Mrs Otterbourne paused a minute.
The curtain across the door moved slightly as though lifted by the wind, but none of the three men noticed it.
"I - er -" Mrs Otterbourne paused. Thin ice to skate over here, but it must be done somehow. "I - er - had an arrangement with one of the - er - personnel of the ship. He was to - er - get me something I needed, but I did not wish my daughter to know of it. She is inclined to be tiresome in certain ways -"
Not too good, this, but she could think of something that sounded better before it came to telling the story in court.
Race's eyebrows lifted as his eyes asked a question of Poirot.
Poirot gave an infinitesimal nod. His lips formed the word, "Drink." The curtain across the door moved again. Between it and the door itself something showed with a faint steel blue gleam.
Mrs Otterbourne continued: "The arrangement was that I should go round to the stern on the deck below this, and there I should find the man waiting for me. As I went along the deck a cabin door opened and somebody looked out. It was this girl - Louise Bourget, or whatever her name is. She seemed to be expecting someone. When she saw it was me, she looked disappointed and went abruptly inside again. I didn't think anything of it, of course. I went along just as I had said I would and got the - the stuff from the man. I paid him and - er - just had a word with him. Then I started back. Just as I came around the corner I saw someone knock on the maid's door and go into the cabin."
Race said, "And that person was -"
Bang!
The noise of the explosion filled the cabin. There was an acrid sour smell of smoke. Mrs Otterbourne turned slowly sideways, as though in supreme inquiry, then her body slumped forward and she fell to the ground with a crash. From just behind her ear the blood flowed from a round neat hole.
There was a moment's stupefied silence. Then both the able-bodied men jumped to their feet. The woman's body hindered their movements a little. Race bent over her while Poirot made a catlike jump for the door and the deck.
The deck was empty. On the ground just in front of the sill lay a big Colt revolver.
Poirot glanced in both directions. The deck was empty. He then sprinted toward the stern. As he rounded the corner he ran into Tim Allerton, who was coming full tilt from the opposite direction.
"What the devil was that?" cried Tim breathlessly.
Poirot said sharply, "Did you meet anyone on your way here?"
"Meet anyone? No."
"Then come with me." He took the young man by the arm and retraced his steps. A little crowd had assembled by now. Rosalie, Jacqueline and Cornelia had rushed out of their cabins. More people were coming along the deck from the saloon - Ferguson, Jim Fanthorp and Mrs Allerton.
Race stood by the revolver. Poirot turned his head and said sharply to Tim Allerton, "Got any gloves in your pocket?"
Tim fumbled.
"Yes, I have."
Poirot seized them from him, put them on, and bent to examine the revolver. Race did the same. The others watched breathlessly.
Race said: "He didn't go the other way. Fanthorp and Ferguson were sitting on this deck lounge; they'd have seen him."
Poirot responded, "And Mr Allerton would have met him if he'd gone aft."
Race said, pointing to the revolver: "Rather fancy we've seen this not so very long ago. Must make sure, though."
He knocked on the door of Pennington's cabin. There was no answer. The cabin was empty. Race strode to the right hand drawer of the chest and jerked it open. The revolver was gone.
"Settles that," said Race. "Now then, where's Pennington himself?"
They went out again on deck. Mrs Allerton had joined the group. Poirot moved swiftly over to her.
"Madame, take Miss Otterbourne with you and look after her. Her mother has been -" he consulted Race with an eye and Race nodded - "killed."
Dr Bessner came bustling along.
"Gott im Himmel! What is there now?"
They made way for him. Race indicated the cabin. Bessner went inside.
"Find Pennington," said Race. "Any fingerprints on that revolver?"
"None," said Poirot.
They found Pennington on the deck below. He was sitting in the little drawing-room writing letters. He lifted a handsome, cleanshaven face.
"Anything new?" he asked.
"Didn't you hear a shot?"
"Why - now you mention it - I believe I did hear a kind of a bang. But I never dreamed - Who's been shot?"
"Mrs Otterbourne."
"Mrs Otterbourne?" Pennington sounded quite astounded. "Well, you do surprise me. Mrs Otterbourne." He shook his head. "I can't see that at all." He lowered his voice. "Strikes me, gentlemen, we've got a homicidal maniac aboard. We ought to organize a defence system."
"Mr Pennington," said Race, "how long have you been in this room?"
"Why, let me see." Mr Pennington gently rubbed his chin. "I should say a matter of twenty minutes or so."
"And you haven't left it?"
"Why no - certainly not."
He looked inquiringly at the two men.
"You see, Mr Pennington," said Race, "Mrs Otterbourne was shot with your revolver."
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