"I don't see what there is to be cross about. It's just frightfully sad."

Tim said crossly:

"You're taking the romantic point of view! What you don't seem to realise is that it's no joke being mixed up in a murder case." Mrs. Allerton looked a little startled.

"But surely-"

"That's just it. There's no 'But surely' about it. Every one on this damned boat is under suspicion-you and I as well as the rest of them."

Mrs. Allerton demurred.

"Technically we are, I supposebut actually it's ridiculous!"

"There's nothing ridiculous where murder's concerned! You may sit there, darling, just exuding virtue and conscious rectitude, but a lot of unpleasant policemen at Shellal or Assuan won't take you at your face value." "Perhaps the truth will be known before then." "Why should it be?"

"M. Poirot may find out."

"That old mountebank? He won't find out anything. He's all talk and moustaches."

"Well, Tim," said Mrs. Allerton, "I dare say everything you say is true, but even if it is, we've got to go through with it, so we might as well make up our minds to it and go through with it as cheerfully as we can."

But her son showed no abatement of gloom.

"There's this blasted business of the pearls being missing, too."

"Linnet's pearls?"

"Yes. It seems somebody must have pinched 'em."

"I suppose that was the motive for the crime," said Mrs. Allerton.

"Why should it be? You're mixing up two perfectly different things." "Who told you that they were missing?"

"Ferguson. He got it from his tough friend in the engine-room who got it from the maid."

"They were lovely pearls," said Mrs. Allerton.

Poirot sat down at the table, bowing to Mrs. Allerton.

"I am a little late," he said.

"I expect you have been busy," said Mrs. Allerton.

"Yes, I have been much occupied."

He ordered a fresh bottle of wine from the waiter.

"We're very catholic in our tastes," said Mrs. Allerton. "You drink wine always, Tim drinks whisky and soda, and I try all the different brands of mineral water in turn."

"Tiens.t'' said Poirot. He stared at her for a moment. He murmured to himself. "It is an idea, that… " Then, with an impatient shrug of his shoulders, he dismissed the sudden preoccupation that had distracted him and began to chat lightly of other matters.

"Is Mr. Doyle badly hurt?" asked Mrs. Allerton.

"Yes, it is a fairly serious injury. Dr. Bessner is anxious to reach Assuan so that his leg can be X-rayed and the bullet removed. But he hopes that there will be no permanent lameness." "Poor Simon," said Mrs. Allerton. "Only yesterday he looked such a happy boy, with everything in the world he wanted. And now his beautiful wife killed and he himself laid up and helpless. I do hope, though-" "What do you hope, Madame?" asked Poirot as Mrs. Allerton paused.

"I hope he's not too angry with that poor child." "With Mademoiselle Jacqueline? Quite the contrary. He was full of anxiety on her behalf." He turned to Tim.

"You know, it is a pretty little problem of psychology that. All the time that Mademoiselle Jacqueline was following them from place to place he was absolutely furious but now when she has actually shot him, and wounded him dangerously-perhaps made him lame for life-all his anger seems to have evaporated. Can you understand that?" "Yes," said Tim thoughtfully, "I think I can. The first thing made him feel a fool" Poirot nodded.

"You are right. It offended his male dignity." "But now if you look at it a certain way, it's she who's made a fool of herself.

Every one's down on her and so" "He can be generously forgiving," finished Mrs. Alleron. "What children men are!" "A profoundly untrue statement that women always make," murmured Tim.

Poirot smiled. Then he said to Tim: "Tell me, Madame Doyle's cousin, Miss joanna Southwood, did she resemble Madame Doyle?" "You've got it a little wrong, M. Poirot. She was our cousin and Linnet's friend." "Ah, pardon-I was confused. She is a young- lady much in the news that. I have been interested in her for some time." "Why?" asked Tim sharply.

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.