to Wadi Halfa. I propose to book passages on that under an assumed name. Tomorrow we’ll go on an excursion to Philae. Linnet’s maid can take the luggage. We’ll join the Karnak at Shellal. When Jackie finds we don’t come back, it will be too late–we shall be well on our way. She’ll assume we have given her the slip and gone back to Cairo. In fact I might even bribe the porter to say so. Inquiry at the tourist offices won’t help her, because our names won’t appear. How does that strike you?’
‘It is well imagined, yes. And suppose she waits here till you return?’
‘We may not return. We would go on to Khartoum and then perhaps by air to Kenya. She can’t follow us all over the globe.’
‘No; there must come a time when financial reasons forbid. She has very little money, I understand.’
Simon looked at him with admiration.
‘That’s clever of you. Do you know, I hadn’t thought of that. Jackie’s as poor as they make them.’
‘And yet she has managed to follow you so far?’
Simon said doubtfully:
‘She’s got a small income, of course. Something under two hundred a year, I imagine. I suppose–yes, I suppose she must have sold out the capital to do what she’s doing.’
‘So that the time will come when she has exhausted her resources and is quite penniless?’
‘Yes…’
Simon wriggled uneasily. The thought seemed to make him uncomfortable. Poirot watched him attentively.
‘No,’ he remarked. ‘No, it is not a pretty thought…’
Simon said rather angrily, ‘Well, I can’t help it!’ Then he added, ‘What do you think of my plan?’
‘I think it may work, yes. But it is, of course, a retreat.’
Simon flushed.
‘You mean, we’re running away? Yes, that’s true…But Linnet–’
Poirot watched him, then gave a short nod.
‘As you say, it may be the best way. But remember, Mademoiselle de Bellefort has brains.’
Simon said sombrely: ‘Some day, I feel, we’ve got to make a stand and fight it out. Her attitude isn’t reasonable.’
‘Reasonable, mon Dieu!’ cried Poirot.
‘There’s no reason why women shouldn’t behave like rational beings,’ Simon asserted stolidly.
Poirot said dryly: ‘Quite frequently they do. That is even more upsetting!’ He added, ‘I, too, shall be on the Karnak. It is part of my itinerary.’
‘Oh!’ Simon hesitated, then said, choosing his words with some embarrassment: ‘That isn’t–isn’t–er–on our account in any way? I mean I wouldn’t like to think–’
Poirot disabused him quickly:
‘Not at all. It was all arranged before I left London. I always make my plans well in advance.’
‘You don’t just move on from place to place as the fancy takes you? Isn’t the latter really pleasanter?’
‘Perhaps. But to succeed in life every detail should be arranged well beforehand.’
Simon laughed and said: ‘That is how the more skilful murderer behaves, I suppose.’
‘Yes–though I must admit that the most brilliant crime I remember and one of the most difficult to solve was committed on the spur of the moment.’
Simon said boyishly: ‘You must tell us something about your cases on board the Karnak.’
‘No, no; that would be to talk–what do you call it?–the shop.’
‘Yes, but your kind of shop is rather thrilling. Mrs Allerton thinks so. She’s longing to get a chance to cross-question you.’
‘Mrs Allerton? That is the charming grey-haired woman who has such a devoted son?’
‘Yes. She’ll be on the Karnak too.’
‘Does she know that you–?’
‘Certainly not,’ said Simon with emphasis. ‘Nobody knows. I’ve gone on the principle that it’s better not to trust anybody.’
‘An admirable sentiment–and one which I always adopt. By the way, the third member of your party, the tall grey-haired man–’
‘Pennington?’
‘Yes. He is travelling with you?’
Simon said grimly: ‘Not very usual on a honeymoon, you were thinking? Pennington is Linnet’s American trustee. We ran across him by chance in Cairo.’
‘Ah, vraiment! You permit a question? She is of age, Madame your wife?’
Simon looked amused.
‘She isn’t actually twenty-one yet–but she hadn’t got to ask anyone’s consent before marrying me. It was the greatest surprise to Pennington. He left New York on the Carmanic two days before Linnet’s letter got there telling him of our marriage, so he knew nothing about it.’
‘The Carmanic–’ murmured Poirot.
‘It was the greatest surprise to him when we ran into him at Shepheard’s in Cairo.’
‘That was indeed the coincident!’
‘Yes, and we found that he was coming on this Nile trip–so naturally we foregathered; couldn’t have done anything else decently. Besides that, it’s been–well, a relief in some ways.’ He looked embarrassed again. ‘You see, Linnet’s been all strung up–expecting Jackie to turn up anywhere and everywhere. While we were alone together, the subject kept coming up. Andrew Pennington’s a help that way, we have to talk of outside matters.’
‘Your wife has not confided in Mr Pennington?’
‘No.’ Simon’s jaw looked aggressive. ‘It’s nothing to do with anyone else. Besides, when we started on this Nile trip we thought we’d seen the end of the business.’
Poirot shook his head.
‘You have not seen the end of it yet. No–the end is not yet at hand. I am very sure of that.’
‘I say, Monsieur Poirot, you’re not very encouraging.’
Poirot looked at him with a slight feeling of irritation. He thought to himself: ‘The Anglo-Saxon, he takes nothing seriously but playing games! He does not grow up.’
Linnet Doyle–Jacqueline de Bellefort–both of them took the business seriously enough. But in Simon’s attitude he could find nothing but male impatience and annoyance. He said: ‘You will permit
