“Hip, hip, hurray! Hip, hip, hurray! Very good, very nice. Thank you very much.”
“How absurd! How do they do it? Are they really buried very deep?”
Simon produced some small change.
“Very good, very nice, very expensive,” he mimicked.
Two small boys in charge of the “show” picked up the coins neatly.
Linnet and Simon passed on.
They had no wish to return to the boat, and they were weary of sightseeing.
They settled themselves with their backs to the cliff and let the warm sun bake them through .
“How lovely the sun is,” thought Linnet. “How warm how safe How lovely it is to be happy How lovely to be me—meme—-Linnet–” Her eyes dosed. She was half asleep, half awake, drifting in the midst of thought that was like the sand drifting and blowing.
Simon’s eyes were open. They, too, held contentment. What a fool he’d been to be rattled that first night There was nothing to be rattled about .
Everything was all right After all, one could trust Jackie– There was a shout–some one running towards him waving their arms–shouting .
Simon stared stupidly for a moment. Then he sprang to his feet and dragged Linnet with him. e- Not a minute too soon. A big boulder hurtling down the cliff crashed past them. If Linnet had remained where she was she would have been crushed to atoms.
White-faced they clung together. Hercule Poirot and Tim Allerton ran up to them.
“Ma foi, Madame, that was a near thing.” All four instinctively looked up at the cliff. There was nothing to be seen. But there was a path along the top. Poirot remembered seeing some natives walking along there when they had first come ashore.
He looked at the husband and wife. Linnet looked dazed still bewildered.
Simon, however, was inarticulate with rage.
“God damn her,” he ejaculated.
He checked himself with a quick glance at Tim Allerton.
The latter said: “Phew, that was near! Did some fool bowl that thing over, or did it get detached on its own?” Linnet was very pale. She said with difficulty: “I think–some fool must have done it.” “Might have crushed you like an eggshell. Sure you haven’t got an enemy, Linnet?”
Linnet swallowed twice and found difficulty in answering the lighthearted raillery.
Poirot said quickly: “Come back to the boat, Madame. You must have a restorative.” They walked there silently, Simon still full of pent-up rage, Tim trying to talk cheerfully and distract Linnet’s mind from the danger she had run, Poirot with a grave face.
And then, just as they reached the gang-plank, Simon stopped dead. A look of amazement spread over his face.
Jacqueline de Bellefort was just coming ashore. Dressed in blue gingham she looked childish this morning.
“Good God,” said Simon under his breath. “So it was an accident, after all.” The anger went out of his face. An overwhelming relief showed so plainly that Jacqueline noticed something amiss.
“Good-morning,” she said. “I’m afraid I’m a little on the late side.” She gave them all a nod and stepped ashore and proceeded in the direction of the temple.
Simon clutched Poirot’s arm. The other two had gone on.
“My God, that’s a relief. I thought–I thought–”
Poirot nodded.
“Yes, yes, I know what you thought.” But he himself still looked grave and preoccupied.
He turned his head and noted carefully what had become of the rest of the party from the ship.
Miss Van Schuyler was slowly returning on the arm of Miss Bowers.
A little farther away Mrs. Allerton was standing laughing at the little Nubian row of heads. Mrs. Otterbourne was with her.
The others were nowhere in sight.
Poirot shook his head as he followed Simon slowly on to the boat.
CHAPTER 10
“Will you explain to me, Madame, the meaning of the word fey?” Mrs. Allerton looked slightly surprised.
She and Poirot were toiling slowly up to the rock overlooking the Second Cataract. Most of the others had gone up on camels, but Poirot had felt that the motion of the camel was slightly reminiscent of that of a ship. Mrs. AileRon had put it on the grounds of personal dignity.