"I feel I can't do better than leave it to you, sir, seeing your official position.

I'd had orders to put myself at your disposal in the ct--other matter. If you will take charge, I'll see that everything is done as you wish." "Good man. To begin with I'd like this room kept clear for me and for M.

Poirot during the inquiry." "Certainly, sir." "That's all at present. Go on with your own work. I know where to find you." Looking slightly relieved the manager left the room.

Race said: "Sit down, Bessner, and let's have the whole story of what happened last night." They listened in silence to the doctor's rumbling voice.

"Clear enough," said Race, when he had finished. "The girl worked herself up, helped by a drink or two, and finally took a pot shot at the man with a.22 pistol. Then she went along to Linnet Doyle's cabin and shot her as well." But Dr. Bessner was shaking his head.

"No, no. I do not think so. I do not think that was possible. For one thing she would not write her own initial on the wall it would be ridiculous, Night wahr?" "She might," Race declared, "if she were as blindly mad and jealous as she sounds, she might want to-wellsign her name to the crime, so to speak." Poirot shook his head.

"No, no, I do not think she would be as-as crude as that." "Then there's only one reason for that J. It was put there by some one else deliberately to throw suspicion on her." The doctor said: "Yes, and the criminal was unlucky-because you see, it is not only unlikely that the young Fr/iulein did the murder-it is also I think impossible." "How's that?" Bessner explained Jacqueline's hysterics and the circumstances which had led Miss Bowers to take charge of her.

"And I think-I am sure that Miss Bowers stayed with her all night." Race said: "If that's so, it's going to simplify matters very much." Poirot asked: "Who discovered the crime?" "Mrs. Doyle's maid, Louise Bourget. She went to call her mistress as usual, found her dead, and came out and flopped into the steward's arms in a dead faint.

He went to the manager, who came to me. I got hold of Bessner and then came for yotl." Poirot nodded.

Race said: "Doyle's got to know. You say he's asleep still." The doctor said: "Yes, he's still asleep in my cabin. I gave him a strong opiate last night." Race turned to Poirot.

"Well," he said, "I don't think we need detain the doctor any longer, eh?

Thank you, doctor." Bessner rose.

"I will have my breakfast, yes. And then I will go back to my cabin and see if Mr.

Doyle is ready to wake." "Thanks.'

Bessner went out. The two men looked at each other.

"Well, what about it, P0irot?" Race said. "You're the man in charge. I'll take my orders from you. You say what's to be done."

Poirot bowed.

"Eh bien," he said, "we must hold the court of inquiry. First of all, I think we must verify the story of the affair last night. That is to say, we must question

Fanthorp and Miss Robson who were the actual witnesses of what occurred. The disappearance of the pistol is very significant."

Race rang a bell and sent a message by the steward.

Poirot sighed and shook his head.

"It is bad, this," he murmured. "It is bad."

"Have you any ideas?" asked Race curiously.

"My ideas conflict. They are not well arranged--they are not orderly. There is, you see, the big fact that this girl hated Linnet Doyle and wanted to kill her."

"You think she's capable of it?"

"I think so-yes." Poirot sounded doubtful.

"But not in this way? That's what's worrying you, isn't it? Not to creep into her cabin in the dark and shoot her while she was sleeping. It's the cold-bloodedness that strikes you as not ringing true?"

"in a sense, yes."

"You think that this girl, Jacqueline de Bellefort, is incapable of a premedi tated cold-blooded murder."

Poirot said slowly:

"I am not sure, you see. She would have the brains-yes. But I doubt fi, physically, she could bring herself to do the act " Race nodded.

"Yes, I see Well, according to Bessner's story, it would also have been physically impossible.

"If that is true it clears the ground considerably. Let us hope it is true." He paused and then added simply: "I shall be glad if it is so, for I have for that little one much sympathy." The door opened and Fanthorp and Cornelia came in. Bessner followed them. Cornelia gasped out: "Isn't this just awful? Poor, poor Mrs. Doyle. And she was so lovely too. It must have been a realfiend who could hurt her! And poor Mr. Doyle, he'll just go half crazy when he knows! Why even last night he was so frightfully worried lest she should hear about his accident." "That is just what we want you to tell us about, Miss Robson," said Race. "We want to know exactly what happened last night." Cornelia began a little confusedly, but a question or two from Poirot helped matters.

"Ah, yes, I understand. After the bridge, Madame Doyle went to her cabin. Did she really go to her cabin, I wonder?" "She did," said Race. "I actually saw her. I said good-night to her at the door." "And the time?" "Mercy, I couldn't say," said Cornelia.

"It was twenty past eleven," said Race.

"Bien. Then at twenty past eleven, Madame Doyle was alive and well. At that moment there was in the saloon-who?" Fanthorp answered.

"Doyle was there. And Miss de Bellefort. Myself and Miss Robson." "That's so," agreed Cornelia. "Mr. Pennington had a drink and then went off to bed." "That as how much later?" "Oh, about three or four minutes." "Before half-past eleven, then?" "Oh, yes." "So that there were left in the saloon you, Miss Robson, Miss de Bellefort, Mr. Doyle and Mr. Fanthorp. What were you all doing?" "Mr. Fanthorp was reading a book. I'd got some embroidery. Miss de Bellefort was-she was-" Fanthorp came to the rescue.

"She was drinking pretty heavily." "Yes," agreed Cornelia. "She was talking to me mostly and asking me about things at home. And she kept saying thingsto me mostly, but I think they were kind of meant for Mr. Doyle. He was getting kind of mad at her but he didn't say anything. I think he thought if he kept quiet she might simmer down." "But she didn't?" Cornelia shook her head.

"I tried to go once or twice, but she made me stop and I was getting very uncomfortable. And then Mr. Fanthorp got up and went out-"- "It was a LITTLE embarrassing," said Fanthorp. "I thought I'd make an unobtrusive exit. Miss de Bellefort was clearly working up for a scene." "And then she pulled out the pistol," went on Cornelia. "And Mr. Doyle jumped up to try and get it away from her, and it went offand shot him through the leg, and then she began to sob and cry-and I was scared to death and ran out after Mr. Fanthorp and he came back with me, and Mr. Doyle said not to make a fuss, and one of the Nubian boys heard the noise of the shot and came along, but Mr.

Fanthorp told him it was all right and then we got Jacqueline away to her cabin and Mr.

Fanthorp stayed with her while I got Miss Bowers." Cornelia paused breathless.

"What time was this?" asked Race.

Cornelia said again: "Mercy, I don't know," but Fanthorp answered promptly: "It must have been about twenty minutes past twelve. I know that it was actually half-past twelve when I finally got to my cabin." "Now let me be quite sure on one or two points," said Poirot. "After Mrs.

Doyle left the saloon did any of you four leave it?" "No." "You are quite certain Miss de Bellefort did not leave the saloon at all?" Fanthorp answered promptly: "Positive. Neither Doyle, Miss de Bellefort, Miss Robson, nor myself left the saloon." "Good. That establishes the fact that Miss de Bellefort could not possibly have shot Mrs. Doyle before-let us say-twenty past twelve. Now, Miss Robson, you went to fetch Miss Bowers. Was Miss de Bellefort alone in her cabin during that period?" "No, Mr. Fanthorp stayed with her." "Good. So far, Miss de Bellefort has a perfect alibi. Miss Bowers is the next person to interview, but before I send for her I should like to have your opinion on one or two points. Mr. Doyle, you say, was very anxious that Miss de Bellefort should not be left alone. Was he afraid, do you think, that she was contemplating some further rash act?"