Death On The Nile - Christie Agatha (электронные книги бесплатно .TXT) 📗

"Only the Italian gentleman, sir. He carried on a good deal. Said it was a dishonour-something of that kind. He'd got a gun on him, too."

"What kind of a gun?"

"Mauser automatic.25, sir." "Italians are pretty hot tempered," said Simon. "Richetti got ina no enl of a stew at Wadi Halfa just because of a mistake over a telegram. He was. darned rude to Linnet over it." Race turned to the stewardess. She was a big handome-looking woman.

"Nothing on any of the ladies, sir. They made a good deal of fussexcelt for Mrs. Allerton who was as nice as nice could be. Not a sign of the pearl. By th way the young lady, Miss Rosalie Otterbourne, had a little pistol in her h:andbag." "What kind?" "It was a very small one, sir, with a pearl handle. A kind of toy.'*' Race stared.

"Devil take this case," he muttered. "I thought we'd got hr cleared of suspicion and now-does every girl on this blinking boat carry around learl-handled toy pistols?" He shot a question at the stewardess.

"Did she show any feeling over your finding it?" The woman shook her head.

"I don't think she noticed. I had my back turned whilst I was g00ing through the handbags." "Still-she must have known you'd come across it. Oh, well, it beats me.

What about the maid?" "We've looked all over the boat, sir. We can't find her anywhere." "What's this?" asked Simon.

"Mrs. Doyle's maid-Louise Bourget. She's disappeared." "Disappeared?" Race said thoughtfully: "She might have stolen the pearls. She is the one person whl0 had araple opportunity to get a replica made." "And then, when she found a search was being instituted, she hrew herself overboard?" suggested Simon.

"Nonsense," said Race irritably. "A woman can't throw herself overboard in broad daylight from a boat like this without somebody realising thae fact. She's bound to be somewhere on board." He addressed the stewardess once more.

"When was she last seen?" "About half an hour before the bell went for lunch, Sir." "We'll have a look at her cabin, anyway," said Race. "That may tll us something." He led the way to the deck below. Poirot followed him. They unlocked the door of the cabin and passed inside.

Louise Bourget, whose trade it was to keep other people's lbelongings in order, had taken a holiday where her own were concerned. Odds and. ends littered the top of the chest of drawers, a suitcase gaped open with clothes h.ianging ut of the side of it and preventing it shutting, underclothing hung limply oer the sides of the chairs.

As Poirot with swift neat fingers opened the drawers of the cressingchest Race examined the suitcase.

Lonise's shoes were lined along by the bed. One of them, a black latent leather, seemed to be resting at an extraordinary angle almost unsupported. The appearance of it was so odd that it attracted Race's attention.

He closed the suitcase anq bent over the line of shoes.

Then he uttered a sharp exclamation.

Poirot whirled round.

"Qu'est ce qui'il y a?' Race said grimly: "She hasn't disappeared. he's here-under the bed…"

Chapter 22

The body of a dead woman wh% in life had been Louise Bourget lay on the floor of her cabin. The two men bent O, ver it.

Race straightened himself '.first.

"Been dead close on an hokr, I should say. We'll get Bessner on to it. Stabbed to the heart. Death pretty well instantaneous, I should imagine. She doesn't look pretty, does she?" "No." Poirot shook his head with a slight shudder.

The dark feline face was C%nvulsed as though with surprise and fury-the lips drawn back from the teeth.

Poirot bent again gently amd picked up the right hand. Something just showed within the fingers. He detacheCt it and held it out to Racea little sliver of flimsy paper coloured a pale mauvish 4'pink.

"You see what it is?" "Money," said Race.

"The corner of a thousand:franc note, I fancy." "Well, it's clear what happ,ened," said Race. "She knew something-and she was blackmailing the murderer with her knowledge. We thought she wasn't being quite straight this morning." Poirot cried out: "We have been idiotsfo%ls! We should have known-then. What did she say? 'What could I have seen or heard. I was on the deck below. Naturally, if1 had been unable to sleep, if I had mounted the stairs, then perhaps I might have seen this assassin, this monster, ente or leave Madame's cabin, but as it is-' Of course, that is what did happen! She dicome up. She did see some one going into Linnet Doyle's cabin-or coming but of it. And because of her greed, her insensate greed, she lies her" "And we are no nearer to klnowing who killed her," finished Race disgustedly. Poirot shook his head.

"No, no. We know much nh. ore now. We know-we know almost everything.

Only what we know seems inqcredible… Yet it must be so. Only I do not see… Pah! what a fool I was lthis morning. We felt both of us felt that she was keeping something back and yelt we never realised the logical reason blackmail." "She must have demande,d hush money straight away," said Race. "De manded it with threats. The murderer was forced to accede to that request and paid her in French notes. Anything there?" Poirot shook his head thoughtfully.

"I hardly think so. Many people take a reserve of money with them when travelling-sometimes five-pound notes, sometimes dollars, but very often French notes as well. Possibly the murderer paid her all he had in a mixture of currencies.

Let us continue our reconstruction." "The murderer comes to her cabin, gives her the money and then-" "And then," said Poirot, "she counts it. Oh, yes, I know that class. She would count the money and while she counted it she was completely off her guard. The murderer struck. Having done so successfully, he gathered up the money and fled--not noticing that the corner of one of the notes was torn." "We may get him that way," said Race doubtfully.

"I doubt it," said Poirot. "He will examine those notes, and will probably notice the tear. Of course, it he were of a parsimonious disposition he would not be able to bring himself to destroy a mille notebut I fear-I very much fear-that his temperament is just the opposite." "How do you make that out?" "Both this crime and the murder of Mrs. Doyle demanded certain qualities-courage, audacity, bold execution, lightning action-those qualities do not accord with a saving, prudent disposition." Race shook his head sadly.

"I'd better get Bessner d0wn," he said.

The stout doctor's examination did not take long. Accompanied by a good many Achs and Sos, he went to work.

"She has been dead not more than an hour," he announced. "Death, it was very quick-at once." "And what weapon do you think was used?" "Ach, it is interesting, that. It was something very sharp, very thin, very delicate. I could show you the kind of thing." Back again in his cabin he opened a case and extracted a long delicate surgical knife.

"It was something like that, my friend--it was not a common table knife." "I suppose," said Race smoothly, "that none of your own knives arc missing, doctor?" Bessner stared at him, then his face grew red with indignation.

"What is that you say? Do you think I-I, Carl Bessner who so well known is all over Austria-I with my clinics-my highly-born patients-I have killed a miserable littlefemme de chambre,t Ah, but it is ridiculous-absurd, what you say!

None of my knives are missing-not one, I tell you. They are all here, correct, in their places. You can see for yourself. And this insult to my profession I will not forget." Dr. Bessner closed his case with a snap, flung it down and stamped out on to the deck.

"Whew!" said Simon. "You've put the old boy's back up." Poirot shrugged his shoulders. "It is regrettable." "You're on the wrong tack. Old Bessner's one of the best even though he is a kind of Boche." Dr. Bessner reappeared suddenly.