Смерть на Ниле / Death on the Nile - стр. 53
‘Why, of course, Uncle Andrew.’ Linnet at once became businesslike. ‘My marriage has made a difference, of course.’
‘That’s just it. Some time or other I want your signature to several documents.’
‘Why not now?’
Andrew Pennington glanced round. Their corner of the observation saloon was quite untenanted. Most of the people were outside on the deck space between the observation saloon and the cabin. The only occupants of the saloon were Mr Ferguson – who was drinking beer at a small table in the middle, his legs encased in their dirty flannel trousers stuck out in front of him, whilst he whistled to himself in the intervals of drinking – M. Hercule Poirot, who was sitting before him, and Miss Van Schuyler, who was sitting in a corner reading a book on Egypt.
‘That’s fine,’ said Andrew Pennington. He left the saloon.
Linnet and Simon smiled at each other – a slow smile that took a few minutes to come to full fruition.
He said: ‘All right, sweet?’
‘Yes, still all right… Funny how I’m not rattled any more.’
Simon said with deep conviction in his tone: ‘You’re marvellous.’
Pennington came back. He brought with him a sheaf of closely written documents.
‘Mercy!’ cried Linnet. ‘Have I got to sign all these?’
Andrew Pennington was apologetic.
‘It’s tough on you, I know. But I’d just like to get your affairs put in proper shape. First of all there’s the lease of the Fifth Avenue property… then there are the Western Land Concessions…’
He talked on, rustling and sorting the papers. Simon yawned.
The door to the deck swung open and Mr Fanthorp came in. He gazed aimlessly round, then strolled forward and stood by Poirot looking out at the pale blue water and the yellow enveloping sands…
‘-you sign just there,’ concluded Pennington, spreading a paper before Linnet and indicating a space.
Linnet picked up the document and glanced through it. She turned back once to the first page, then, taking up the fountain pen Pennington had laid beside her, she signed her name Linnet Doyle…
Pennington took away the paper and spread out another. Fanthorp wandered over in their direction. He peered out through the side window at something that seemed to interest him on the bank they were passing.
‘That’s just the transfer,’ said Pennington. ‘You needn’t read it.’
But Linnet took a brief glance through it. Pennington laid down a third paper. Again Linnet perused it carefully.
‘They’re all quite straightforward,’ said Andrew. ‘Nothing of interest. Only legal phraseology.’
Simon yawned again.
‘My dear girl, you’re not going to read the whole lot through, are you? You’ll be at it till lunch time and longer.’