Agatha Christie – Death On The Nile

Choking with anger Miss Van Schuyler struggled to her feet. Poirot, discreetly emerging from retirement behind his magazine, sprang up and retrieved the ball of wool.

“Thank you, M. Poirot. If you would send Miss Bowers to meI feel quite upset–that insolent young man.”

“Rather eccentric, I’m afraid,” said Poirot. “Most of that family are. Spoilt, of course. Always inclined to tilt at windmills.” He added carelessly: “You recognised him, I suppose?”

“Recognised him?”

“Calls himself Ferguson and won’t use his title because of his advanced ideas.” “His title?” Miss Van Schuyler’s tone was sharp.

“Yes, that’s young Lord Dawlish. Rolling in money, of course. But he became a communist when he was at Oxford.”

Miss Van Schuyler, her face a battleground of contradictory emotions, said: “How long have you known this, M. Poirot?” Poirot shrugged his shoulders.

“There was a picture in one of these papers–I noticed the resemblance. Then I found a signet ring with a coat of arms on it. Oh, there’s no doubt about it, I assure you.

He quite enjoyed reading the conflicting expressions that succeeded each other on Miss Van Schuyler’s face. Finally, with a gracious inelincation of the head, she said:

“I am very much obliged to you, M. Poirot.”

Poirot looked after her as she went out of the saloon and smiled.

Then he sat down and his face grew grave once more. He was following out a train of thought in hi mind. From time to time he nodded his head.

“Mais oui,” he said at last. “It all fits in.”

CHAPTER 25

Race found him still sitting there.

“Well, Poirot, what about it? Pennington’s due in ten minutes. I’m leaving this in your hands.”

Poirot rose quickly to his feet.

“First, get hold of young Fanthorp.” “Fanthorp?” Race looked surprised.

“Yes. Bring him to my cabin.”

Race nodded and went off. Poirot went along to his cabin. Race arrived with young Fanthorp a minute or two afterwards.

Poirot indicated chairs and offered cigarettes.

“Now, M. Fanthorp,” he said. “To our business! I perceive that you wear the same tie that my friend Hastings wears.”

Jim Fanthorp looked down at his neckwear with some bewilderment.

“It’s an O.E. tie,” he said.

“Exactly. You must understand that though I am a foreigner, I know something of the English point of view. I know, for instance, that there are ‘things which are done’ and things which are ‘not done.'”

Jim Fanthorp grinned.

“We don’t say that sort of thing much nowadays, sir.”

“Perhaps not, but the custom, it still remains. The Old School Tie is the

Old School Tie and there are certain things (I know this from experience) that the

Old School Tie does not do! One of those things, M. Fanthorp, is to butt into a private conversation unasked when one does not know the people who are conducting it.” Fanthorp stared.

Poirot went on:

“But the other day, M. Fanthorp, that is exactly what you did do. Certain persons were quietly transacting some private business in the observation saloon.

You strolled near them, obviously in order to overhear what it was that was in progress, and presently you actually turned round and congratulated a lady–Mrs.

Simon Doyleon the soundness of her business methods.”

Jim Fanthorp’s face got very red. Poirot swept on, not waiting for a comment.

“Now that, M. Fanthorp, was not at all the behaviour of one who wears a tie similar to that worn by my friend Hastings! Hastings is all delicacy, would die of shame before he did such a thing! Therefore, taking that action of yours in conjunction with the fact that you are a very young man to be able to afford an expensive holiday, that you are a member of a country solicitor’s firm and therefore probably not extravagantly well off, and that you shdw no sign of recent illness such as might necessitate a prolonged visit abroad, I ask myself-and am now asking you

—what is the reason for your presence on this boat?”

Jim Fanthorp jerked his head back.

“I decline to give you any information whatever, M. Poirot. I really think you must be mad.”

“I am not mad. I am very very sane. Where is your firm? In Northampton–that is not very far from Wode Hall. What conversation did you try to overhear?