"Of course I saw that… And at last I suggested to him that it might be a good thing if he-got rid of me and married Linnet. But he scouted the idea. He said, money or no money, it would be hell to be married to her. He said his idea of having money was to have it himself not to have a rich wife holding the porse strings. 'I'd be a kind of damned Prince Consort,' he said to me. He said, too, that he didn't want any one but me.

"I think I know when the idea came into his head. He said one day: 'If I'd any luck I'd marry her and she'd die in about a year and leave me all the boodle.' And then a queer startled look came into his eyes. That was when he first thought of it.

"He talked about it a good deal one way and another-about how convenient it would be if Linnet died. I said it was an awful idea and then he shut up about it.

Then, one day, I found him reading up all about arsenic. I taxed him with it then, and he laughed and said, 'Nothing venture, nothing have! It's about the only tiae in my life I shall be near to touching a fat lot of money.' "After a bit I saw that he'd made up his mind. And I was terrified-simply terrified. Because, you see, I realised that he'd never pull it off. He's so childishly simple. He'd have no kind of subtlety about it-and he's got no imagination.

He would probably have just bunged arsenic into her and assured the doctor would say she's died of gastritis. He always thought things would go right.

"So I had to come into it, too, to look after him… " She saicJ it very simply but in complete good faith. Poirot had no doabt whatever that her motive had been exactly what she said it was. She herself had aot coveted Linnet Ridgeway's money. But she had loved Simon Doyle, had loved him beyond reason and beyond rectitude and beyond pity.

"I thought and I thought-trying to work out a plan. It seemed to me that the basis of the idea ought to be a kind of two-handed alibi. You know-ff Simon and I could somehow or other give evidence against each other but actually that evidence would clear us of everything. It would be easy enough for me to pretend to hate Simon. It was quite a likely thing to happen under the circumstances.

Then, if Linnet was killed, I should probably be suspected, so it would be better if I was suspected right away. We worked out details little by little. I wanted it to be so that if anything went wrong, they'd get me and not Simon. But Simon was worried about me.

"The only thing I was glad about was that I hadn't got to do it. I simply couldn't have! Not go along in cold blood and kill her when she was asleep! You see, I hadn't forgiven her-I think I could have killed her face to face-but not the other way.

"We worked everything out carefully. Even then, Simon went and wrote a J in blood which was a silly melodramatic thing to do. It's just the sort of thing he would think off But it went off all right." Poirot nodded.

"Yes. It was not your fault that Louise Bourget could not sleep that night.

And afterwards, Mademoiselle?" She met his eyes squarely.

"Yes,' she said. "It's rather horrible, isn't it? I can't believe that I-did that! I know now what you meant by opening your heart to evil… You know pretty well how it happened. Louise made it clear to Simon that she knew. Simon got you to bring me to him. He told me what I'd got to do. I wasn't even horrified. I was so afraid-so deadly afraid… That's what murder does to you… Simon and I were safe-quite safe-except for this miserable blackmailing French girl. I took her all the money we could get hold of. I pretended to grovel. And then when she was counting the money-I--did it! It was quite easy. That's what's so horribly frightening about it… It's so terribly easy.

"And even then we weren't safe. Mrs. Otterbourne had seen me. She came triumphantly along the deck looking for you and Colonel Race. I'd no time to think, I.,just acted like a flash. It was almost exciting. I knew it was touch or go that time.

That seemed to make it better " She stopped again.

"Do you remember when you came into my cabin afterwards? You said you were not sure why you had come. I was so miserableso terrified. I thought Simon was going to die.

" "And I-was hoping it," said Poirot.

Jacqueline nodded.

"Yes, it would have been better for him that way." "That was not my thought." Jacqueline looked at the sternness of his face.

She said gently: "Don't mind so much for me, M. Poirot. After all, I've lived hard always, you know. If we'd won out, I'd have been very happy and enjoyed things and probably should never have regretted anything. As it is-well, one goes through with it." She added: "I suppose the stewardess is in attendance to see I don't hang myself or swallow a miraculous capsule of prussic acid like people do in boeks.?)u needn't be afraid! I shan't do that. It will be easier for Simon if I'm standing by." Poirot got up. Jacqueline rose also. She said with a sudden smile: "Do you remember when I said I must follow my star? You sid it tnight be a false star. And I said, 'That very bad star, that star fall down.'" He went on to the deck with her laughter ringing in his years.

It was early dawn when they came into Shellal. The rocks came down g[mly to the water's edge.

Poirot murmured: "Quel pays sauvage" Race stood beside him.

"Well," he said, "we've done our job. I've arranged for Ricletti lb be taken ashore first. Glad we've got him. He's been a slippery customer, I c tell you.

Given us the slip dozens of times." He went on: "We must get hold of a stretcher for Doyle. Remarkable l ow he went to pieces." "Not really," said Poirot. "That boyish type of criminal is -0suall? intensely vain. Once prick the bubble of their self-esteem and it is finisled!

They go to pieces like children." "Deserves to be hanged," said Race. "He's a cold-bloode(] scoundrel. I'm sorry for the girl--but there's nothing to be done about it." Poirot shook his head.

"People say love justifies everything, but that is not true… Viomen who care for men like Jacqueline cares for Simon Doyle are very dangerous, it is what I said when I saw her first. She cares too much, that little one!

It i true." Cornelia Robson came up beside him. "Oh," she said. "We're nearly in." She paused a minute or two then said: "I've been with her." "With Miss de Bellefort?" "Yes. I felt it was kind of awful for her boxed up with that stewardess. Cousin Marie's very angry though, I'm afraid." Miss Van Schuyler was progressing slowly down the deck towards them. Her eyes were venomous.

"Cornelia," she snapped. "You've behaved outrageously, i shall send you straight home." Cornelia took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry, Cousin Marie, but I'm not going home. I'm going to get married."

"So you've seen sense at last," snapped the old lady.

Ferguson came striding round the corner of the deck.

He said: "Cornelia, what's this I hear? It's not true!" "It's quite true," said Cornelia. "I'm going to marry Dr.

Bessner.

He asked me last night." "And why are you going to marry him?" said Ferguson furiously. "Simply because he's rich?"

"No, I'm not," said Cornelia indignantly. "I like him. He's kind, and he knows a lot. And I've always been interested in sick folks and clinics, and I shall have just a wonderful life with him."

"Do you mean to say," said Mr. Ferguson incredulously, "that you'd rather marry that disgusting old man than me?"

"Yes, I would. You're not reliable! You wouldn't be at all a comfortable sort of person to live with. And he's not old. He's not fifty yet."

"He's got a stomach," said Mr. Ferguson venomously.

"Well, I've got round shoulders," said Cornelia. "What one looks like doesn't matter. He says I really could help him in his work, and he's going to teach me all about neuroseses."