Pennington did not sound delighted. He did not look delighted either. Race and Poirot exchanged glances and then abruptly left the room.
“Cunning old devil,” said Race, “but he’s afraid. Eh?”
Poirot nodded. “Yes, he is not happy, our Monsieur Pennington.”
As they reached the promenade deck again, Mrs. Allerton came out of her cabin and, seeing Poirot, beckoned him imperiously.
“Madame?”
“That poor child! Tell me, Monsieur Poirot, is there a double cabin somewhere that I could share with her? She oughtn’t to go back to the one she shared with her mother, and mine is only a single one.”
“That can be arranged, Madame. It is very good of you.”
“It’s mere decency. Besides, I’m very fond of the girl. I’ve always liked her.”
“Is she very upset?”
“Terribly. She seems to have been absolutely devoted to that odious woman. That is what is so pathetic about it all. Tim says he believes she drank. Is that true?”
Poirot nodded.
“Oh, well, poor woman, one must not judge her, I suppose; but that girl must have had a terrible life.”
“She did, Madame. She is very proud and she was very loyal.”
“Yes, I like that—loyalty, I mean. It’s out of fashion nowadays. She’s an odd character, that girl—proud, reserved, stubborn, and terribly warm-hearted underneath, I fancy.”
“I see that I have given her into good hands, Madame.”
“Yes, don’t worry. I’ll look after her. She’s inclined to cling to me in the most pathetic fashion.”
Mrs. Allerton went back into the cabin. Poirot returned to the scene of the tragedy.
Cornelia was still standing on the deck, her eyes wide. She said: “I don’t understand, Monsieur Poirot. How did the person who shot her get away without our seeing him?”
“Yes, how?” echoed Jacqueline.
“Ah,” said Poirot, “it was not quite such a disappearing trick as you think, Mademoiselle. There were three distinct ways the murderer might have gone.”
Jacqueline looked puzzled. She said, “Three?”
“He might have gone to the right, or he might have gone to the left, but I don’t see any other way,” puzzled Cornelia.
Jacqueline too frowned. Then her brow cleared.
She said: “Of course. He could move in two directions on one plane, but he could go at right angles to that plane too. That is, he couldn’t go up very well, but he could go down.”
Poirot smiled. “You have brains, Mademoiselle.”
Cornelia said: “I know I’m just a plain mutt, but I still don’t see.”
Jacqueline said: “Monsieur Poirot means, darling, that he could swing himself over the rail and down on to the deck below.”
“My!” gasped Cornelia. “I never thought of that. He’d have to be mighty quick about it, though. I suppose he could just do it?”
“He could do it easily enough,” said Tim Allerton. “Remember, there’s always a minute of shock after a thing like this. One hears a shot and one’s too paralysed to move for a second or two.”
“That was your experience, Monsieur Allerton?”