Смерть на Ниле / Death on the Nile - стр. 58

‘Oh, Monsieur Poirot, isn’t it wonderful? I mean they’re so big and peaceful – and looking at them makes one feel that one’s so small – and rather like an insect – and that nothing matters very much really, does it?’

Mr Fanthorp, who was standing near by, murmured,

‘Very – er – impressive.’

‘Grand, isn’t it?’ said Simon Doyle, strolling up. He went on confidentially to Poirot: ‘You know, I’m not much of a fellow for temples and sightseeing and all that, but a place like this sort of gets you, if you know what I mean. Those old Pharaohs must have been wonderful fellows.’

The other had drifted away. Simon lowered his voice.

‘I’m no end glad we came on this trip. It’s – well, it’s cleared things up. Amazing why it should – but there it is. Linnet’s got her nerve back. She says it’s because she’s actually faced the business at last.’

‘I think that is very probable,’ said Poirot.

‘She says that when she actually saw Jackie on the boat she felt terrible – and then, suddenly, it didn’t matter any more. We’re both agreed that we won’t try to dodge her any more. We’ll just meet her on her own ground and show her that this ridiculous stunt of hers doesn’t worry us a bit. It’s just damned bad form – that’s all. She thought she’d got us badly rattled – but now, well, we just aren’t rattled any more. That ought to show her.’

‘Yes,’ said Poirot thoughtfully.

‘So that’s splendid, isn’t it?’

‘Oh, yes, yes.’

Linnet came along the deck. She was dressed in a soft shade of apricot linen. She was smiling. She greeted Poirot with no particular enthusiasm, 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.