pullover, and that her mind, far from being receptive to what was going on around her, had been mainly concerned with the personality of the human being inside the periwinkle-blue pullover.
Norman Gale thought:
'I wonder what makes her blush like that… She's wonderful… I'm going to marry her. Yes, I am… But it's no good looking too far ahead. I've got to have some good excuse for seeing her often. This murder business will do as well as anything else… Besides, I really think it would be as well to do something – that whippersnapper of a reporter and his publicity -'
Aloud he said:
'Let's think about it now. Who killed her? Let's go over all the people. The stewards?'
'No,' said Jane.
'I agree. The women across the aisle from us?'
'I don't suppose anyone like Lady Horbury would go killing people. And the other one – Miss Kerr – well, she's far too county. She wouldn't kill an old Frenchwoman, I'm sure.'
'Only an unpopular M.F.H. I expect you're not far wrong, Jane. Then there's mustachios, but he seems, according to the coroner's jury, to be the most likely person; so that washes him out. The doctor? That doesn't seem very likely either.'
'If he'd wanted to kill her, he could have used something quite untraceable and nobody would ever have known.'
'Ye-es,' said Norman doubtfully. 'These untraceable, tasteless, odorless poisons are very convenient, but I'm a bit doubtful if they really exist. What about the little man who owned up to having a blowpipe?'
'That's rather suspicious. But he seemed a very nice little man, and he needn't have said he had a blowpipe; so that looks as though he were all right.'
'Then there's Jameson – no, what's his name? – Ryder.'
'Yes, it might be him.'
'And the two Frenchmen?'
'That's the most likely of all. They've been to queer places. And of course they may have had some reason we know nothing about. I thought the younger one looked very unhappy and worried.'
'You probably would be worried if you'd commited a murder,' said Norman Gale grimly.
'He looked nice, though,' said Jane. 'And the old father was rather a dear. I hope it isn't them.'
'We don't seem to be getting on very fast,' said Norman Gale.
'I don't see how we can get on without knowing a lot of things about the old woman who was murdered. Enemies, and who inherits her money and all that.'
Norman Gale said thoughtfully:
'You think this is mere idle speculation?'
Jane said coolly, 'Isn't it?'
'Not quite.' Gale hesitated, then went on slowly, 'I have a feeling it may be useful.'
Jane looked at him inquiringly.
'Murder,' said Norman Gale, 'doesn't concern the victim and the guilty only. It affects the innocent too. You and I are innocent, but the shadow of murder has touched us. We don't know how that shadow is going to affect our lives.'
Jane was a person of cool common sense, but she shivered suddenly.
'Don't,' she said. 'You make me feel afraid.'
'I'm a little afraid myself,' said Gale.
Chapter 6
Hercule Poirot rejoined his friend, Inspector Japp. The latter had a grin on his face.
'Hullo, old boy,' he said. 'You've had a pretty near squeak of being locked up in a police cell.'
'I fear,' said Poirot gravely, 'that such an occurrence might have damaged me professionally.'
'Well,' said Japp with a grin, 'detectives do turn out to be criminals sometimes – in storybooks.'
A tall thin man with an intelligent melancholy face joined them, and Japp introduced him.
'This is Monsieur Fournier, of the Surete. He has come over to collaborate with us about this business.'
'I think I have had the pleasure of meeting you once some years ago, M. Poirot,' said Fournier, bowing and shaking hands. 'I have also heard of you from M. Giraud.'
A very faint smile seemed to hover on his lips. And Poirot, who could well imagine the terms in which Giraud – whom he himself had been in the habit of referring to disparagingly as the 'human foxhound' – had spoken of him, permitted himself a small discreet smile in reply.
'I suggest,' said Poirot, 'that both you gentlemen should dine with me at my rooms. I have already invited Maitre Thibault. That is, if you and my friend Japp do not object to my collaboration.'
'That's all right, old cock,' said Japp, slapping him heartily on the back. 'You're in on this on the ground floor.'
'We shall be indeed honored,' murmured the Frenchman ceremoniously.
'You see,' said Poirot, 'as I said to a very charming young lady just now, I am anxious to clear my character.'
'That jury certainly didn't like the look of you,' agreed Japp, with a renewal of his grin. 'Best joke I've heard for a long time.'
By common consent, no mention of the case was made during the very excellent meal which the little Belgian provided for his friends.
'After all, it is possible to eat well in England,' murmured Fournier appreciatively, as he made delicate use of a thoughtfully provided toothpick.
'A delicious meal, M. Poirot,' said Thibault.
'Bit Frenchified, but damn good,' pronounced Japp.
'A meal should always lie lightly on the estomac,' said Poirot. 'It should not be so heavy as to paralyze thought.'
'I can't say my stomach ever gives me much trouble,' said Japp. 'But I won't argue the point. Well, we'd better get down to business. I know that M. Thibault has got an appointment this evening, so I suggest that we should start by consulting him on any point that seems likely to be useful.'
'I am your service, gentlemen. Naturally, I can speak more freely here than in a coroner's court. I had a hurried conversation with Inspector Japp before the inquest and he indicated a policy of reticence – the bare necessary facts.'
'Quite right,' said Japp. 'Don't ever spill the beans too soon. But now let's hear all you can tell us of this Giselle woman.'
'To speak the truth, I know very little. I know her as the world knew her – as a public character. Of her private life as an individual I know very little. Probably M. Fournier here can tell you more than I can. But I will say to you this: Madame Giselle was what you call in this country 'a character.' She was unique. Of her antecedents nothing is known. I have an idea that as a young woman she was good-looking. I believe that as a result of smallpox she lost her looks. She was – I am giving you my impressions – a woman who enjoyed power – she had power. She was a keen woman of business. She was the type of hard-headed Frenchwoman who would never allow sentiment to affect her business interests, but she had the reputation of carrying on her profession with scrupulous honesty.'
He looked for assent to Fournier. That gentleman nodded his dark melancholic head.
'Yes,' he said, 'she was honest, according to her lights. Yet the law could have called her to account if only evidence had been forthcoming; but that -' He shrugged his shoulders despondently. 'It is too much to ask – with human nature what it is.'
'You mean?'
'Chantage.'
'Blackmail?' echoed Japp.
