She said gently: “Don’t mind so much for me, M. Poirot. After all, I’ve lived hard always, you know. If we’d won out, I’d have been very happy and enjoyed things and probably should never have regretted anything. As it is–well, one goes through with it.” She added: “I suppose the stewardess is in attendance to see I don’t hang myself or swallow a miraculous capsule of prussic acid like people do in boeks. ¥)u needn’t be afraid! I shan’t do that. It will be easier for Simon if I’m standing by.” Poirot got up. Jacqueline rose also. She said with a sudden smile: “Do you remember when I said I must follow my star? You sid it tnight be a false star. And I said, ‘That very bad star, that star fall down.'” He went on to the deck with her laughter ringing in his years.
CHAPTER 30
It was early dawn when they came into Shellal. The rocks came down g[mly to the water’s edge.
Poirot murmured: “Quel pays sauvage” Race stood beside him.
“Well,” he said, “we’ve done our job. I’ve arranged for Ricletti lb be taken ashore first. Glad we’ve got him. He’s been a slippery customer, I c tell you.
Given us the slip dozens of times.” He went on: “We must get hold of a stretcher for Doyle. Remarkable l ow he went to pieces.” “Not really,” said Poirot. “That boyish type of criminal is -0suall? intensely vain. Once prick the bubble of their self-esteem and it is finisled!
They go to pieces like children.” “Deserves to be hanged,” said Race. “He’s a cold-bloode(] scoundrel. I’m sorry for the girl—but there’s nothing to be done about it.” Poirot shook his head.
“People say love justifies everything, but that is not true …. Viomen who care for men like Jacqueline cares for Simon Doyle are very dangerous, it is what I said when I saw her first. She cares too much, that little one!
It i true.” Cornelia Robson came up beside him. “Oh,” she said. “We’re nearly in.” She paused a minute or two then said: “I’ve been with her.” “With Miss de Bellefort?” “Yes. I felt it was kind of awful for her boxed up with that stewardess. Cousin Marie’s very angry though, I’m afraid.” Miss Van Schuyler was progressing slowly down the deck towards them. Her eyes were venomous.
“Cornelia,” she snapped. “You’ve behaved outrageously, i shall send you straight home.” Cornelia took a deep breath.
“I’m sorry, Cousin Marie, but I’m not going home. I’m going to get married.”
“So you’ve seen sense at last,” snapped the old lady.
Ferguson came striding round the corner of the deck.
He said: “Cornelia, what’s this I hear? It’s not true!” “It’s quite true,” said Cornelia. “I’m going to marry Dr.
Bessner.
He asked me last night.” “And why are you going to marry him?” said Ferguson furiously. “Simply because he’s rich?”
“No, I’m not,” said Cornelia indignantly. “I like him. He’s kind, and he knows a lot. And I’ve always been interested in sick folks and clinics, and I shall have just a wonderful life with him.”
“Do you mean to say,” said Mr. Ferguson incredulously, “that you’d rather marry that disgusting old man than me?”
“Yes, I would. You’re not reliable! You wouldn’t be at all a comfortable sort of person to live with. And he’s not old. He’s not fifty yet.”
“He’s got a stomach,” said Mr. Ferguson venomously.
“Well, I’ve got round shoulders,” said Cornelia. “What one looks like doesn’t matter. He says I really could help him in his work, and he’s going to teach me all about neuroseses.”
She moved away. Ferguson said to Poirot.
“Do you think she really means that?”
“Certainly.”
“She prefers that pompous old bore to me?”
“Undoubtedly.”
“The girl’s mad,” said Ferguson. o
Poirot’s eyes twinkled.
“She is a woman of original mind,” he said. “It is probably the first time you have met one.”
The boat drew in to the landing stage. A cordon had been drawn round the passengers. They had been asked to wait before disembarking.
Richetti, dark faced and sullen, was marched ashore by two engineers.
Then, after a certain amount of delay, a stretcher was brought. Simon Doyle was carried along the deck to the gangway.