She laughed ruefully.
Poirot gallantly attempted to disperse the mob for her but without avail. They scattered and then reappeared, closing in once more.
“If there were only any peace in Egypt I should like it better,” said Mrs.
Allerton. “But you can never be alone anywheresome one is always pestering you for money, or offering you donkeys, or beads, or expeditions to native villages, or duck shooting.”
“It is the great disadvantage, that is true,” agreed Poirot.
He spread his handkerchief cautiously on the rock and sat somewhat gingerly upon it.
“Your son is not with you this morning?” he went on.
“No, Tim had some letters to get off before we leave. We’re doing the trip to the Second Cataract, you know.”
“I, too.”
“I’m so glad. I want to tell you that I’m quite thrilled to meet you. When we were in Majorca, there was a Mrs. Leech there and she was telling us the most wonderful things about you. She’d lost a ruby ring bathing and she was just lamenting that you weren’t there to find it for her.” “Ah, parbleu, but I am not the diving seal!” They both laughed.
Mrs. Allerton went on: “I saw you from my window walking down the drive with Simon Doyle this morning. Do tell me what you make of him? We’re all so excited about him.” “Ah? Truly?” “Yes. You know his marriage to Linnet Ridgeway was the greatest surprise.
She was supposed to be going to marry Lord Windlesham and then suddenly she gets engaged to this man no one had ever heard off’ “You know her well, Madame?” “No, but a cousin of mine, Joanna Southwood, is one of her best friends.” “Ah, yes, I have read that name in the papers.” He was silent a moment and then went on, “She is a young lady very much in the news, Mademoiselle Joanna Southwood.” “Oh, she knows how to advertise herself all right,” snapped Mrs. Allerton.
“You do not like her, Madame?” “That was a nasty remark of mine.” Mrs. Allerton looked penitent. “You see, I’m old-fashioned. I don’t like her much. Tim and she are the greatest friends, though.” “I see,” said Poirot.
His companion shot a quick look at him. She changed the subject.
“How very few young people there are out here! That pretty girl with the chestnut hair and the appalling mother in the turban is almost the only young creature in the place. You have talked to her a good deal, I notice. She interests me, that child.” “Why is that, Madame?” “I feel sorry for her. You can suffer so much when you are young and sensitive.
I think she is suffering.” “Yes, she is not happy, poor little one.” “Tim and I call her the ‘sulky girl.’ I’ve tried to talk to her once or twice, but she’s snubbed me on each occasion. However, I believe she’s going on this Nile trip too, and I expect we’ll have to be more or less all matey together, shan’t we?” “It is a possible contingency, Madame.” “I’m very matey really–people interest me enormously. All the different types.” She paused, then said, “Tim tells me that that dark girl her name is de-Bellefort–is the girl who was engaged to Simon Doyle. It’s rather awkward for them–meeting like this.” “It is awkwardyes,” agreed Poirot.
Mrs. Allerton shot a quick glance at him.
“You know, it may sound foolish, but she almost frightened me. She looked so–intense.” Poirot nodded his head slowly.
“You were not far wrong, Madame. A great force of emotion is always frightening.” “Do people interest you too, M. Poirot? Or do you reserve your interest for potential criminals.” “Madame—that category would not leave many people outside it.” Mrs. Allerton looked a trifle startled. “Do you really mean that?” “Given the particular incentive–that is to say,” Poirot added.
“Which would differ?” “Naturally.”
Mrs. Allerton hesitateda little smile on her lips.
“Even I, perhaps?”
“Mothers, Madame, are particularly ruthless when their children are in danger.”
She said gravely:
“I think that’s true–yes, you’re quite right.”
She was silent a minute or two, then she said smiling:
“I’m trying to imagine motives for crime suitable for every one in the hotel.