Death on the Nile (Hercule Poirot 17)

Suddenly the tension relaxed. She said: “Good night, Monsieur Poirot.”

“Good night, Mademoiselle.”

Her eyes met his, just for a swift moment. Thinking it over the next day, he came to the conclusion that there had been appeal in that glance. He was to remember it afterwards.

Then he passed on to his cabin and she went towards the saloon.

II

Cornelia, having dealt with Miss Van Schuyler’s many needs and fantasies, took some needlework with her back to the saloon. She herself did not feel in the least sleepy. On the contrary she felt wide awake and slightly excited.

The bridge four were still at it. In another chair the quiet Fanthorp read a book. Cornelia sat down to her needlework.

Suddenly the door opened and Jacqueline de Bellefort came in. She stood in the doorway, her head thrown back. Then she pressed a bell and sauntered across to Cornelia and sat down.

“Been ashore?” she asked.

“Yes. I thought it was just fascinating in the moonlight.”

Jacqueline nodded.

“Yes, lovely night…A real honeymoon night.”

Her eyes went to the bridge table—rested a moment on Linnet Doyle.

The boy came in answer to the bell. Jacqueline ordered a double gin. As she gave the order Simon Doyle shot a quick glance at her. A faint line of anxiety showed between his eyebrows.

His wife said: “Simon, we’re waiting for you to call.”

Jacqueline hummed a little tune to herself. When the drink came, she picked it up, said: “Well, here’s to crime,” drank it off and ordered another.

Again Simon looked across from the bridge table. His calls became slightly absentminded. His partner, Pennington, took him to task.

Jacqueline began to hum again, at first under her breath, then louder:

“He was her man and he did her wrong….”

“Sorry,” said Simon to Pennington. “Stupid of me not to return your lead. That gives ’em rubber.”

Linnet rose to her feet.

“I’m sleepy. I think I’ll go to bed.”

“About time to turn in,” said Colonel Race.

“I’m with you,” agreed Pennington.

“Coming, Simon?”

Doyle said slowly: “Not just yet. I think I’ll have a drink first.”

Linnet nodded and went out. Race followed her. Pennington finished his drink and then followed suit.

Cornelia began to gather up her embroidery.

“Don’t go t

o bed, Miss Robson,” said Jacqueline. “Please don’t. I feel like making a night of it. Don’t desert me.”