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‘Perhaps – revenge!’
‘Idiotic! I’d really understand better if she’d tried to do something melodramatic – like taking a pot shot at me.’
‘You think that would be more like her – yes?’
‘Frankly I do. She’s hot-blooded – and she’s got an ungovernable temper. I shouldn’t be surprised at her doing anything while she was in a white-hot rage. But this spying business-’ He shook his head.
‘It is more subtle – yes! It is intelligent!’
Doyle stared at him.
‘You don’t understand. It’s playing hell with Li
‘And yours?’
Simon looked at him with momentary surprise.
‘Me? I’d like to wring the little devil’s neck.’
‘There is nothing, then, of the old feeling left?’
‘My dear Monsieur Poirot – how can I put it? It’s like the moon when the sun comes out. You don’t know it’s there any more. When once I’d met Li
‘Tiens, c’est drôle, ça!’ muttered Poirot.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Your simile interested me, that is all.’
Again flushing, Simon said:
‘I suppose Jackie told you that I’d only married Li
‘Ah?’
Poirot looked up sharply.
Simon blundered on.
‘It – it – sounds a caddish thing to say, but Jackie was too fond of me!’
‘Une qui aime et un qui se laisse aimer,’ murmured Poirot.
‘Eh? What’s that you say? You see, a man doesn’t want to feel that a woman cares more for him than he does for her.’ His voice grew warm as he went on. ‘He doesn’t want to feel owned, body and soul. It’s that damned possessive attitude! This man is mine – he belongs to me! That’s the sort of thing I can’t stick – no man could stick! He wants to get away – to get free. He wants to own his woman – he doesn’t want her to own him.’
He broke off, and with fingers that trembled slightly he lit a cigarette.
Poirot said:
‘And it is like that that you felt with Mademoiselle Jacqueline?’
‘Eh?’ Simon stared and then admitted: ‘Er – yes – well, yes, as a matter of fact I did. She doesn’t realize that, of course. And it’s not the sort of thing I could ever tell her. But I was feeling restless – and then I met Li
His tone held boyish awe and astonishment.
‘I see,’ said Poirot. He nodded thoughtfully. ‘Yes – I see.’
‘Why can’t Jackie take it like a man?’ demanded Simon resentfully.
A very faint smile twitched Poirot’s upper lip.
‘Well, you see, Monsieur Doyle, to begin with she is not a man.’
‘No, no – but I meant take it like a good sport! After all, you’ve got to take your medicine when it comes to you. The fault’s mine, I admit. But there it is! If you no longer care for a girl, it’s simply madness to marry her. And now that I see what Jackie’s really like and the lengths she is likely to go to, I feel I’ve had rather a lucky escape.’
‘The lengths she is likely to go to,’ Poirot repeated thoughtfully. ‘Have you an idea, Monsieur Doyle, what those lengths are?’
Simon looked at him rather startled.
‘No – at least, what do you mean?’
‘You know she carries a pistol about with her?’
Simon frowned, then shook his head.
‘I don’t believe she’ll use that – now. She might have done so earlier. But I believe it’s got past that. She’s just spiteful now – trying to take it out of us both.’
Poirot shrugged his shoulders.
‘It may be so,’ he said doubtfully.
‘It’s Li
‘I quite realize that,’ said Poirot.
‘I’m not really afraid of Jackie doing any melodramatic shooting stuff, but this spying and following business has absolutely got Li
‘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 pe
‘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 ru
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,’ said Simon 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.’