Agatha Christie – Death On The Nile

“And what about my stole?” she demanded.

“Your stole, Mademoiselle?” “Yes, that is my velvet stole you have here.” Race picked up the dripping folds of material.

“This is yours, Miss Van Schuyler?” “Certainly it’s mine!” the old lady snapped. “I missed it last night. I was asking every one if they’d seen it.” Poirot questioned Baee with a glance and the latter gave a slight nod of assent.

“Where did you see it last, Miss Van Schuyler?” “I had it in the saloon yesterday evening. When I came to go to bed I could not find it anywhere.” Race said quietly: “You realise what it’s been used for?” He spread it out, indicating with a finger the scorching and several small holes.

“The murderer wrapped it round the pistol to deaden the noise of the shot.” “Impertinence!” snapped Miss Van Schuyler.

The colour rose in her wizened cheeks.

Race said: “I shall be glad, Miss Van Schuyler, if you will tell me the extent of your previous acquaintance with Mrs. Doyle.” “There was no previous acquaintance.” “But you knew of her?” “i knew who she was, of course.”

“But your families were not acquainted?” “As a family we have always prided ourselves on being exclusive, Colonel Race. My dear mother would never have dreamed of calling upon any of the Hartz family who, outside their wealth, were nobodies.” “That is all you have to say, Miss Van Schuyler?” “I have nothing to add to what I have told you. Linnet Ridgeway was brought up in England and I never saw her till I came aboard this boat.” She rose.

Poirot opened the door for her and she marched out.

The eyes of the two men met.

“That’s her story,” said Race, “and she’s going to stick to it! It may be true. I don’t know. But–Rosalie Otterbourne? I hadn’t expected that.” Poirot shook his head in a perplexed manner. Then he brought down his hand on the table with a sudden bang.

“But it does not make sense,” he cried. “Nora d’un nora d’un nom! It does not make sense.” Race looked at him.

“What do you mean exactly?” “I mean that up to a point it is all the clear sailing. Some one wished to kill Linnet Doyle. Some one overheard the scene in the saloon last night. Some one sneaked in there and retrieved the pistol–Jacqueline de Bellefort’s pistol, remember. Somebody shot Linnet Doyle with that pistol and wrote the letter J on the wall …. All so clear, is it not? All pointing to Jacqueline de Bellefort as the murderess. And then what does the murderer do? Leave the pistol-the damning pistol–Jacqueline de Bellefort’s pistol for every one to find? No, he or she throws the pistol, that particular damning bit of evidence, overboard. Why, my friend, why?” Race shook his head.

“It’s odd.” “It is more than odd–it is impossible!” “Not impossible since it happened!” “I do not mean that. I mean that the sequence of events is impossible. Something is wrong.”

CHAPTER 16

Colonel Race glanced curiously at his colleague. He respected–he had reason to respect–the brain of Hercule Poirot. Yet for the moment he did not follow the other’s process of thought. He asked no question, however. He seldom did ask questions, He proceeded straightforwardly with the matter in hand.

“What’s the next thing to be done? Question the Otterbourne girl?” “Yes, that may advance us a little.” Rosalie Otterbourne entered ungraciously. She did not look nervous or frightened in any way–merely unwilling and sulky.

“Well?” she said. “What is it?” Race was the spokesman.

“We’re investigating Mrs. Doyle’s death,” he explained.

Rosalie nodded.

“Will you tell me what you did last night?” Rosalie reflected a minute.

“Mother and I went to bed early–before eleven. We didn’t hear anything in particular, except a bit of fuss outside Dr. Bessner’s cabin. I heard the old man’s German voice booming away. Of course, I didn’t know what it was all about till this morning.” “You didn’t hear a shot?” “No.” “Did you leave your cabin at all last night?” “No.” “You are quite sure of that?” Rosalie stared at him.

“What do you mean? Of course I’m sure of it.” “You did not, for instance, go round to the starboard side of the boat and throw something overboard?” The colour rose in her face.

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