For the first time she was feeling the burden of her inheritance and not its advantages.

You are quite sure, Mr. Doyle, that she did not mention this man's Simon shook his head ruefully.

"I didn't really pay much attention. Just said: 'Oh, nobody minds what happened to their fathers nowadays. Life goes too fast for that.' Something of that kind."

Bessner said dryly:

"Ach, but I can have a guess. There is certainly a young man with a grievance on board."

"You mean Ferguson?' said Poirot.

"Xes. He spoke against Mrs. Doyle once or twice. I myself have heard him."

"What can we do to find out?" asked Simon.

Poirot replied:

"Colonel Race and I must interview all the passengers. Until we have got their stories it would be unwise to form theories. Then there is the maid. We ought to interview her first of all. It would, perhaps, be as well if we did that here. Mr.

Doyle's presence might be helpful."

"Yes, that's a good idea," said Simon.

"Had she been with Mrs. Doyle long?"

"Just a couple of months, that's all."

"Only a couple of months," exclaimed Poirot.

"Why, you don't think-"

"Had Madame any valuable jewellcry?"

"There were her pearls," said Simon. "She Once told me they were worth forty or fifty thousand."

He shivered.

"My God, do you think those damned pearls-"

"Robbery is a possible motive," said Poirot. "All the same it seems hardly credible Well, we shall see. Let us have the maid here." Louise Bourget was that same vivacious Latin brunette whom Poirot had seen one day and noticed.

She was anything but vivacious now. She had been crying and looked frightened.

Yet there was a kind of sharp cunning apparent in her face which did not prepossess the two men favourably towards her. "You are Louise Bourget?" "Yes, Monsieur." "When did you last see Madame Doyle alive?" "Last night, Monsieur. I waited in her cabin to undress her." "What time was that?" "It was some time after eleven, Monsieur. I cannot say exactly when. I undress Madame and put her to bed and then I leave." "How long did all that take?" "Ten minutes, Monsieur. Madame was tired. She told me to put the lights out when I went." "And when you had left her, what did you do?" "I went to my own cabin, Monsieur, on the deck below." "And you heard or saw nothing more than can help us?" "How could I, Monsieur?" "That, Mademoiselle, is for you to say, not for us," FIercule Poirot retorted. She stole a sideways glance at him.

"But, Monsieur, I was nowhere near… What could I have seen or heard? I was on the deck below. My cabin it was on the other side of the boat even. It is impossible that I should have heard anything. Naturally, if I had been unable to sleep, if I had mounted the stairs, then perhaps I might have seen this assassin, this monster enter or leave Madame's cabin, but as it is" She threw out her hands appealingly to Simon.

"Monsieur, I implore you-you see how it is? What can I say?" "My good girl," said Simon harshly. "Don't be a fool. Nobody thinks you saw or heard anything. You'll be quite all right. I'll look after you. Nobody's accusing you of anything." Louise murmured: "Monsieur is very good," and dropped her eyelids modestly.

"We take it, then, that you saw and heard nothing?" said Race impatiently.

"That is what I said, Monsieur." "And you know of no one who had a grudge against your mistress?" To the surprise of her listeners Louise nodded her head vigorously.

"Oh, yes. That I do know. To that question I can answer 'Yes' most emphatically." Poirot said: "You mean Mademoiselle de Bellefort?" "She, certainly. But it is not of her I speak. There was some one else on this boat who disliked Madame, who was very angry because of the way Madame had injured him." "Good Lord," said Simon. "What's all this?" Louise went on, still emphatically nodding her head with the utmost vigour.

"Yes, yes, yes, it is as I say! It concerns the former maid of Madame-my predecessor. There was a man, one of the engineers on this boat who wanted her to marry him. And my predecessor, Marie her name was, she would have done so.

But Madame Doyle, she made inquiries and she discovered that this Fleetwood already he had a wifea wife ofeolour, you understand, a wife of this country. She had gone back to her own people but he was still married to her, you understand.

And so Madame she told all this to Marie and Marie she was very unhappy and she would not see Fleetwood any more. And this Fleetwood, he was infuriated, and when he found out that this Madame Doyle had formerly been Miss Linnet Ridgeway he tells me that he would like to kill her! Her interference ruined his life, he said." /uise paused triumphantly.

"This is interesting," said Bate.

Poirot turned to Simon.

"Had you any idea of this?" "None whatever," said Simon with patent sincerity. "I doubt if Linnet even knew the man was on the boat. She had probably forgotten all about the incident." He turned sharply to the maid.

"Did you say anything to Mrs. Doyle about this?" "No, Monsieur, of course not." Poirot said: "Do you know anything about your mistress's pearls?" "Her pearls?" Louise's eyes opened very wide. "She was wearing them last night." "You saw them when she came to bed?" "Yes, Monsieur." "Where did she put them?"

"On the table by the side as always." "That is where you last saw them?" "Yes, sir."

"Did you see them there this morning?"

A startled look came into the girl's face.

"Mon Dieu, I did not even look. I come up to the bed, I seeI see Madame, and then I cry out and rush out of the door and faint."

Hercule Poirot nodded his head.

"You did not look. But I, I have the eyes which notice, and there were no pearls on the table beside the bed this morning."

Hercule Poirot's observation had not been at fault. There were no pearls on the table by Linnet Doyle's bed.

Louise Bourget was bidden to make a search among Linnet's belongings.

According to her all was in order. Only the pearls had disappeared.

As they emerged from the cabin a steward was waiting to tell them that breakfast had been served in the smoking-room.

As they passed along the deck, Poirot paused to look over the rail.

"Aha! I see you have had an idea, my friend."

"Yes. It suddenly came to men when Fanthorp mentioned thinking he had heard a splash, that I too had been awakened some time last night by a splash. It's perfectly possible that, after the murder, the murderer threw the pistol overboard."

Poirot said slowly:

"You think that is possible, my friend?"

Race shrugged his shoulders.

"It's a suggestion. After all, the pistol wasn't anywhere in the cabin. First thing I looked for."

"All the same," said Poirot, "it is incredible that it should have been thrown overboard."

Race said:

"Where is it then?"

Poirot said thoughtfully:

"If it is not in Mrs. Doyle's cabin, there is, logically, only one other place where it could be."

"Where's that?"

"In Mademoiselle de Bellefort's cabin."

"Yes. I see-"

He stopped suddenly.

"She's out of her cabin. Shall we go and hame a look now?"

Poirot shook his head.

"No, my friend, that would be precipitate. It may not yet have been put there."

"What about an immediate search of the whole boat?"

"That way we should show our hand. We must work with great care. It is very delicate, our position at the moment. Let us discuss the situation as we eat." Race agreed. They went into the smoking-room.

"Well?" said Race as he poured himself out a cup of coffee. "We've got two definite leads. There's the disappearance of the pearls. And there's the man Fleetwood. As regards the pearls, robbery seems indicated, but-I don't know whether you'll agree with me"