Murder on the Nile E-Book

Agatha Christie

• Herausgeber: Planet editions
• Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

A gruesome murder takes place on a luxurious cruise on the Nile. Agatha Christie takes us into a world of mystery, intrigue and deadly riddles in her classic "Murder on the Nile". The wealthy heiress Linnet Ridgeway has everything one could wish for: Beauty, wealth and a charming fiancé. But when she embarks on a honeymoon with her newlywed husband, Simon Doyle, she has no idea that her life is in danger. Aboard the steamship Karnak, we meet a host of fascinating characters: the mysterious Egyptologist Dr. Bessner, the enigmatic writer Salome Otterbourne, the obscure lawyer Andrew Pennington, and many others. Each of them seems to have a motive to get Linnet out of the way. When Linnet is found dead in her cabin one evening, confusion reigns. Who is the murderer? Was it the jealous ex-fiancé who feels betrayed? Or is someone else entirely behind the crime? The famous Belgian detective Hercule Poirot is also on board and takes up the investigation. With his sharp mind and incomparable powers of observation, he gradually unravels the web of lies and deception that surrounds the passengers.

Leseprobe

INDEX

Preface

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28

29

30

Agatha Christie

Murder on the Nile

Preface

I wrote Murder on the Nile after a winter spent in Egypt. When I reread it now, it was like being catapulted back onto the steamship that went from Aswan to Wadi Halfa. The passengers were many, but those in the book also travelled in my mind and became more and more real to me.... there, in the setting of a steamship on the Nile. It is a book with many characters and a very elaborate plot. I think the situation at the centre of the story is intriguing and offers more than one dramatic possibility. I also think that the three characters, Simon, Linnet and Jacqueline, are authentic and alive.

My friend Francis L. Sullivan liked the book so much that he asked me to adapt it in a hurry for the theatre, which I eventually did.

I really think it is one of my best 'foreign travel' novels, and if crime novels are 'escapist literature' (and why shouldn't they be?), then the reader can really escape to sunshine and blue water as well as to crime while tied to an armchair.

Agatha Christie

Part One

SIGNS IN THE ORDER OF APPEARANCE

"Linnet Ridgeway!"

"It is indeed her," said Mr Burnaby, owner of the Three Crowns.

In doing so, he elbowed his partner.

The two men stood staring at her with wide eyes and half-open mouths.

A large red Rolls-Royce had just pulled up in front of the post office.

A girl came down, a girl without a hat and in what looked (but, mind you, only looked) like a simple dress. A girl with blonde hair, uniform features and an appealing appearance; a pretty girl, the kind you hardly ever see in Malton-under-Wode.

With quick, decisive steps, he entered the post office.

"It's really her!" repeated Mr Burnaby. Then he continued in a low voice and obsequious tone: 'She's full of millions.... and will now spend a lot of money on her estate. Apparently there will be swimming pools, Italian gardens and a ballroom: Half the house was demolished to build it from scratch...'.

"That's how the money gets to the village," said the friend.

He was a thin, unkempt-looking man. His tone was resentful and envious.

Mr Burnaby nodded.

"Yes, it is a great thing for Malton-under-Wode. Really a great thing."

Mr Burnaby was satisfied.

"This will be a good wake-up call for us," he added.

Very different from Sir George,' said the latter.

"Eh, but the betting hampered him," said Mr Burnaby in a condescending tone. "The man never had any luck with horses."

"How much did you receive from the sale of the inheritance?"

'Sixty thousand pounds clean, I hear'.

The thin man let out a whistle.

Then the other continued triumphantly: 'And it looks like you'll be spending another sixty thousand dollars on the opera!

"Damn!" said the thin boy. "Can you tell me where you got all that money?"

"In America, I heard. His mother was the only daughter of one of those filthy rich people. Like in the movies, in short'.

The girl left the post office and got back into the car.

As she walked away, the thin man followed her with his gaze.

It all seems wrong...' he murmured 'Beautiful and also rich... is too much! If a girl is rich, she shouldn't have the right to be beautiful. And she is beautiful.... This girl really has it all. It's not right..."

Extract from the Daily Blague Chronicle:

Among the guests who dined at Chez Ma Tante was the beautiful Linnet Ridgeway. She was accompanied by Lady Joanna Southwood, Lord Windlesham and Toby Bryce. Miss Ridgeway is known to be the daughter of Melhuish Ridgeway, who married Anna Hartz, who had inherited a large fortune from her grandfather Leopold Hartz. The beautiful Linnet is the talk of the town and it is rumoured that her engagement will soon be announced. Lord Windlesham looks very épris indeed!

'Darling, I am sure everything will be wonderful,' said Lady Joanna Southwood.

She was sitting in Linnet Ridgeway's bedroom at Wode Hall.

From the window, beyond the gardens, one could see the open landscape with the blue shadows of the forests on the horizon.

"It's almost perfect, isn't it?" said Linnet.

She rested her arms on the window sill, her expression eager, brisk and lively. Behind her, Joanna Southwood appeared as a blur: a woman of twenty-seven, tall, slender, an elegant, elongated face with bizarrely thinned eyebrows.

"And you have already achieved so much in such a short time! Have you had many architects and so on?"

"Three.

"What are architects like? I don't think I have ever met one'.

"I can't complain. Although sometimes I found they didn't make much sense.

"Honey, I think you'll be fine. There is no one in the world more practical than you!"

Joanna took a pearl necklace from the toilet.

"They are real... aren't they, Linnet?"

'Of course'.

"I know it's 'natural' for you, my dear, but not for most people who are used to cultured pearls or cheap Woolworth's! Darling, they really are incredible, and how finely selected they are.... must be worth an incredible amount!"

"Don't you think they're a bit tasteless?"

"But no, not at all... they're great. How much are they worth?"

"About fifty thousand pounds.

"A nice sum! Aren't you afraid they will be stolen?"

"No, I always wear them.... and then they are insured".

"Can I wear it around my neck until dinner, darling?"

Linnet burst out laughing.

"Sure, if you want."

"You know, Linnet, that I really envy you? You have everything. You are twenty years old, you are your own boss, you have a lot of money, you are handsome and healthy. You're even smart! When are you going to be twenty-one?"

"In June. I will have a big party in London to celebrate my coming of age'.

And then you will marry Charles Windlesham? The society scribes think of nothing else. And he seems to be falling in love with you'.

Linnet straightened his shoulders.

"I don't know. I don't want to marry anyone yet."

"Honey, you're right! It's not the same after that, is it?"

The phone rang and Linnet took the call.

"Yes? Yes?"

It was the butler's voice that answered: "I have Miss de Bellefort on the line. Shall I put her through?"

"Bellefort? Oh, sure, yes, give it to me'.

A click was heard, then a faint, anxious, almost wheezing voice: "Hello, is this Miss Ridgeway? Linnet!"

"Jackie, darling! I haven't heard from you in a long time!"

"I know it's terrible. Linnet, I really need to see you."

"Honey, can't you come here to the estate? I can't wait to show you my new toy'.

"Yes, that's all I ask."

"Then jump in a car or on a train and come with me."

"Yes, yes, of course... I've got a scary two-seater, a real smasher. I paid fifteen quid for her: some days she runs like clockwork, but she's always cranky. If I don't get there in time for tea, it means she's had one of her bad days. See you soon, my dear'.

Linnet hung up the phone and turned towards Joanna.

"She is my oldest friend, Jacqueline de Bellefort. We were friends at a nuns' boarding school in Paris. Luck was not on her side. Her father is a French count, her mother an American... ...from the South. He ran off with another woman and she lost everything in the Wall Street crash. Jackie was left penniless. I don't know how she did it for the last two years."

Joanna polished her blood-red nails with her friend's accessories. She shifted her head slightly to check the result.

"Darling," he said in a low voice, "but won't it be annoying? If something bad happens to my friends, I'll dump them immediately! I know it sounds thoughtless, but it will save me a lot of trouble later! You always have to lend them money, or they have opened a tailor's shop and you are forced to buy certain ugly clothes from them. They might even start painting lampshades or making batik scarves'.

"So if I became poor, you would also leave me tomorrow?"

"Yes, darling, it is true. I tell you sincerely. I only like people who are happy and successful. And I think everyone feels that way.... ...only most people would never admit it. They would simply say that they can't stand Mary, Emily or Pamela anymore! Their problems have made them so weird and resentful.... poor thing!".

"You really are terrible, Joanna!"

"I'm just thinking about myself, like everyone else".

"I'm not just thinking of myself!"

"And sure! There is no need to stoop to such calculations, because your elegant middle-aged American administrators give you a nice income every quarter'.

"And you're wrong about Jacqueline," Linnet said. "She's not a leech. I tried to help her in the past, but she always stopped me. She's proud as hell!"

"Why is he in such a hurry to see you? I bet he wants something. Just wait and see."

"She seemed upset for some reason," Linnet admitted. "Jackie gets angry very easily. Once she even stabbed a person with a pocket knife!"

"Honey, I have the shivers!"

"A boy was harassing a dog. Jackie tried to stop him, but he would not listen to reason. He grabbed him and shook him by the arms, but the boy was much stronger, so Jackie pulled out his pocket knife and plunged it into his body. It was a terrible thing!"

"I believe it. That must have been embarrassing!"

Linnet's maid entered the room. She muttered a few apologetic words, took a dress from the wardrobe and left the flat with it.

"What's wrong with Marie?" asked Joanna. "Her eyes were swollen with tears."

"Poor thing! As I told you, she wanted to marry a man working in Egypt. She didn't know much about him, so I decided to investigate to make sure there were no nasty surprises. It turns out he already has a wife.... And three children."

"You must always make many enemies, Linnet."

"Enemies?" Linnet looks surprised.

"Enemies, my dear. You are disturbingly ruthless. And you are incredibly good at always doing the right thing."

Linnet laughed.

"Come on, I don't have a single enemy in the world."

Lord Windlesham sat down under the cedar tree and let his gaze rest on the elegant silhouette of Wode Hall. Nothing disturbed the ancient beauty and the new buildings were just around the corner and out of sight. The estate was a charming and relaxing sight in the autumn sun. But when he looked at it, Charles Windlesham no longer saw Wode Hall. Instead he saw an imposing Elizabethan mansion with a large park: a much more sombre scene.... was his family's residence, Charltonbury, and in the foreground was a silhouette, the silhouette of a girl with shiny blond hair and a confident expression on her face.... Linnet, the new mistress of Charltonbury!

He felt full of hope. Linnet's refusal could not be categorical. Yes, it was probably just a way of asking him for a little more time. And it could wait...

Everything was so perfect. Sure, who wouldn't have married with such a dowry? But he wasn't even in a situation where he had to force himself and put his feelings aside. He loved Linnet. And he would have married her even if she had been penniless and not one of the richest girls in England. And fortunately she was.

His thoughts turned to tantalising prospects for the future. Who knows, the Roxdale estate, the restoration of the west wing, and all this without giving up the hunting trips to Scotland....

There, in the sunlight, Charles Windlesham dreamed.

It was four o'clock when a rickety two-seater arrived, announced by the crunch of gravel. Out of it came a girl, small and slender, with a tuft of dark hair on her head. She hurried up the stairs and energetically rang the bell.

A few minutes later, she was escorted into the villa's spacious and majestic living room, while a clerical-looking butler said in a formal and concerned tone: 'Miss de Bellefort.

"Linnet!"

"Jackie!"

Windlesham took a small step back and watched with some sympathy as the small, impetuous creature pounced on Linnet with open arms.

"Lord Windlesham... Miss de Bellefort... my best friend."

A pretty girl, he thought, not really pretty, actually, but still attractive, with those dark curls and big eyes. He said a few words and then discreetly left the two friends alone.

Jacqueline leapt to her feet in her typical manner, which Linnet had not forgotten: 'Windlesham? Windlesham? Is this the man the papers are talking about? The one you are about to marry? Is that it, Linnet? Is that it?"

"Maybe," he murmured.

'Honey... I'm so happy! That sounds like a good idea."

"Oh, take it easy... I haven't made a decision yet'.

"Of course! Every self-respecting queen must make all the relevant considerations before choosing a consort.

"Don't be ridiculous, Jackie."

"But you are a queen, Linnet! You always have been. Sa Majesté, la reine Linette. Linette the blonde! And I... I am the Queen's trusted friend! The maid of honour."

"Jackie, darling, what nonsense! Where have you been all this time? You disappeared. And you never wrote."

"You know I hate writing letters. Where have I been? Oh, I've been practically swamped with work. By work, I mean. Terrible jobs with terrible women!"

'Honey, how I wish...'.

"That I accepted the Queen's generosity? Well, my dear, I won't beat about the bush, that's why I'm here. No, not to borrow money. I haven't gone that far yet! But I have a great favour to ask of you!"

'Tell me.

"Perhaps you can understand me, since you are marrying this Windlesham."

For a moment Linnet looked confused, then her gaze lit up.

"Jackie, you mean...?"

"Yes, honey, I'm engaged!"

Well, that's that! In fact, you seemed particularly, how shall I say... lively. You always are, of course, but today in a special way'.

"I feel exactly the same, alive".

"Tell me about him.

"His name is Simon Doyle. He is tall and slender, sincere and incredibly simple, almost naive. He is so handsome! He is poor, in the sense that he is penniless. He belongs to what one would call the 'landed gentry' .... but to an, shall we say, impoverished landed gentry. He is not even the eldest son. His family is originally from Devonshire. He loves the country and all it has to offer. And he has spent the last five years in a stuffy council office. Now the staff have been cut and he's lost his job. Linnet, I could die if we don't get married! Die! Die! Die...!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Jackie."

"I could die, really! I am crazy about him. And he's crazy about me. We can't live without each other'.

"Honey, you're in such a bad mood!"

"I know. It's terrible, isn't it? That's love: if it gets you, you can't do anything about it.

He was silent for a moment, his large dark eyes had a sudden tragic expression. He shuddered slightly.

"Sometimes... sometimes it's scary! Simon and I were made for each other. I won't be able to love anyone else. And you have to help us, Linnet. I heard you bought this house and I had an idea. Look, I think you need a caretaker... or two. I want you to give Simon that job."

"Oh!" marvelled Linnet.

Jacqueline continued without giving her time to reply: 'This is a subject she knows very well. He knows everything about managing an estate.... he grew up on an estate. And he has experience in the business world. Oh, Linnet, you will give him the job, won't you? Do it for me. If he's not up to it, you can fire him. But I'm sure he will be. Then he and I can live together in a little house, you and I will see each other often.... And I'll have a lush vegetable garden and.... everything will be great!". He stood up. "Linnet, tell me you will. Beautiful lantern! A tall, blond linnet! My beautiful linnet! Tell me you will!"

"Jackie..."

"So?"

Linnet burst out laughing. "My Jackie! You are so funny! Bring your friend here, let me meet him and we'll talk more."

Jackie ran to her to hug her and shower her with kisses.

"Linnet, my dear, you are a true friend! I knew it. I knew you wouldn't let me down. You are the most lovable person in the world. I will see you soon."

"But Jackie... won't you stop?"

"Me? No, no. I'm going back to London and tomorrow I'll come back here with Simon and we'll see if we can arrange it. You'll love it. He's so sweet."

"But you don't even have time to drink tea?"

"No, Linnet. I'm too excited. I have to go and warn Simon. I know I'm crazy, my dear, but I can't help it. Maybe marriage will change me. It seems to make people more reflective."

He went towards the door, then stopped and came back to hug her one last time.

'Dear Linnet... you are one of a kind'.

Monsieur Gaston Blondin, the owner of Chez Ma Tante, a trendy little restaurant, was not the type to have a particular clientele. Indecently rich people, attractive men and women or even celebrities or members of the nobility might even wait in vain for a sign of attention from him. Only on rare occasions would Monsieur Blondin, with his barely perceptible superiority, personally greet a customer, accompany him to a prestigious table and exchange a few polite words with him.

But that evening Monsieur Blondin had exercised his royal prerogative three times over: for a duchess, for a famous racing driver and for a funny-looking little man with an imposing black moustache who no one would have thought could add charm to Chez Ma Tante with his presence.

Monsieur Blondin, however, seemed too considerate for him.

In the last half hour, anyone who had come to the door had been told that the restaurant was already full; but now, as if by magic, a table had appeared, one of the best in the place. Monsieur Blondin accompanied the customer with all his obsequiousness.

"Of course there is always a table for you, Monsieur Poirot! I wish you would come more often and grace us with your presence!"

Hercule Poirot smiled as he recalled the episode with a corpse, a waiter, Monsieur Blondin and a beautiful lady.

"You are really too kind, Monsieur Blondin," he said.

"Are you here alone, Monsieur Poirot?".

"Yes, I am alone.

"Our Jules will prepare a dinner for them that will be pure poetry.... yes, poetry indeed! Women, fascinating as they are, have one drawback: they distract attention from the food! I assure you that you will enjoy your dinner, Monsieur Poirot. And now let us talk about the wine...'.

This was followed by a technical discussion in which Jules, the maître d'hôtel, also participated.

Before leaving, Monsieur Blondin paused for a moment. Then, lowering his voice, he asked in a confidential tone: "Do you have any important cases to work on?"

Poirot shook his head.

"I have a lot of free time, unfortunately," he said quietly. "Over the years I have saved some money and now I can enjoy life without doing anything."

"I envy them.

"No, no, it would be unwise of you to envy me. I assure you it is not as good as it seems." He sighed: "How true is the saying that man was forced to invent work to escape the burden of thought.

Monsieur Blondin raised his arms.

"But there is so much to do! For example, travelling!"

"Yes, on the road. I did and it wasn't so bad. I think I will go to Egypt this winter. The climate, they say, is wonderful! A way to escape the fog, the grey, the monotony of the rain'.

"Ah! Egypt..." Monsieur Blondin took a deep breath.

"I think you can now travel by train without using the sea route, with the exception of the English Channel.

"Ah, the sea... don't you like it?".

Hercule Poirot shook his head and trembled slightly.

"Neither do I," said Monsieur Blondin in a sympathetic tone. "The effects on the stomach are really strange."

"But only with certain stomachs! There are people who don't mind the movement of the waves at all. They even find it pleasant!"

"A real injustice on the part of the good Lord," remarked Monsieur Blondin.

He shook his head in disappointment and turned away, contemplating his sacrilegious thought.

The waiters served the table with quiet steps and deft hands. Melba toast, butter, a bucket of ice cream: everything that accompanies a good meal.

The small orchestra of black musicians broke into a frenzy of bizarre and discordant sounds. London danced.

Hercule Poirot looked around and recorded every sensation in his precise and orderly mind.

Most of the faces had a bored and tired expression! Some of these burly men, however, seemed to be enjoying themselves.... Quite the opposite of the expression of patient forbearance on the faces of their dance partners. The fat woman in purple, on the other hand, was beaming.... No doubt fatness in life provides a certain balance.... an enthusiasm... a verve that thin people are denied.

There were also some young people: some were staring into space, some were bored, some were obviously unhappy. It is absurd to call youth a time of happiness.... Youth is the time when one is most vulnerable!

His gaze softened when he came across a couple. A well-matched couple: he tall and broad-shouldered, she slender and delicate. Two bodies moving in a perfect rhythm of happiness. The happiness of being there, in that moment, together.

Suddenly the dance stopped. A round of applause set them off again immediately. After a second encore, the two returned to their own table, which was next to Poirot's.

The girl's cheeks were flushed, she was laughing. When she sat down, he could study her face, which, while still laughing, rose towards his companion.

There was something other than cheerfulness in his eyes.

Hercule Poirot shook his head doubtfully.

She is too much in love, the little one,' he said to himself. 'That's not good. No, it's not good."

And then a word caught his attention. "Egypt."

He heard their voices clearly: the girl's was young, shrill, haughty, with a slight trace of a foreign accent in her voice; the man's was pleasant, deep, perfectly English.

"I don't want to put the cart before the horse, Simon. I tell you that Linnet will not let me down!".

'I might let them down'.

"Nonsense... this job is made just for you."

"I think so too... I have no doubt that I would be capable. And I intend to make a good impression.... for your sake!"

The girl laughed softly, a laugh of pure happiness.

"We will wait three months to make sure he is not dismissed... and then...".

"And then I will give you everything I have on earth.... is what they say, more or less, isn't it?"

"And, as I said, we will spend our honeymoon in Egypt. To hell with it if it's expensive! I've wanted to go to Egypt my whole life! The Nile, the pyramids, the desert sands...".

He lowered his voice a little and said: "And we will see all this together, Jackie.... together. Won't it be wonderful?"

"Who knows... Will it be as wonderful for you as it is for me? Do you really love me... as much as I love you?"

His voice suddenly became high-pitched, his eyes widened, almost with fear.

The man's reply was equally cutting: 'Don't talk nonsense, Jackie.

But the girl repeats: 'Who knows...'.

So he shrugged his shoulders. "Let's dance.

Hercule Poirot murmured to himself: 'Une qui aime et un qui se laisse amer. Yes, who knows, I say that too'.

"What if he's an idiot?" said Joanna Southwood.

Linnet shook his head. "But no. I trust Jacqueline's taste."

"Oh, but when you are in love, you don't see things as they are," Joanna whispered.

Linnet shook his head again, annoyed. Then he changed the subject.

"I need to talk to Mr Pierce about these plans."

"Plans?"

"Yes, some ugly and unhealthy old houses. I decided to demolish them and relocate the residents.

"How hygienic and selfless you are, my dear!"

"They should have left anyway. Those houses would have overlooked my new swimming pool'.

"And those who live there are happy to leave?"

"Most of them are. Some people behave stupidly... which is really annoying. They don't seem to want to understand that their living conditions will improve!"

"But you won't be intimidated, will you?"

"My dear Joanna, it is all for his sake."

Yes, my dear. I am certain of it. Also because you are obliged to do so'.

Linnet frowned. Joanna laughed.

"Come on, admit it, you're a bully. A benevolent tyrant, if you will."

"I'm not a bit bossy".

"But you always want to do it your way."

'Not really'.

"Linnet Ridgeway, can you look me in the eye and tell me even once when you didn't do exactly what you wanted?"

'Very often'.

Oh yes, very often... that's not an answer. You couldn't give me a concrete example even if you thought about it for a whole day! Here is Linnet Ridgeway's triumphal procession in his golden carriage'.

"Do you think I am selfish?" asked Linnet.

No... you are simply irresistible. The combined effect of money and charm. Everything and everyone bows at your passing. What money can't buy, a smile does. Result: Linnet Ridgeway, the girl who has everything'.

"Don't talk nonsense, Joanna!"

"Why, isn't it?"

'Yes, indeed... but said like that it sounds like something disgusting!'

"Of course it's disgusting, darling! Sooner or later you may get bored and terribly tired. But in the meantime, enjoy your triumphal procession in the golden carriage. I just wonder, and I really wonder, what happens when you want to drive at all costs along a road with a sign saying 'no trespassing'.

"What nonsense, Joanna." He turned to Lord Windlesham, who had just joined them: 'Joanna says terrible things about me.

'All wickedness, baby, all wickedness,' Joanna said in a vague tone as she got up from her chair.

He left without a word. He had noticed a twinkle in Windlesham's eyes.

He was silent for a few moments. Then he got straight to the point.

"Have you made up your mind, Linnet?"

Linnet said slowly: 'Am I acting like a monster? If I'm not sure about my feelings, I should say no...'.

"Don't say that," he interrupted her, "you still have time - all you want. But I think we would be very happy together.

"You see..." Linnet's tone was that of a sad child. "I'm having so much fun.... Especially with all this." She put her arm around herself and pointed. "I wanted to turn Wode Hall into my ideal country estate and I think I've succeeded, don't you think?"

"It is wonderful here. Wonderful architecture. Everything is in its place. You did very well, Linnet."

He paused and then continued.

"And you like Charltonbury, don't you? Of course, it needs renovation... but you are so good at these things. You like them."

"Yes, of course, Charltonbury is divine".

He said this with enthusiasm, but inside he felt a sudden cold shiver. A discord, an intrusion into his full life.

At the moment she did not stop to reflect on this feeling, but later, when Windlesham left her alone, she tried to plumb the depths of her mind.

Charltonbury ... Yes, it was true, the news from Charltonbury had shocked her. But why? Charltonbury was well known. Windlesham's ancestors had owned it since Elizabethan times. Being the Lady of Charltonbury meant being at the top of society. Windlesham was one of the most attractive parties in England.

Of course he could not take Wode seriously.... who was nowhere near Charltonbury.

Ah, but Wode was his! Linnet had found it, bought it, rebuilt and renovated it and spent a lot of money on it. It was his property, his empire.

But in a way it would no longer matter if he married Windlesham. What would they have done with two properties? And of the two, Wode would obviously have been the one to get rid of.

She, Linnet Ridgeway, would no longer exist. She would simply have been the Countess of Windlesham, bringing a substantial dowry to Charltonbury and her lord. She would have been a queen consort, no longer a queen.

"I am ridiculous," he said to himself.

But it was strange how much he hated the thought of leaving Wode.....

Wasn't there something else bothering you?

Jackie's voice, in that bizarre, agitated tone, when she said, 'I might die if we don't get married! Die! Die..."

So confident, yes, so confident. Could he say he felt the same way about Windlesham? No, not at all. Perhaps he wouldn't have felt the same way about anyone. It must have been... it was so extraordinary... to feel that way....

A car could be heard through the open window.

Linnet's ears pricked up immediately. It had to be Jackie and her young companion. He went to receive them.

He was at the front door when Jacqueline and Simon got out of the car.

"Linnet!" Jackie ran towards them. "This is Simon. Simon, this is Linnet. You are the most beautiful person in the world."

Linnet was confronted by a tall young man with broad shoulders, dark blue eyes, brown curls, an angular chin and a simple, charming, almost childlike smile....

He stretched out a hand. And the hand shaking his was firm and warm.... She liked the way he looked at her, this genuine, naive admiration.

Jackie must have told him how extraordinary she was, and of course now he had confirmation....

He felt a warm, gentle rush run through his veins.

"Isn't it great?" he said. "Come in, Simon, and let me welcome my new administrator."

And as he turned to move on, he thought: 'I'm so... so happy. I like Jackie's friend.... I like him a lot...".

Then a sudden twinge: 'What luck, Jackie...'.

Tim Allerton stretched out in his wicker chair, yawned and looked out to sea. He cast a glance in his mother's direction.

Mrs Allerton was a beautiful woman in her fifties. The woman twisted her mouth into a stern expression as she looked at her son, trying to hide how attached she was to him. But even strangers didn't often fall for that. As far as Tim was concerned, never.

"Do you really like Majorca, Mum?" he asked.

"Well..." said Mrs Allerton, "it's cheap."

"And cold," Tim said with a little shiver.

He was a tall, slim young man with dark hair and a rather narrow chest. His lips were curved in a sweet expression, his eyes were sad and his chin was not taut, his hands were long and delicate.

Suffering from tuberculosis a few years earlier, he had never been a robust person. Everyone knew that he wrote, but among his friends it was well known that it was not good to examine the fruits of his labour.

"What do you think, Tim?"

Mrs Allerton was worried. Her dark brown eyes looked suspicious.

Tim Allerton smiled. "I was thinking of Egypt.

"Egypt?" asked Mrs Allerton, confused.

"Nice and warm, my dear mother. Golden beaches to laze on. The Nile. I would love to go up the Nile, wouldn't you?"

"Oh, yes, of course!" His tone was dry. "But Egypt is expensive, darling. It's not a place for people who have to count their pennies."

Tim laughed. He stood up and stretched. Suddenly he seemed full of life, excited. There was a hint of excitement in his voice.

I will take care of the expenses. Yes, my dear mother. A small ripple in the stock market. With incredibly satisfying effects. I heard about it this morning'.

"This morning?" exclaimed Mrs Allerton. "You only got one letter, the one from....".

He paused and bit his lip.

Tim seemed unable to decide for a moment whether to be amused or annoyed. He decided on the first option.

"Joannas'. He finished the sentence in an icy tone. "It's true, mother. You have become the queen of detectives! The famous Hercule Poirot should fear for his crown if you were around."

Mrs Allerton gave him a dirty look.

"I just saw the handwriting...".

"And you were aware that it was not that of a stockbroker? Right. I only heard about it yesterday. Poor Joanna's handwriting is clearly visible ... stretched across the envelope like the web of a drunken spider."

"What does Joanna say about this? Is there any news?"

Mrs Allerton endeavoured to give her voice a casual, detached tone. The friendship that had developed between her son and her second cousin, Joanna Southwood, had always irritated her. Not that there was anything different. Of that she was sure. Tim had never shown any romantic interest in Joanna and the feeling was mutual. Their bond seemed centred on gossip and many mutual friends. They both liked people and also talked about people. Joanna was funny, but also dismissive.

Not because she feared Tim would fall in love with her, Mrs Allerton stiffened when Joanna was present or letters arrived from her.

She felt something else, hard to define.... perhaps an instinctive jealousy at the genuine pleasure Tim seemed to take from her company. Mrs Allerton and her son got along so well that they seemed like a friendly couple, and she found it annoying to see him so interested and taken with another woman. She had also noticed how his presence created a kind of barrier between the two members of the new generation. She had often caught them chatting: they would almost stop talking when she arrived, only to change the subject all too obviously because they felt compelled to engage her in conversation. In short, Mrs Allerton did not like Joanna Southwood. She thought she was insincere, artificial and basically shallow. It was hard for her not to say all this without half-measures.

In response to her question, Tim took the letter out of his pocket and leafed through it. It was a very long letter and he couldn't help but notice his mother.

"No big deal," he said. 'The Devenish are getting a divorce. Old Monty was arrested for drunk driving. Windlesham has gone to Canada. He is said to have taken Linnet Ridgeway's rejection very badly. Apparently she is going to marry her caretaker'.

"I am speechless! Is he such a scary guy?"

"No, no, not at all. He's one of the Devonshire Doyles. With no money, of course... And he was engaged to one of Linnet's best friends. A tricky business."

"Yes, a very obnoxious story," said Mrs Allerton, blushing.

Tim gave her an affectionate look.

"I know, my dear mother. Don't you think it's nice to steal another woman's husband or something."

"In my day, we had sound principles," Mrs Allerton said. "And that was a great thing! Today young people think they can do whatever they want.

Tim smiled. They don't just think it. They do. See Linnet Ridgeway!"

"Exactly, it's something terrible!"

Tim looked at her with a twinkle in his eye.

"Have courage, dear old backward man! Maybe he's right. In any case, I have never taken anyone's wife or girlfriend away."

"I am sure you would never do such a thing," said Mrs Allerton. Then she added in a cordial tone, "I educated you well."

"So the credit is yours, not mine".

He gave her a playful smile as he folded the letter and put it away. Mrs Allerton had her doubts: "He usually shows me the letters. At Joanna's she only reads me parts."

But she suppressed this unworthy thought and decided to behave like a gentlewoman as usual.

"Is Joanna OK?" he asked.

'So-so. Now he is thinking of opening a delicatessen in Mayfair'.

"She always says she's broke," Mrs Allerton remarked with a hint of gloating, "but she wears clothes that must cost a lot of money. She is always impeccably dressed."

'Yeah, well...' said Tim, 'he probably doesn't pay them. No, Mum, I don't mean what your Edwardian mentality suggests. I mean that the bills literally don't get paid."

Mrs Allerton sighed.

"I don't understand how you can behave like this."

"It's a kind of gift," Tim said, "you just have to have extravagant taste and disregard the value of money to get the recognition you want."

"Yes, but you will end up in court and have to answer for bankruptcy like poor Sir George Wode".

"You've always had a soft spot for that old trader.... horse perhaps because he once compared you to a rosebud during a ball in 1879".

"I wasn't even born in 1879," Mrs Allerton replied vigorously. "Sir George has a charming manner and I don't want you to call him a horse trader."

"Some pretty funny stories are told about him, I have heard them from people who know him."

"You and Joanna never pay attention to what you say about others; anything goes, as long as it is something unkind."

Tim raised his eyebrows.

"My dear mother, how you have warmed up. I didn't know you cared so much for old Wode."

"You have no idea how difficult it was for him to sell Wode Hall. He really cared about the house."

Tim bit his lip to avoid answering. Who was to judge? Then he said thoughtfully, "You know, I think you're right. When Linnet asked him to come and see how he had fixed up the estate, he refused, and rather rudely."

"It's quite natural. You should have imagined it."

"I think he has a poisoned tooth towards her..... Every time he meets her he starts muttering incomprehensible things. He doesn't forgive her for paying him so much for a property that was now falling apart."

"And you can't understand that?" blurted Mrs Allerton.

"Honestly," Tim said quietly, "no. Why keep living in the past? Why cling to the things that were?"

"What do you think they can be replaced with?"

He straightened his shoulders. Excitement, perhaps. Novelty. The joy of never knowing what will happen tomorrow. Instead of inheriting a useless piece of land, the pleasure of earning by one's own efforts through one's own ingenuity and skills.

"With a successful stock market operation!"

He laughed. "Why not?"

"What if another operation results in an equivalent loss?".

"That, my dear mother, is a tactless remark. And also inappropriate today.... How about my idea of going to Egypt instead?"

"Well..."

He interrupted her with a smile. 'It is decided. We both always wanted to go to Egypt.

"When would you like to go there?"

"Oh, next month. January is the best time. We will enjoy the pleasant company of the guests of this hotel for another two weeks'.

"Tim," Mrs Allerton gave him a wicked look. Then she added guiltily, "I'm afraid I promised Mrs Leech that you would accompany her to the station. She doesn't understand a word of Spanish."

Tim grimaced.

"Is it because of her ring? With that blood-red ruby? You still think it was stolen? If you want, I'll go with her, but it's a waste of time. The only thing she'll achieve is to get a poor maid into trouble. I clearly saw her wearing it on her finger when she went into the water that day. It slipped off her in the sea without her noticing it'.

"She says she is very sure she took it off and left it in the toilet".

"Well, he didn't. I saw it with my own eyes. She really is a fool. Isn't it silly for a woman to jump into the sea in December and make everyone think the water is warm just because it's a bit sunny? And robust women should be absolutely forbidden to bathe; they are disgusting in their costumes'.

Mrs Allerton murmured, "Then I shouldn't take a bath either.

Tim burst out laughing.

"You? You can make life difficult for young girls!"

Mrs Allerton sighed: 'How I wish for you that there were younger people here.

Tim Allerton shook his head firmly.

"That's not true. We are so good together, the two of us, without outside distractions.

"But you would be happy if Joanna was here."

"No." His tone was surprisingly firm. "You are so wrong. I like Joanna, but I don't like her very much, and having her too close gets on my nerves. I'm glad she's not here. I certainly wouldn't tear my hair out at the thought of not seeing her again. Almost in a whisper, she added: 'There's only one woman in the world I respect and admire, and I think, Mrs Allerton, you know very well who I'm talking about.

The mother blushed and became confused.

More serious than ever, Tim said: 'There are not many really nice women in the world. And you are one of them."

In a flat overlooking Central Park, Mrs Robson exclaimed: 'This is wonderful! You are really very lucky, Cornelia".

Cornelia Robson blushed at these words.

She was a tall, awkward girl with brown puppy-dog eyes.

"Oh, this is going to be great!" he said almost breathlessly.

Old Miss Van Schuyler inclined her head with satisfaction: this is exactly the way her less affluent relatives should behave towards her.

"I always dreamed of going to Europe," Cornelia sighed, "but I didn't think I could really do it.

"Of course Miss Bowers will come with me as usual," said Miss Van Schuyler, "but as a lady-in-waiting I find her limited, I mean very limited. There are many little things Cornelia can do for me."

I would love to do that, cousin Marie,' Cornelia said enthusiastically.

"Well, that's all sorted then," said Miss Van Schuyler. "Run and find Miss Bowers, my dear. It's eggnog time."

Cornelia is gone.

Her mother said: 'My dear Marie, I am so grateful to you! I think Cornelia suffers a lot from not being successful in society. It is something that makes her ashamed. If I could afford to take her with me .... But you know the situation since Ned died'.

"I am very happy that she is coming with me," said Miss Van Schuyler, "Cornelia has always been a good girl, intelligent, not afraid to run a few errands, not like these selfish young people of today."

Mrs Robson rose to kiss the wrinkled and somewhat yellowed face of her rich relative.

"I will be eternally grateful to you," he said.

On the stairs he met a tall, capable woman carrying a glass with a frothy yellow liquid.

"So, Miss Bowers, are you going to Europe?"

"Oh yes, Mrs Robson."

"What a fantastic trip!"

'Yes, I think it will be very pleasant'.

"But have you been abroad?"

"Oh yes, Mrs Robson, last autumn I was in Paris with Miss Van Schuyler. But I have never been to Egypt."

Mrs Robson hesitated for a moment.

"I hope there are no problems...".

He had lowered his voice.

However, Miss Bowers replied in her usual tone: 'Oh no, Mrs Robson, I'll take care of it. I always keep my eyes wide open."