just gave him a cool nod and then drew her husband away.
Poirot realized with a momentary flicker of amusement that he had not made himself popular by his critical attitude. Linnet was used to unqualified admiration of all she was or did. Hercule Poirot had sinned noticeably against this creed.
Mrs Allerton, joining him, murmured:
‘What a difference in that girl! She looked worried and not very happy at Aswan. Today she looks so happy that one might almost be afraid she was fey.’
Before Poirot could respond as he meant, the party was called to order. The official dragoman took charge and the party was led ashore to visit Abu Simbel.
Poirot himself fell into step with Andrew Pennington.
‘It is your first visit to Egypt – yes?’ he asked.
‘Why, no, I was here in 1923. That is to say, I was in Cairo. I’ve never been this trip up the Nile before.’
‘You came over on the Carmanic, I believe – at least so Madame Doyle was telling me.’
Pennington shot a shrewd glance in his direction.
‘Why, yes, that is so,’ he admitted.
‘I wondered if you had happened to come across some friends of mine who were aboard – the Rushington Smiths.’
‘I can’t recall anyone of that name. The boat was full and we had bad weather. A lot of passengers hardly appeared, and in any case the voyage is so short one doesn’t get to know who is on board and who isn’t.’
‘Yes, that is very true. What a pleasant surprise your running into Madame Doyle and her husband. You had no idea they were married?’
‘No. Mrs Doyle had written me, but the letter was forwarded on and I only received it some days after our unexpected meeting in Cairo.’
‘You have known her for many years, I understand?’
‘Why, I should say I have, Monsieur Poirot. I’ve known Linnet Ridgeway since she was just a cute little thing so high-’ He made an illustrating gesture. ‘Her father and I were lifelong friends. A very remarkable man, Melhuish Ridgeway – and a very successful one.’
‘His daughter comes into a considerable fortune, I understand… Ah, pardon – perhaps it is not delicate what I say there.’
Andrew Pennington seemed slightly amused.
‘Oh, that’s pretty common knowledge. Yes, Linnet’s a wealthy woman.’
‘I suppose, though, that the recent slump is bound to affect any stocks, however sound they may be?’
Pennington took a moment or two to answer. He said at last:
‘That, of course, is true to a certain extent. The position is very difficult in these days.’
Poirot murmured: ‘I should imagine, however, that Madame Doyle has a keen business head.’
‘That is so. Yes, that is so. Linnet is a clever practical girl.’
They came to a halt. The guide proceeded to instruct them on the subject of the temple built by the great Rameses. The four colossi of Rameses himself, one pair on each side of the entrance, hewn out of the living rock, looked down on the straggling little party of tourists.
Signor Richetti, disdaining the remarks of the dragoman, was busy examining the reliefs of African and Syrian captives on the bases of the colossi on either side of the entrance.
When the party entered the temple, a sense of dimness and peace came over them. The still vividly coloured reliefs on some of the inner walls were pointed out, but the party tended to break up into groups.
Dr Bessner read sonorously in German from a Baedeker, pausing every now and then to translate for the benefit of Cornelia, who walked in a docile manner beside him. This was not to continue, however. Miss Van Schuyler, entering on the arm of the phlegmatic Miss Bowers, uttered a commanding, ‘Cornelia, come here,’ and the instruction had perforce to cease. Dr Bessner beamed after her vaguely through his thick lenses.
‘A very nice maiden, that,’ he announced to Poirot. ‘She does not look so starved as some of these young women – no, she has the nice curves. She listens too very intelligently; it is a pleasure to instruct her.’
It fleeted across Poirot’s mind that it seemed to be Cornelia’s fate either to be bullied or instructed. In any case she was always the listener, never the talker.
Miss Bowers, momentarily released by the peremptory summons of Cornelia, was standing in the middle of the temple, looking about her with her cool, incurious gaze. Her reaction to the wonders of the past was succinct.
‘The guide says the name of one of these gods or goddesses was Mut. Can you beat it?’
There was an inner sanctuary where sat four figures eternally presiding, stangely dignified in their dim aloofness.
Before them stood Linnet and her husband. Her arm was in his, her face lifted – a typical face of the new civilization, intelligent, curious, untouched by the past.
Simon said suddenly: ‘Let’s get out of here. I don’t like these four fellows – especially the one in the high hat.’
‘That’s Amon, I suppose. And that one is Rameses. Why don’t you like them? I think they’re very impressive.’
‘They’re a damned sight too impressive – there’s something uncanny about them. Come out into the sunlight.’
Linnet laughed, but yielded.
They came out of the temple into the sunshine with the sand yellow and warm about their feet. Linnet began to laugh. At their feet in a row, presenting a momentarily gruesome appearance as though sawn from their bodies, were the heads of half a dozen boys. The eyes rolled, the heads moved rhythmically from side to side, the lips chanted a new invocation:
‘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 – me – me – Linnet-’
Her eyes closed. 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
