"A new code-it was used in the South ffrican rebellion. Potatoes mean machine guns, artichokes are high explosives-and so on. Richetti is no more an archaeologist than I am! He's a very dangerous agitator, a man who's killed more than once. And I'll swear that he's killed once again. Mrs. Doyle opened that telegram by mistake, you see. If she were ever to repeat what was in it before me, he knew his goose would be cooked!" He turned to Poirot.

"Am I right?" he said. "Is Richetti the man?" "He is your man," said Poirot. "I always thought there was something wrong about him! He was almost too word-perfect in his rlehe was all archaeologist, not enough human being." He paused and then said: "But it was not Richetti who killed Linnet Doyle. For some time now I have known what I may express as the 'first half of the murder. Now I know the 'second half also. The picture is complete. But you understand that although I know what must have happened. I have no proof that it happened. Intellectually the case is satisfying. Actually it is profoundly unsatisfactory. There is only one hopea confession from the murderer." Dr. Bessner raised his shoulders sceptically.

"Ach! but that-it would be a miracle." "I think not. Not under the circumstances." Cornelia cried out: "But who is it? Aren't you going to tell us?" Poirot's eyes ranged quietly over the three of them. Race smiling sardonically, Bessner, still looking sceptical, Cornelia, her mouth hanging a little open, gazing at him with eager eyes.

"Mais oui," he said. "I like an audience, I must confess. I am vain, you see. I am puffed up with conceit. I like to say, 'See how clever is Hercule Poirot!'" Race shifted a little in his chair.

"Well," he said gently, "just how clever/s Hercule Poirot?" Shaking his head sadly from side to side Poirot said: "To begin with I was stupid incredibly stupid. To me the stumbling-block was the pistol-Jacqueline de Bellefort's pistol. Why had that pistol not been left on the scene of the crime? The idea of the murderer was quite plainly to incriminate her. Why then did the murderer take it away? I was so stupid that I thought of all sorts of fantastic reasons. The real one was very simple. The murderer took it away because he had to take it away-because he had no choice in the matter."

"You and I, my friend," Poirot leaned towards Race, "started our investigation with a preconceived idea. That idea was that the crime was committed on the spur of the moment without any preliminary planning. Somebody wished to remove Linnet Doyle and had seized their opportunity to do so at a moment when the crime would almost certainly be attributed to Jacqueline de Bellefort. It therefore followed that the person in question had overheard the scene between Jacqueline and Simon Doyle and had obtained possession of the pistol after the others had left the saloon.

"But, my friends, if that preconceived idea was wrong, the whole aspect of the case altered. And it was wrong! This was no spontaneous crime committed on the spur of the moment. It was, on the contrary, very carefully planned and accurately timed, with all the details meticulously worked out beforehand, even to the drugging of Hercule Poirot's bottle of wine on the night in question!

"But, yes, that is so! I was put to sleep so that there should be no possibility of my participating in the events of the night. It did just occur to me as a possibility. I drink wine, my two companions at table drink whisky and mineral water respectively. Nothing easier than to slip a dose of harmless narcotic into my bottle of wine the bottles stand on the tables all day. But I dismissed the thought-it had been a hot day-I had been unusually tired--it was not really extraordinary that I should for once have slept heavily instead of lightly as I usually do.

"You see, I was still in the grip of the preconceived idea. If I had been drugged that would have implied premeditation, it would mean that before 7.30, when dinner is served, the crime had already been decided upon And that (always from the point of view of the preconceived idea) was absurd.

"The first blow to the preconceived idea was when the pistol was recovered from the Nile. To begin with, if we were right in our assumptions, the pistol ought never to have been thrown overboard at all And there was more to follow." Poirot turned to Dr. Bessner.

"You, Dr. Bessner, examined Linnet Doyle's body. You will remember that the wound showed signs of scorching-that is to say that the pistol had been placed close against the head before being fired." Bessner nodded. "So. That is exact." "But when the pistol was found it was wrapped in a vlvet stole and that velvet showed definite signs that a pistol had been fired through its folds-presumably under the impression that that would deaden the sound of the shot. But if the pistol had been fired through the velvet, there would have been no signs of burning on the victim's skin. Therefore the shot fired through the stole could not have been the shot that killed Linnet Doyle. Could it have been the other shot-the one fired by Jacqueline de Bellefort at Simon Doyle? Again no, for there had been two witnesses of that shooting and we knew all about it. It appeared, therefore, as though a third shot had been fired-one we knew nothing about. But only two shots had been fired from the pistol, and there was no hint or suggestion of another shot.

"Here we were face to face with a very curious unexplained circumstance. The next interesting point was the fact that in Linnet Doyle's cabin I found two bottles of coloured nail polish. Now ladies very often vary the colour of their nails, but so far Linnet Doyle's nails had always been the shade called Cardinal a deep dark red. The other bottle was labelled Rose, which is a shade of pale pink, but the few drops remaining in the bottle were not pale pink but a bright red. I was sufficiently curious to take out the stopper and sniff. Instead of the usual strong odour of pear drops, the bottle smelt of vinegar! That is to say, it suggested that the drop or two of fluid in it was red ink. Now there is no reason why Mrs. Doyle should not have had a bottle of red ink, but it would have been more natural if she had had red ink in a red ink bottle and not in a nail polish bottle. It suggested a link with the fainfiy stained handkerchief which had been wrapped round the pistol. Red ink washes out quickly but always leaves a pale pink stain.

"I should perhaps have arrived at the truth with these slender indications, but an event occurred which rendered all doubts superfluous. Louise Bourget was killed in circumstances which pointed unmistakably to the fact that she had been blackmailing the murderer. Not only was a fragment of a mille franc note still clasped in her hand, but I remembered some very significant words she had used this morning.

"Listen carefully, for here is the crux of the whole matter. When I asked her if she had seen anything the previous night she gave this curious answer. '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 ' Now what exactly did that tell us?" Bessner, his nose wrinkling with intellectual interest, replied promptly: "It told you that she had mounted the stair." "No, no--you fail to see the point. Why should she have said that-to us?" "To convey a hint.' "But why hint to us? If she knows who the murderer is, there are two courses open to her-to tell us the truth, or to hold her tongue and demand money for her silence from the person concerned! But she does neither. She neither says promptly: 'I saw nobody. I was asleep.' Nor does she say: 'Yes, I saw some one, and it was so and so.' Why use that significant indeterminate rigmarole of words? Parbleu, there can be only one reason! She is hinting to the murderer-therefore the murderer must have been present at the time. But besides myself and Colonel Race only two people were present-Simon Doyle and Dr. Bessner." The doctor sprang up with a roar.