Poirot-" she met his eyes squarely, "I've hot blood in me! I bought this when it first happened. I meant to kill one or other of them-the trouble was I couldn't decide which. Both of them would have been unsatisfactory. If I'd thought Linnet would have looked afraid-but she's got plenty of physical courage. She can stand up to physical action. And then I thought I'd wait! That appealed to me more and more. After all I could do it any time-it would be more fun to wait and-think about it! And then this idea came to my mind-to follow them! Whenever they arrived at some faraway spot and were together and happy-they should seeme! And it worked! It got Linnet badly-in a way nothing else could have done! It got right under her skin… That was when I began to enjoy myself… And there's nothing she can do about it! I'm always perfectly pleasant and polite! There's not a word they can take hold off It's poisoning everything-everything-for them." Her laugh rang out-clear and silvery.

Poirot grasped her arm.

"Be quiet. Quiet, I tell you."

Jacqueline looked at him.

"Well?" she said.

Her smile was definitely challenging.

"Mademoiselle, I beseech you, do not do what you are doing." "Leave dear Linnet alone, you mean?" "It is deeper than that. Do not open your heart to evil." Her lips fell apart, a look of bewilderment came into her eyes.

Poirot went on gravely: "Becauseffyou do-evil will come… Yes, very surely evil will come.

It will enter in and make its home within you and after a while it will no longer be possible to drive it out." Jacqueline stared at him. Her glance seemed to waver, to flicker uncertainly.

She said, "I-don't know-"

Then she cried out defiantly:

"You can't stop me." "No," said Hercule Poirot. "I cannot stop you." His voice was sad.

"Even if I were to-kill her, you couldn't stop me."

"No-not if you were willing-to pay the price."

Jacqueline de Bellefort laughed.

"Oh, I'm not afraid of death! What have I got to live for, after all? I suppose you believe it's very wrong to kill a person who has injured you even if they've taken away everything you had in the world?"

Poirot said steadily: "Yes, Mademoiselle. I believe it is the unforgivable offenceto kill."

Jacqueline laughed again.

"Then you ought to approve of my present scheme of revenge. Because you see, as long as it works, I shan't use that pistol… But I'm afraid-yes, afraid sometimes-it all goes red-I want to hurt her-to stick a knife into her, to put my dear little pistol close against her head and then-just press with my finger-Oh!" The exclamation startled him.

"What is it, Mademoiselle?" She had turned her head and was staring into the shadows.

"Some one standing over there. He's gone now."

Hercule Poirot looked round sharply.

The place seemed quite deserted.

"There seems no one here but outselves, Mademoiselle." He got up.

"In any case I have said all I came to say. I wish you goodnight."

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.

"No-for you could do it! There is always a moment! Your friend Linnet-there was a moment too, in which she could have held her hand… She let it pass by. And if one does that, then one is committed to the enterprise and there comes no second chance." "No second chance…' said Jacqueline de Bellefort.

She stood brooding for a moment, then she lifted her head defiantly.

"Good-night, M. Poirot." He shook his head sadly and followed her up the path to the hotel.

On the following morning Simon Doyle joined Hercule Poirot as the latter was leaving the hotel to walk down to the town.

"Good-morning, M. Poirot." "Good-morning, M. Doyle." "You going to the town? Mind if I stroll along with you?" "But certainly. I shall be delighted." The two men walked side by side, passed out through the gateway and turned into the cool shade of the gardens. Then Simon removed his pipe from his mouth and said: "I understand, M. Poirot, that my wife had a talk with you last night?" "That is so." Simon Doyle was frowning a little. He belonged to that type of men of action who find it difficult to put thoughts into words and who have trouble in expressing themselves clearly.

"I'm glad of one thing," he said. "You've made her realise that we're more or less powerless in the matter." "There is clearly no legal redress," agreed Poirot.

"Exactly. Linnet didn't seem to understand that." He gave a faint smile.

"Linnet's been brought up to believe that every annoyance can automatically be referred to the police." "It would be pleasant if such were the case,' said Poirot.

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 victimised like this! She's done nothing!

If any one likes to say I behaved like a cad they're welcome to say so! I suppose I did. But I won't have the whole thing visited on Linnet. She had nothing whatever to do with it." Poirot bowed his head gravely but said nothing.