Death On The Nile, стр. 11
"I wonder."
She stared at him.
"What do you mean?"
"It is very sensible, very logical-all that you say! But it does not explain one thing."
"What is that?"
"Your own attitude, Madame. See you, this pursuit of you, you might take it in two ways-it might cause you annoyanceyes, or it might stir your pity-that your friend should have been so deeply hurt as to throw all regard for the conventions aside. But that is not the way you react-no, to you this persecution is intolerable-and why? It can be for one reason only-that 7ou feel a sense of guilt." Linnet sprang to her feet.
"How dare you? Really, M. Poirot, this is going too far." "But I do dare, Madame! I am going to speak to you quite frankly. I suggest to you that, although you may have endeavoured to gloss over the fact to yourself, you deliberately set about taking your husband from your friend. I suggest that you felt strongly attracted to him at once. But I suggest that there was a moment when you hesitated, when you realised that there was a choice-that you could refrain or go on. I suggest that the initiative rested with you-not with Mr. Doyle. You are beautiful, Madame, you are rich, you are clever, intelligent-and you have charm.
You could have exercised that charm or you could have restrained it. You had everything, Madame, that life can offer. Your friend's life was bound up in one person. You knew that-but though you hesitated, you did not hold your hand.
You stretched it out and like King David you took the poor man's one ewe lamb," There was a silence. Linnet controlled herself with an effort and said in a cold voice: 'All this is quite beside the point!" "No, it is not beside the point. I am explaining to you just why the unexpected appearances of Mademoiselle de Bellefort have upset you so much. It is because, though she may be unwomanly and undignified in what she is doing, you have the inner conviction that she has right on her side." "That's not true!" Poirot shrugged his shoulders.
"You refuse to be honest with yourself." "Not at all." Poirot said gently: "I should say, Madame, that you have had a happy life, that you have been generous and kindly in your attitude towards others." "I have tried to be," said Linnet.
The impatient anger died out of her face. She spoke simply-almost forlornly.
"And that is why the feeling that you have deliberately caused injury to some one upsets you so much, and why you are so reluctant to admit the fact. Pardon me if I have been impertinent, but the psychology it is the most important factor in a
Linnet said slowly: "Even supposing what you say were true-and I don't admit it, mind what can be done about it now? One can't alter the past-one must deal with things as they are." Poirot nodded.
"You have the clear brain. Yes, one cannot go back over the past. One must accept things as they are. And sometimes, Madame, that is all one can do-accept the consequences of one's past deeds." "You mean," said Linnet incredulously, "that I can do nothing-nothing?" "You must have courage, Madame, that is what it seems like to me." Linnet said slowly: "Couldn't you-talk to Jackie-to Miss de Bellefort? Reason with her?" "Yes, I could 'do that. I will do that if you would like me to do so. But do not expect much result. I fancy that Mademoiselle de Bellefort is so much in the grip of a fixed idea that nothing will turn her from it." "But surely we can do something to extricate ourselves?"
"You could, of course, return to England and establish yourself in your own house."
"Even then, I suppose, Jacqueline is capable of planting herself in the village, so that I should see her every time I went out of the grounds.'
"True."
"Besides," said Linnet slowly, "I don't think that Simon would agree to run away.
"What is his attitude in this?" "He's furious-simply furious." Poirot nodded thoughtfully.
Linnet said appealingly: "You will-talk to her?"
"Yes, I will do that. But is is my opinion that I shall not be able to accomplish anything."
Linnet said violently:
"Jackie is extraordinary! One can't tell what she will do!"
"You spoke just now of certain threats she had made. Would you tell me what those threats were?"
Linnet shrugged her shoulders.
"She threatened to-well-kill us both. Jackie can be rather-Latin sometimes."
"I see." Poirot's tone was grave.
Linnet turned to him appealingly: "You will act for me?"
"No, Madame." His tone was firm. "I will not accept a commission from you. I will do what I can in the interests of humanity. That, yes. There is here a situation that is full of difficulty and danger. I will do what I can to clear it up-but I am not very sanguine as to my chance of success." Linnet Doyle said slowly: "But you will not act for me?" "No, Madame," said Hercule Poirot.
Chapter 4
Hercule Poirot found Jacqueline de Belleforte sitting on the rocks directly overlooking the Nile. He had felt fairly certain that she had not retired for the night and that he would find her somewhere about the grounds of the hotel.
She was sitting with her chin cupped in the palms of her hands, and she did not turn her head or look round at the sound of his approach.
"Mademoiselle de Bellefort?" said Poirot. "You permit that I speak to you for a little moment?"
Jacqueline turned her head slightly. A faint smile played round her lips.
"Certainly," she said. ',You are M. Hercule Poirot, I think? Shall I make a guess? You are acting for Mrs. Doyle who has promised you a large fee if you succeed in your mission."
Poirot sat down on a bench near her.
"Your assumption is partially correct," he said, smiling. "I have just come from Mrs. Doyle. But I am not accepting any fee from her and strictly speaking I am not acting for her.'
"Oh"
Jacqueline studied him attentively.
"Then why have you come?" she asked abruptly.
Hercule Poirot's reply was in the form of another question.
"Have you ever seen me before, Mademoiselle?"
She shook her head.
"No, I do not think so."
"Yet I have seen you. I sat next to you once at Chez Ma Tante. You were there with Mr. Simon Doyle."
A strange masklike expression came over the girl's face. She said:
"I remember that evening…"
"Since then," said Poirot, "many things have occurred."
"As you say, many things have occurred."
Her voice was hard with an undertone of desperate bitterness.
"Mademoiselle, I speak as a friend. Bury your dead!"
She looked startled.
"What do you mean?"
"Give up the past! Turn to the future! What is done is done. Bitterness will not undo it."
"I'm sure that that would suit dear Linnet admirably."
Poirot made a gesture.
"I am not thinking of her at this moment! I am thinking of you. You have suffered-yes-but what you are doing now will only prolong that suffering."
She shook her head.
"You're wrong. There are times-when I almost enjoy myself."
"And that, Mademoiselle, is the worst of all." '
She looked up swiftly.
"You're not stupid," she said. She added slowly, "I believe you mean to be kind."
"Go home, Mademoiselle. You are young, you have brains-the world is before you."
Jacqueline shook her head slowly.
"You don't understand--or you won't. Simon is my world."
"Love is not everything, Mademoiselle." Poirot said gently, "It is only when we are young that we think it is."
But the girl still shook her head.
"You don't understand." She shot him a quick look. "You know all about it, of course? You've talked to Linnet? And you were in the restaurant that night…
Simon and I loved each other."
"I know that you loved him."
She was quick to perceive the inflection of his words. She repeated with emphasis: