Chapter 24
Mr Pennington was shocked.
"Why, gentlemen," he said, "this is a very serious matter. Very serious indeed."
"Extremely serious for you, Mr Pennington."
"For me?" Pennington's eyebrows rose in startled surprise. "But, my dear sir, I was sitting quietly writing in here when that shot was fired."
"You have, perhaps, a witness to prove that?"
Pennington shook his head.
"Why, no - I wouldn't say that. But it's clearly impossible that I should have gone to the deck above, shot this poor woman (and why should I shoot her anyway?) and come down again with no one seeing me. There are always plenty of people on the deck lounge this time of day."
"How do you account for your pistol being used?"
"Well - I'm afraid I may be to blame there. Quite soon after getting aboard there was a conversation in the saloon one evening, I remember, about firearms, and I mentioned then that I always carried a revolver with me when I travel."
"Who was there?"
"Well, I can't remember exactly. Most people, I think. Quite a crowd, anyway." He shook his head gently.
"Why, yes," he said. "I am certainly to blame there."
He went on: "First Linnet, then Linnet's maid, and now Mrs Otterbourne. There seems no reason in it all!"
"There was reason," said Race.
"There was?"
"Yes. Mrs Otterbourne was on the point of telling us that she had seen a certain person go into Louise's cabin. Before she could name that person she was shot dead."
Andrew Pennington passed a fine silk handkerchief over his brow.
"All this is terrible," he murmured.
Poirot said: "Monsieur Pennington, I would like to discuss certain aspects of the case with you. Will you come to my cabin in half an hour's time?"
"I should be delighted."
Pennington did not sound delighted. He did not look delighted either. Race and Poirot exchanged glances and then abruptly left the room.
"Cunning old devil," said Race, "but he's afraid. Eh?"
Poirot nodded. "Yes, he is not happy, our Monsieur Pennington."
As they reached the promenade deck again, Mrs Allerton came out of her cabin and, seeing Poirot, beckoned him imperiously.
"Madame?"
"That poor child! Tell me, Monsieur Poirot, is there a double cabin somewhere that I could share with her? She oughtn't to go back to the one she shared with her mother, and mine is only a single one."
"That can be arranged, Madame. It is very good of you."
"It's mere decency. Besides, I'm very fond of the girl. I've always liked her."
"Is she very upset?"
"Terribly. She seems to have been absolutely devoted to that odious woman. That is what is so pathetic about it all. Tim says he believes she drank. Is that true?"
Poirot nodded.
"Oh, well, poor woman, one mustn't judge her, I suppose; but that girl must have had a terrible life."
"She did, Madame. She is very proud and she was very loyal."
"Yes, I like that - loyalty, I mean. It's out of fashion nowadays. She's an odd character, that girl - proud, reserved, stubborn, and terribly warm-hearted underneath, I fancy."
"I see that I have given her into good hands, Madame."
"Yes, don't worry. I'll look after her. She's inclined to cling to me in the most pathetic fashion."
Mrs Allerton went back into the cabin. Poirot returned to the scene of the tragedy.
Cornelia was still standing on the deck, her eyes wide. She said: "I don't understand, Monsieur Poirot. How did the person who shot her get away without our seeing him?"
"Yes, how?" echoed Jacqueline.
"Ah," said Poirot, "it was not quite such a disappearing trick as you think, Mademoiselle. There were three distinct ways the murderer might have gone."
Jacqueline looked puzzled. She said, "Three?"
"He might have gone to the right, or he might have gone to the left, but I don't see any other way," puzzled Cornelia.
Jacqueline too frowned. Then her brow cleared.
She said: "Of course. He could move in two directions on one plane, but he could go at right angles to that plane too. That is, he couldn't go up very well, but he could go down."
Poirot smiled. "You have brains, Mademoiselle."
Cornelia said, "I know I'm just a plain mutt, but I still don't see."
Jacqueline said, "Monsieur Poirot means, darling, that he could swing himself over the rail and down onto the deck below."
"My!" gasped Cornelia. "I never thought of that. He'd have to be mighty quick about it, though. I suppose he could just do it?"
"He could do it easily enough," said Tim Allerton. "Remember, there's always a minute of shock after a thing like this. One hears a shot and one's too paralysed to move for a second or two."
"That was your experience, Monsieur Allerton?"
"Yes, it was. I just stood like a dummy for quite five seconds. Then I fairly sprinted round the deck."
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