Kitabı oku: «Death on the Nile / Смерть на Ниле»
© Шитова Л. Ф., адаптация, сокращение, словарь, 2019
© ООО «Издательство «Антология», 2022
Part I
England
Chapter 1
Extract from the Social column of the local newspaper.
Among those having supper at Chez Ma Tante1 I noticed beautiful Linnet Ridgeway. She was with Joanna Southwood, and Lord Windlesham. Miss Ridgeway, as everyone knows, is the daughter of Mr Ridgeway who married Anna Hartz. She inherits from her grandfather, Leopold Hartz, an American millionaire, an immense fortune. The lovely Linnet is the sensation of the moment and they say that an engagement may be announced shortly. Certainly Lord Windlesham seemed very happy!
Chapter 2
Joanna Southwood said: “Darling, I think it's going to be all perfectly marvellous!” She was sitting in Linnet Ridgeway's bedroom at Wode Hall.
From the window of the mansion the eye went to open country with blue shadows of woodlands.
“It's rather perfect, isn't it?” said Linnet.
She leaned her arms on the window sill. Beside her, Joanna Southwood seemed, somehow, a little dim – a tall thin young woman of twenty-seven, with a long clever face.
“And you've done so much in the time! Did you have lots of architects and things?”
“Three.”
Joanna picked up a string of pearls from the dressing-table.
“I suppose these are real, aren't they, Linnet?”
“Of course.”
“Darling, they really are incredible. They must be worth the most fabulous sums!”
“Rather vulgar, you think?”
“No, not at all – just pure beauty. What are they worth?”
“About fifty thousand.”
“What a lovely lot of money! Aren't you afraid of having them stolen?”
“No, I always wear them – and anyway they're insured.”
“Let me wear them till dinner time, will you, darling? It would give me such a thrill.”
Linnet laughed.
“Of course, if you like.”
“You know, Linnet, I really envy you. You've simply got everything. Here you are at twenty, with any amount of money, looks, superb health. You've even got brains! When are you twenty-one?”
“Next June. I shall have a grand coming-of-age2 party in London.”
“And then are you going to marry Charles Windlesham? All the gossip writers are getting so excited about it. And he really is very devoted.” Linnet shrugged her shoulders.3
“I don't know. I don't really want to marry anyone yet.”
“Darling, how right you are! It's never quite the same afterward, is it?”
The telephone called and Linnet went to it.
“Yes? Yes?”
The butler's voice answered her.
“Miss de Bellefort is on the line. Shall I put her through?” “Bellefort? Oh, of course, yes, put her through.”
“Hullo, is that Miss Ridgeway? Linnet!”
“Jackie darling! I haven't heard anything of you for ages and ages!4”
“I know. It's awful. Linnet, I want to see you terribly.”
“Darling, can't you come down here? My new toy. I'd love to show it to you.”
“That's just what I want to do.”
“Well, jump into a train or a car.”
“Right, I will. A frightfully old two-seater. I bought it for fifteen pounds, and some days it goes beautifully. So long, my sweet.5”
Linnet replaced the receiver.6 She crossed back to Joanna.
“That's my oldest friend, Jacqueline de Bellefort. We were together at a convent in Paris. She's had the most terribly bad luck. Her father was a French Count, her mother was American – a Southerner. The father went off with some woman, and her mother lost all her money in the Wall Street crash. Jackie was left absolutely broke. I don't know how she's managed to get along the last two years.”
Joanna was polishing her nails.
“Darling,” she drawled, “won't that be rather tiresome? If any misfortunes happen to my friends I always drop them at once! It sounds heartless, but it saves such a lot of trouble later! They always want to borrow money off you, or else they start a dressmaking business and you have to get the most terrible clothes from them.”
“So if I lost all my money, you'd drop me tomorrow?”
“Yes, darling, I would. You can't say I'm not honest about it! I only like successful people. And you'll find that's true of nearly everybody – only most people won't admit it. They just say that really they can't put up with Mary or Emily or Pamela any more! 'Her troubles have made her so bitter, poor dear!'7”
“How awful you are, Joanna!”
“I'm only on the make,8 like everyone else.”
“I'm not on the make!”
“For obvious reasons! You don't have to be careful when American trustees pay you a vast allowance every quarter.”
“And you're wrong about Jacqueline,” said Linnet. “She's not a sponge.9 I've wanted to help her, but she won't let me. She's as proud as the devil.10”
“Why's she in such a hurry to see you? I'll bet she wants something! You just wait and see.”
“She sounded excited about something,” admitted Linnet. “Jackie always did get frightfully worked up over things.11 She once stuck a penknife into someone!12”
“Darling, how thrilling!”
“A boy who was teasing a dog. Jackie tried to get him to stop. He wouldn't. She pulled him and shook him but he was much stronger than she was, and at last she took out a penknife and put it right into him. There was the most awful row!”
“I should think so. It sounds awful!”
Linnet's maid entered the room. With a word of apology, she took down a dress from the wardrobe and went out of the room with it.
“What's the matter with Marie?” asked Joanna. “She's been crying.”
“Poor thing.13 You know I told you she wanted to marry a man who has a job in Egypt. She didn't know much about him, so I thought I'd better make sure he was all right. It happened that he had a wife already – and three children.”
“What a lot of enemies you must make, Linnet.”
“Enemies?” Linnet looked surprised.
Joanna nodded and helped herself to a cigarette.14
“Enemies, my sweet. And you're so frightfully good at doing the right thing.15”
Linnet laughed.
“Why, I haven't got an enemy in the world!”
Chapter 3
Lord Windlesham sat under the cedar tree. His eyes rested on the graceful proportions of Wode Hall. But he wanted to see Linnet as mistress of Charltonbury, his own family seat – the girl with bright golden hair and a confident face…
He felt very hopeful. That refusal of hers had not been at all a definite refusal. It was like a plea for time. Well, he could afford to wait a little.
How amazingly suitable the whole thing was. It was certainly advisable that he should marry money, but he loved Linnet. He would have wanted to marry her even if she had been practically penniless. Only, fortunately, she was one of the richest girls in England.
His mind played with attractive plans for the future. Charles Windlesham dreamed in the sun.
Chapter 4
It was four o'clock when the old little two-seater stopped in front of the mansion. A girl got out of it – a small slender creature with a mop of dark hair. She ran up the steps and rang the bell. A few minutes later she was brought into the drawing-room, and a butler said with the proper intonation, “Miss de Bellefort.”
“Linnet!”
“Jackie!”
Windlesham stood a little aside, watching as this fiery little creature flung herself open-armed upon Linnet.
“Lord Windlesham – Miss de Bellefort – my best friend.”
A pretty child, he thought – not really pretty but decidedly attractive, with her dark curly hair and her enormous eyes. He murmured a few tactful nothings16 and then left the two friends together.
“Windlesham? Windlesham? That's the man the papers always say you're going to marry! Are you, Linnet? Are you?”
Linnet murmured, “Perhaps.”
“Darling – I'm so glad! He looks nice.”
“Oh, don't make up your mind about it – I haven't made up my own mind yet17.”
“Of course not! Queens are always very careful about the choosing of a consort!”
“Don't be ridiculous, Jackie.”
“But you are a queen, Linnet! You always were.”
“What nonsense you talk, Jackie darling! Where have you been all this time? You just disappear. And you never write.”
“I hate writing letters. Where have I been? In jobs, you know. Grim jobs with grim women!”
“Darling, I wish you'd – ”
“Take the Queen's bounty?18 Well, frankly, darling, that's what I'm here for. No, not to borrow money. But I've come to ask a great big important favour!”
“Go on.”
“If you're going to marry the Windlesham man, you'll understand, perhaps.”
Linnet looked puzzled for a minute; then her face cleared.
“Jackie, do you mean – ”
“Yes, darling, I'm engaged!”
“So that's it! I thought you were looking particularly alive somehow. You always do, of course, but even more than usual.”
“That's just what I feel like.”
“Tell me all about him.”
“His name's Simon Doyle. He's big and square and incredibly simple and boyish and utterly adorable! He's poor – got no money. He's what you call 'county' all right19 – but very impoverished county – a younger son and all that. His people come from Devonshire. He loves country and country things. And for the last five years he's been in the city in a stuffy office. And now they're cutting down and he's out of a job. Linnet, I shall die if I can't marry him! I shall die! I shall die! I shall die.”
“Don't be ridiculous, Jackie.”
“I shall die, I tell you! I'm crazy about him. He's crazy about me. We can't live without each other.”
“Darling, you have got it badly20!”
“I know. It's awful, isn't it? But you can't do anything about it.”
She paused for a minute. “It's – even frightening sometimes! Simon and I were made for each other. I shall never care for anyone else. And you've got to help us, Linnet. I heard you'd bought this place and it put an idea into my head. Listen, you'll have to have a land agent21 – perhaps two. I want you to give the job to Simon.”
“Oh!” Linnet was startled.
Jacqueline went on: “He knows all about estates – was brought up on one. And he's got his business training too. Oh, Linnet, you will give him a job, won't you, for love of me? If he doesn't make good, sack him. But he will. And we can live in a little house, and I shall see lots of you, and everything will be divine.” She got up.
“Say you will, Linnet. Say you will. Beautiful Linnet! Tall golden Linnet! My own very special Linnet! Say you will!”
“Jackie – ”
“You will?”
Linnet burst out laughing.22
“Ridiculous Jackie! Bring along your young man and let me have a look at him and we'll talk it over.”
“Darling Linnet – you're a real friend! I knew you were. You wouldn't let me down – ever. You're just the loveliest thing in the world. Good-bye.”
“But, Jackie, you're staying.”23
“Me? No, I'm not. I'm going back to London, and tomorrow I'll come back and bring Simon and we'll settle it all up. You'll adore him. He really is a pet.”
“But can't you wait and just have tea?”
“No, I can't wait, Linnet. I'm too excited. I must get back and tell Simon. I know I'm mad, darling, but I can't help it. Marriage will cure me, I expect. It always seems to have a very sobering effect on people.24”
She turned at the door, stood a moment, then rushed back for a last quick embrace.
“Dear Linnet – there's no one like you.”
Chapter 5
M. Gaston Blondin, the proprietor of that little restaurant Chez Ma Tante, was not a man who honoured many of his clientele. Only in the rarest cases did M. Blondin greet a guest, accompany him to a privileged table, and exchange with him suitable remarks.
On this night, M. Blondin had greeted a little man of comical appearance with immense black moustaches. He conducted the client to the table in a most favourable position.
“But naturally, for you there is always a table, Monsieur Poirot! How I wish that you would honour us oftener.”
Hercule Poirot smiled,
“You are too amiable, Monsieur Blondin,” he said.
“And you are alone, Monsieur Poirot?”
“Yes, I am alone.”
“Oh, well, our chef here will compose for you a little meal that will be a poem – positively a poem! Women, however charming, have this disadvantage: they distract the mind from food! You will enjoy your dinner, Monsieur Poirot; I promise you that.”
Before departing, M. Blondin lingered a moment, lowering his voice confidentially.
“You have grave affairs on hand?”25
Poirot shook his head.
“I am a man of leisure,” he said sadly. “I have made the economies in my time and I have now the means to enjoy a life of idleness.26”
“I envy you.”
“No, no, you would be unwise to do so. I can assure you, it is not so gay as it sounds.” He sighed. “How true is the saying that man was forced to invent work in order to escape the need to think.”
M. Blondin threw up his hands.27
“But there is so much! There is travel!”
“Yes, there is travel. Already I have done not so badly. This winter I shall visit Egypt, I think. The climate, they say, is superb! One will escape from the fogs, the greyness, the monotony of the constantly falling rain.”
“Ah! Egypt,” sighed M. Blondin.
“One can even voyage there now, I believe, by train, escaping all sea travel except the Channel28.”
Smooth-footed, deft-handed waiters served the table.29
The Negro orchestra broke into an ecstasy of strange noises. London danced.
Hercule Poirot looked on, registering impressions in his mind.
How bored and weary most of the faces were! Some of those stout men, however, were enjoying themselves. The fat woman in purple was looking radiant…
A good number of young people – some bored, some definitely unhappy. How absurd to call youth the time of happiness – youth, the time of greatest vulnerability!
His glance softened as it rested on one particular couple. A well-matched pair – tall broad-shouldered man, slender delicate girl. Two bodies that moved in a perfect rhythm of happiness.
The dance stopped abruptly. Hands clapped and it started again. After a second encore the couple returned to their table close by Poirot. The girl was flushed, laughing. As she sat, he could study her face, laughing to her companion. There was something else beside laughter in her eyes.
Hercule Poirot shook his head doubtfully.
“She cares too much, that little one,” he said to himself.
“It is not safe. No, it is not safe.”
And then a word caught his ear, “Egypt.”
Their voices came to him clearly – the girl's young, fresh, arrogant, with just a trace of foreign R's30, and the man's pleasant, low-toned, well-bred English.
“I'm not counting my chickens before they're hatched31, Simon. I tell you Linnet won't let us down!”
“I might let her down.”
“Nonsense – it's just the right job for you.”
“As a matter of fact I think it is… I haven't really any doubts as to my capability. And I want to make good – for your sake!”
The girl laughed softly, a laugh of pure happiness.
“We'll wait three months – to make sure you don't get the sack – and then we'll go to Egypt for our honeymoon. I've always wanted to go to Egypt all my life. The Nile and the pyramids and the sand.”
He said, his voice slightly indistinct: “We'll see it together, Jackie… together. Won't it be marvellous?”
“I wonder.32 Will it be as marvellous to you as it is to me? Do you really care – as much as I do?”
Her voice was suddenly sharp – almost with fear.
The man's answer came quickly, “Don't be absurd, Jackie.”
Then she shrugged her shoulders.
“Let's dance.”
Hercule Poirot murmured to himself:
“Un qui aime et un qui se laisse aimer.33 Yes, I wonder too.”
Chapter 6
Joanna Southwood said, “And suppose he's a terrible tough?”34
Linnet shook her head. “Oh, he won't be. I can trust Jacqueline's taste.”
Then she changed the subject. “I must go and see Mr Pierce about those plans!”
“Plans?”
“Yes, some dreadful insanitary old cottages. I'm having them pulled down and the people moved.35”
“Do the people who lived in them like going?”
“Most of them are delighted. One or two are being rather stupid about it. They don't seem to realize how vastly improved their living conditions will be!”
Joanna laughed.
“You are a tyrant, admit it. A beneficent tyrant if you like!”
“I'm not the least bit a tyrant.”
“But you like your own way!”
Linnet said sharply, “You think I'm selfish?”
“No – just irresistible. The combined effect of money and charm. Everything goes down before you. What you can't buy with cash you buy with a smile. Result: Linnet Ridgeway, the Girl Who Has Everything.”
“Don't be ridiculous, Joanna!”
As Lord Windlesham joined them, Linnet said, turning to him, “Joanna is saying the nastiest things to me.”
Joanna got up from her seat. She made no apology for leaving them.
He was silent for a minute or two. Then he went straight to the point.36
“Have you come to a decision, Linnet?”
Linnet said slowly: “Am I being a brute? I suppose, if I'm not sure, I ought to say 'No' – ”
He interrupted her.
“Don't say it. You shall have time – as much time as you want. But I think, you know, we should be happy together.”
“You see,” Linnet's tone was apologetic, almost childish, “I'm enjoying myself so much – especially with all this.” She waved a hand. “I wanted to make Wode Hall into my real ideal of a country house, and I do think I've got it nice, don't you?”
“It's beautiful. Beautifully planned. Everything perfect. You're very clever, Linnet.”
He paused a minute and went on: “And you like Charltonbury, don't you? Of course it wants modernizing and all that – but you're so clever at that sort of thing. You'd enjoy it.”
“Why, of course, Charltonbury's divine.”
She spoke with enthusiasm, but inwardly she felt a sudden chill. But why? Charltonbury was modestly famous. Windlesham's ancestors had held it since the time of Elizabeth37. To be mistress of Charltonbury was a position in society. Windlesham was one of the most desirable parties in England.
Naturally he couldn't take Wode seriously… It was not in any way to be compared with Charltonbury.
Ah, but Wode was hers! She had seen it, acquired it, rebuilt and re-dressed it, lavished money on it. It was her own possession – her kingdom.
If she married Windlesham, Wode Hall would be given up.
She, Linnet Ridgeway, wouldn't exist any longer. She would be Countess of Windlesham, not queen any longer.
“I'm being ridiculous,” said Linnet to herself.
But it was curious how she did hate the idea of abandoning Wode.
And wasn't there something else nagging at her?
Jackie's voice with that note in it saying: “I shall die if I can't marry him! I shall die. I shall die.”
So positive, so earnest. Did she, Linnet, feel like that about Windlesham?
Assuredly she didn't. Perhaps she could never feel like that about anyone. It must be – rather wonderful – to feel like that.
The sound of a car came through the open window.
That must be Jackie and her young man. She'd go out and meet them.
She was standing in the open doorway as Jacqueline and Simon Doyle got out of the car.
“Linnet!” Jackie ran to her. “This is Simon. Simon, here's Linnet. She's just the most wonderful person in the world.”
Linnet saw a tall, broad-shouldered young man, with very dark blue eyes, curling brown hair, a square chin and a boyish, simple smile.
She stretched out a hand. The hand that clasped hers was firm and warm. She liked the way he looked at her, the genuine admiration.
Jackie had told him she was wonderful, and he clearly thought that she was wonderful.
A warm sweet feeling of intoxication ran through her veins.
“Isn't this all lovely?” she said. “Come in, Simon, and let me welcome my new land agent properly.”
And as she turned to lead the way she thought: “I'm frightfully – frightfully happy. I like Jackie's young man. I like him enormously. ”
And then with a sudden pang, “Lucky Jackie.”
Chapter 7
Tim Allerton leant back in his wicker chair and yawned as he looked out over the sea. He shot a quick glance at his mother.
Mrs Allerton was a good-looking, white-haired woman of fifty, and she adored her son.
He said, “Do you really like Majorca38, Mother?”
“Well,” Mrs Allerton considered, “it's cheap.”
“And cold,” said Tim with a slight shiver.
He was a tall, thin young man, with dark hair and a rather narrow chest. His eyes were sad and his chin was indecisive. He had long delicate hands.
He was supposed “to write,” but it was understood among his friends that he was not a success.
“What are you thinking of, Tim?”
Mrs Allerton was alert. Her bright, dark-brown eyes looked suspicious. Tim Allerton grinned at her.
“I was thinking of Egypt.”
“Egypt?”
Mrs Allerton sounded doubtful.
“Real warmth, darling. Lazy golden sands. The Nile. I'd like to go up the Nile, wouldn't you?”
“Oh, I'd like it.” Her tone was dry. “But Egypt's expensive, my dear. Not for those who have to count the pennies.”
Tim laughed. He rose, stretched himself. Suddenly he looked alive and eager. There was an excited note in his voice.
“The expense will be my affair.39 Yes, darling. A little flutter on the Stock Exchange.40 With satisfactory results. I heard this morning.”
“This morning?” said Mrs Allerton sharply. “You only had one letter and that – ” She stopped and bit her lip.
“And that was from Joanna,” he finished coolly. “Quite right, Mother. What a Queen of detectives you'd make! The famous Hercule Poirot would have to be careful if you were about.”
Mrs Allerton looked rather cross.41
“I just happened to see the handwriting – ”
“And knew it wasn't that of a stockbroker? Quite right. As a matter of fact it was yesterday I heard from them. Poor Joanna's handwriting is rather noticeable.”
“What does Joanna say? Any news?”
Mrs Allerton tried to make her voice sound casual and ordinary. The friendship between her son and his second cousin, Joanna Southwood, always irritated her. Not that there was “anything in it.” She was quite sure there wasn't. Tim had never manifested a sentimental interest in Joanna, nor she in him. They both liked people and discussing people. Joanna had an amusing though caustic tongue.
It was some feeling hard to define – perhaps jealousy in the pleasure Tim which always seemed to take in Joanna's society. He and his mother were such perfect companions that the sight of him interested in another woman always worried Mrs Allerton. She fancied, too, that her presence on these occasions set some barrier between the two members of the younger generation, when at sight of her, their talk had changed. Quite definitely, Mrs Allerton did not like Joanna Southwood. She thought her insincere, affected and superficial.
In answer to her question, Tim pulled the letter out of his pocket and glanced through it. It was quite a long letter, his mother noted.
“Nothing much,” he said. “The Devenishes are getting a divorce. Windlesham's gone to Canada. Seems he was pretty badly hit when Linnet Ridgeway turned him down42. She's definitely going to marry this land agent person.”
“How extraordinary! Is he very dreadful?”
“No, no, not at all. He's one of the Devonshire Doyles. No money, of course – and he was actually engaged to one of Linnet's best friends. Pretty thick, that.43”
“I don't think it's at all nice,” said Mrs Allerton.
Tim gave her a quick affectionate glance.
“I know, darling. You don't approve of snapping other people's husbands and all that sort of thing.”
“In my day we had our standards,” said Mrs Allerton. “Nowadays young people seem to think they can just go about doing anything they choose.”
Tim smiled.
“They don't only think it. They do it. Look at Linnet Ridgeway!”
“Well, I think it's horrid!”
Tim twinkled at her.
“Cheer up, you old die-hard44! Perhaps I agree with you. Anyway, I haven't helped myself to anyone's wife or fiancee yet.45”
“I'm sure you'd never do such a thing,” said Mrs Allerton. She added, “I've brought you up properly.”
He smiled teasingly at her as he folded the letter and put it away again.
Mrs Allerton let the thought just flash across her mind: “Most letters he shows to me. He only reads me snippets from Joanna's.”
But she put the thought away from her, and decided, as ever, to behave like a gentlewoman.
“Is Joanna enjoying life?” she asked.
“So so. Says she thinks of opening a delicatessen shop in Mayfair.”
“She always talks about being hard up46,” said Mrs Allerton, “but she goes about everywhere and her clothes must cost her a lot. She's always beautifully dressed.”
“Ah, well,” said Tim, “she probably doesn't pay for them.
I just mean quite literally that she leaves her bills unpaid.”
Mrs Allerton sighed.
“I never know how people manage to do that.”
“It's a kind of special gift,” said Tim. “If only you have sufficiently extravagant tastes, and absolutely no sense of money values, people will give you any amount of credit.”
“Yes, but you come to the Bankruptcy Court47 in the end.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Anyway, I'm for excitement and novelty. The joy of never knowing what may turn up from day to day. And the pleasure of making money for yourself – by your own brains and skill.”
“A successful deal on the Stock Exchange48 in fact!”
He laughed. “Why not?”
“And what about an equal loss on the Stock Exchange?”
“That, dear, is rather tactless. And quite inappropriate today. What about this Egypt plan?”
“Well – ”
He cut in, smiling at her: “That's settled. We've both always wanted to see Egypt.”
“When do you suggest?”
“Oh, next month. January's about the best time there. We'll enjoy the delightful society in this hotel a few weeks longer.”
Mrs Allerton sighed and said, “I wish there were a few more young people for you here.”
Tim Allerton shook his head decidedly.
“I don't. You and I get along rather comfortably without outside distractions.”
“You'd like it if Joanna were here.”
“I wouldn't.” His tone was unexpectedly resolute. “You're all wrong there. Joanna amuses me, but I don't really like her, and to have her around much gets on my nerves. I'm thankful she isn't here.”
He added, almost below his breath, “There's only one woman in the world I've got a real respect and admiration for, and I think, Mrs Allerton, you know very well who that woman is.”
His mother blushed and looked quite confused.
Tim said gravely: “ There aren't very many really nice women in the world. You happen to be one of them.”
