Death on the Nile (Hercule Poirot 17)

Joanna picked up a string of pearls from the dressing table.

“I suppose these are real, aren’t they, Linnet?”

“Of course.”

“I know it’s ‘of course’ to you, my sweet, but it wouldn’t be to most people. Heavily cultured or even Woolworth! Darling, they really are incredible, so exquisitely matched. They must be worth the most fabulous sum!”

“Rather vulgar, you think?”

“No, not at all—just pure beauty. What are they worth?”

“About fifty thousand.”

“What a lovely lot of money! Aren’t you afraid of having them stolen?”

“No, I always wear them—and anyway they’re insured.”

“Let me wear them till dinnertime, will you, darling? It would give me such a thrill.”

Linnet laughed.

“Of course, if you like.”

“You know, Linnet, I really do envy you. You’ve simply got everything. Here you are at twenty, your own mistress, with any amount of money, looks, superb health. You’ve even got brains! When are you twenty-one?”

“Next June. I shall have a grand coming-of-age party in London.”

“And then are you going to marry Charles Windlesham? All the dreadful little gossip writers are getting so excited about it. And he really is frightfully devoted.”

Linnet shrugged her shoulders.

“I don’t know. I don’t really want to marry anyone yet.”

“Darling, how right you are! It’s never quite the same afterwards, is it

?”

The telephone shrilled and Linnet went to it.

“Yes? Yes?”

The butler’s voice answered her:

“Miss de Bellefort is on the line. Shall I put her through?”

“Bellefort? Oh, of course, yes, put her through.”

A click and a voice, an eager, soft, slightly breathless voice: “Hullo, is that Miss Ridgeway? Linnet!”

“Jackie darling! I haven’t heard anything of you for ages and ages!”

“I know. It’s awful. Linnet, I want to see you terribly.”

“Darling, can’t you come down here? My new toy. I’d love to show it to you.”

“That’s just what I want to do.”

“Well, jump into a train or a car.”