Агата Кристи - Смерть на Ниле / Death on the Nile

‘If that is true it clears the ground considerably. Let us hope it is true.’ Poirot 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 real fiend who could hurt her! And poor Mr Doyle, he’ll 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,’ replied 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 was 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, Mademoiselle Robson, Mademoiselle de Bellefort, Monsieur Doyle and Monsieur 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 things – to 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, 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 off and 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 servants 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 Madame Doyle left the saloon, did any of you four leave it?’

‘No.’

‘You are quite certain Mademoiselle 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 Mademoiselle de Bellefort could not possibly have shot Madame Doyle before – let us say – twenty past twelve. Now, Mademoiselle Robson, you went to fetch Mademoiselle Bowers. Was Mademoiselle de Bellefort alone in her cabin during that period?’

‘No. Mr Fanthorp stayed with her.’

‘Good! So far, Mademoiselle de Bellefort has a perfect alibi. Mademoiselle 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. Monsieur Doyle, you say, was very anxious that Mademoiselle de Bellefort should not be left alone. Was he afraid, do you think, that she was contemplating some further rash act?’

‘That is my opinion,’ said Fanthorp.

‘He was definitely afraid she might attack Madame Doyle?’

‘No.’ Fanthorp shook his head. ‘I don’t think that was his idea at all. I think he was afraid she might – er – do something rash to herself.’

‘Suicide?’

‘Yes. You see, she seemed completely sobered and heart-broken at what she had done. She was full of self-reproach. She kept saying she would be better dead.’

Cornelia said timidly:

‘I think he was rather upset about her. He spoke – quite nicely. He said it was all his fault – that he’d treated her badly. He – he was really very nice.’

Hercule Poirot nodded thoughtfully.

‘Now about that pistol,’ he went on. ‘What happened to that?’

‘She dropped it,’ said Cornelia.

‘And afterwards?’

Fanthorp explained how he had gone back to search for it, but had not been able to find it.

‘Aha!’ said Poirot. ‘Now we begin to arrive. Let us, I pray you, be very precise. Describe to me exactly what happened.’

‘Miss de Bellefort let it fall. Then she kicked it away from her with her foot.’

‘She sort of hated it,’ explained Cornelia. ‘I know just what she felt.’

‘And it went under a settee, you say. Now be very careful. Mademoiselle de Bellefort did not recover that pistol before she left the saloon?’

Both Fanthorp and Cornelia were positive on that point.

‘ Précisément . I seek only to be very exact, you comprehend. Then we arrive at this point. When Mademoiselle de Bellefort leaves the saloon the pistol is under the settee. And since Mademoiselle de Bellefort is not left alone – Monsieur Fanthorp, Mademoiselle Robson or Mademoiselle Bowers being with her – she has no opportunity to get back the pistol after she left the saloon. What time was it, Monsieur Fanthorp, when you went back to look for it?’

‘It must have been just before half past twelve.’

‘And how long would have elapsed between the time you and Dr Bessner carried Monsieur Doyle out of the saloon until you returned to look for the pistol?’

‘Perhaps five minutes – perhaps a little more.’

‘Then in that five minutes someone removes that pistol from where it lay out of sight under the settee . That someone was not Mademoiselle de Bellefort. Who was it? It seems highly probable that the person who removed it was the murderer of Madame Doyle. We may assume, too, that that person had overheard or seen something of the events immediately preceding.’

‘I don’t see how you make that out,’ objected Fanthorp.

‘Because,’ said Hercule Poirot, ‘you have just told us that the pistol was out of sight under the settee . Therefore it is hardly credible that it was discovered by accident . It was taken by someone who knew it was there . Therefore that someone must have assisted at the scene.’

Fanthorp shook his head.

‘I saw no one when I went out on the deck just before the shot was fired.’

‘Ah, but you went out by the door on the starboard side.’

‘Yes. The same side as my cabin.’

‘Then if there had been anybody at the port door looking through the glass you would not have seen him?’

‘No,’ admitted Fanthorp.

‘Did anyone hear the shot except the servant?’

‘Not as far as I know.’

Fanthorp went on:

‘You see, the windows in here were all closed. Miss Van Schuyler felt a draught earlier in the evening. The swing doors were shut. I doubt if the shot would be clearly heard. It would only sound like the pop of a cork.’

Race said:

‘As far as I know, no one seems to have heard the other shot – the shot that killed Mrs Doyle.’

‘That we will inquire into presently,’ said Poirot. ‘For the moment we still concern ourselves with Mademoiselle de Bellefort. We must speak to Mademoiselle Bowers. But first, before you go’-he arrested Fanthorp and Cornelia with a gesture-‘you will give me a little information about yourselves. Then it will not be necessary to call you again later. You first, Monsieur – your full name.’

‘James Lechdale Fanthorp.’

‘Address?’

‘Glasmore House, Market Donnington, Northamptonshire.’

‘Your profession?’

‘I am a lawyer.’

‘And your reasons for visiting this country?’

There was a pause. For the first time the impassive Mr Fanthorp seemed taken a back. He said at last – almost mumbling the words:

‘Er – pleasure.’

‘Aha!’ said Poirot. ‘You take the holiday; that is it, yes?’

‘Er – yes.’

‘Very well, Monsieur Fanthorp. Will you give me a brief account of your own movements last night after the events we have just been narrating?’

‘I went straight to bed.’

‘That was at-?’

‘Just after half past twelve.’

‘Your cabin is number twenty-two on the starboard side – the one nearest the saloon.’

‘Yes.’

‘I will ask you one more question. Did you hear anything – anything at all – after you went to your cabin?’

Fanthorp considered.

‘I turned in very quickly. I think I heard a kind of splash just as I was dropping off to sleep. Nothing else.’

‘You heard a kind of splash? Near at hand?’

Fanthorp shook his head.

‘Really, I couldn’t say. I was half asleep.’

‘And what time would that be?’

‘It might have been about one o’clock. I can’t really say.’

‘Thank you, Monsieur Fanthorp. That is all.’

Poirot turned his attention to Cornelia.

‘And now, Mademoiselle Robson. Your full name?’

‘Cornelia Ruth. And my address is The Red House, Bellfield, Connecticut.’

‘What brought you to Egypt?’

‘Cousin Marie, Miss Van Schuyler, brought me along on a trip.’

‘Had you ever met Madame Doyle previous to this journey?’

‘No, never.’

‘And what did you do last night?’

‘I went right to bed after helping Dr Bessner with Mr Doyle’s leg.’

‘Your cabin is-?’

‘Forty-one on the port side – right next door to Miss de Bellefort.’

‘And did you hear anything?’

Cornelia shook her head.

‘I didn’t hear a thing.’

‘No splash?’

‘No, but then I wouldn’t, because the boat’s against the bank on my side.’

Poirot nodded.

‘Thank you, Mademoiselle Robson. Now perhaps you will be so kind as to ask Mademoiselle Bowers to come here.’

Fanthorp and Cornelia went out.

‘That seems clear enough,’ said Race. ‘Unless three independent witnesses are lying, Jacqueline de Bellefort couldn’t have got hold of the pistol. But somebody did. And somebody overheard the scene. And somebody was B.F. enough to write a big J on the wall.’

There was a tap on the door and Miss Bowers entered. The hospital nurse sat down in her usual composed efficient manner. In answer to Poirot she gave her name, address, and qualifications, adding:

‘I’ve been looking after Miss Van Schuyler for over two years now.’