He shivered.
“My God, do you think those damned pearls–”
“Robbery is a possible motive,” said Poirot. “All the same it seems hardly credible Well, we shall see. Let us have the maid here.” Louise Bourget was that same vivacious Latin brunette whom Poirot had seen one day and noticed.
She was anything but vivacious now. She had been crying and looked frightened.
Yet there was a kind of sharp cunning apparent in her face which did not prepossess the two men favourably towards her. “You are Louise Bourget?” “Yes, Monsieur.” “When did you last see Madame Doyle alive?” “Last night, Monsieur. I waited in her cabin to undress her.” “What time was that?” “It was some time after eleven, Monsieur. I cannot say exactly when. I undress Madame and put her to bed and then I leave.” “How long did all that take?” “Ten minutes, Monsieur. Madame was tired. She told me to put the lights out when I went.” “And when you had left her, what did you do?” “I went to my own cabin, Monsieur, on the deck below.” “And you heard or saw nothing more than can help us?” “How could I, Monsieur?” “That, Mademoiselle, is for you to say, not for us,” FIercule Poirot retorted. She stole a sideways glance at him.
“But, Monsieur, I was nowhere near …. What could I have seen or heard? I was on the deck below. My cabin it was on the other side of the boat even. It is impossible that I should have heard anything. Naturally, if I had been unable to sleep, if I had mounted the stairs, then perhaps I might have seen this assassin, this monster enter or leave Madame’s cabin, but as it is” She threw out her hands appealingly to Simon.
“Monsieur, I implore you–you see how it is? What can I say?” “My good girl,” said Simon harshly. “Don’t be a fool. Nobody thinks you saw or heard anything. You’ll be quite all right. I’ll look after you. Nobody’s accusing you of anything.” Louise murmured: “Monsieur is very good,” and dropped her eyelids modestly.
“We take it, then, that you saw and heard nothing?” said Race impatiently.
“That is what I said, Monsieur.” “And you know of no one who had a grudge against your mistress?” To the surprise of her listeners Louise nodded her head vigorously.
“Oh, yes. That I do know. To that question I can answer ‘Yes’ most emphatically.” Poirot said: “You mean Mademoiselle de Bellefort?” “She, certainly. But it is not of her I speak. There was some one else on this boat who disliked Madame, who was very angry because of the way Madame had injured him.” “Good Lord,” said Simon. “What’s all this?” Louise went on, still emphatically nodding her head with the utmost vigour.
“Yes, yes, yes, it is as I say! It concerns the former maid of Madame–my predecessor. There was a man, one of the engineers on this boat who wanted her to marry him. And my predecessor, Marie her name was, she would have done so.
But Madame Doyle, she made inquiries and she discovered that this Fleetwood already he had a wifea wife ofeolour, you understand, a wife of this country. She had gone back to her own people but he was still married to her, you understand.
And so Madame she told all this to Marie and Marie she was very unhappy and she would not see Fleetwood any more. And this Fleetwood, he was infuriated, and when he found out that this Madame Doyle had formerly been Miss Linnet Ridgeway he tells me that he would like to kill her! Her interference ruined his life, he said.” /uise paused triumphantly.
“This is interesting,” said Bate.
Poirot turned to Simon.
“Had you any idea of this?” “None whatever,” said Simon with patent sincerity. “I doubt if Linnet even knew the man was on the boat. She had probably forgotten all about the incident.” He turned sharply to the maid.
“Did you say anything to Mrs. Doyle about this?” “No, Monsieur, of course not.” Poirot said: “Do you know anything about your mistress’s pearls?” “Her pearls?” Louise’s eyes opened very wide. “She was wearing them last night.” “You saw them when she came to bed?” “Yes, Monsieur.” “Where did she put them?”