"You considered that Mrs Doyle had interfered between you and a young woman."
"I know who told you that - that lying French hussy. She's a liar through and through, that girl."
"But this particular story happens to be true."
"It's a dirty lie!"
"You say that, although you don't know what it is yet."
The shot told. The man flushed and gulped.
"It is true, is it not, that you were going to marry the girl Marie, and that she broke it off when she discovered that you were a married man already?"
"What business was it of hers?"
"You mean, what business was it of Mrs Doyle's? Well, you know, bigamy is bigamy."
"It wasn't like that. I married one of the locals out here. It didn't answer. She went back to her people. I've not seen her for half a dozen years."
"Still you were married to her."
The man was silent. Race went on:
"Mrs Doyle, or Miss Ridgeway as she then was, found out all this?"
"Yes, she did, curse her! Nosing about where no one ever asked her to. I'd have treated Marie right. I'd have done anything for her. And she'd never have known about the other, if it hadn't been for that meddlesome young lady of hers. Yes, I'll say it, I did have a grudge against the lady, and I felt bitter about it when I saw her on this boat, all dressed up in pearls and diamonds and lording it all over the place, with never a thought that she'd broken up a man's life for him! I felt bitter all right, but if you think I'm a dirty murderer - if you think I went and shot her with a gun, well, that's a damned lie! I never touched her. And that's God's truth." He stopped. The sweat was rolling down his face.
"Where were you last night between the hours of twelve and two?"
"In my bunk asleep - and my mate will tell you so."
"We shall see," said Race. He dismissed him with a curt nod. "That'll do."
"Eh bien?" inquired Poirot as the door closed behind Fleetwood.
Race shrugged his shoulders. "He tells quite a straight story. He's nervous, of course, but not unduly so. We'll have to investigate his alibi - though I don't suppose it will be decisive. His mate was probably asleep, and this fellow could have slipped in and out if he wanted to. It depends whether anyone else saw him."
"Yes, one must inquire as to that."
"The next thing, I think," said Race, "is whether anyone heard anything which might give us a clue to the time of the crime. Bessner places it as having occurred between twelve and two. It seems reasonable to hope that someone among the passengers may have heard the shot - even if they did not recognize it for what it was. I didn't hear anything of the kind myself. What about you?"
Poirot shook his head.
"Me, I slept absolutely like the log. I heard nothing - but nothing at all. I might have been drugged, I slept so soundly."
"A pity," said Race. "Well, let's hope we have a bit of luck with the people who have cabins on the starboard side. Fanthorp we've done. The Allertons come next. I'll send the steward to fetch them."
Mrs Allerton came in briskly. She was wearing a soft grey striped silk dress. Her face looked distressed.
"It's too horrible," she said as she accepted the chair that Poirot placed for her. "I can hardly believe it. That lovely creature, with everything to live for - dead. I almost feel I can't believe it."
"I know how you feel, Madame," said Poirot sympathetically.
"I'm glad you are on board," said Mrs Allerton simply. "You'll be able to find out who did it. I'm so glad it isn't that poor tragic girl."
"You mean Mademoiselle de Bellefort. Who told you she did not do it?"
"Cornelia Robson," replied Mrs Allerton, with a faint smile. "You know, she's simply thrilled by it all. It's probably the only exciting thing that has ever happened to her, and probably the only exciting thing that ever will happen to her. But she's so nice that she's terribly ashamed of enjoying it. She thinks it's awful of her."
Mrs Allerton gave a look at Poirot and then added: "But I mustn't chatter. You want to ask me questions."
"If you please. You went to bed at what time, Madame?"
"Just after half past ten."
"And you went to sleep at once?"
"Yes. I was sleepy."
"And did you hear anything - anything at all - during the night?"
Mrs Allerton wrinkled her brows.
"Yes, I think I heard a splash and someone running - or was it the other way about? I'm rather hazy. I just had a vague idea that someone had fallen overboard at sea - a dream, you know - and then I woke up and listened, but it was all quite quiet."
"Do you know what time that was?"
"No, I'm afraid I don't. But I don't think it was very long after I went to sleep. I mean it was within the first hour or so."
"Alas, Madame, that is not very definite."
"No, I know it isn't. But it's no good my trying to guess, is it, when I haven't really the vaguest idea?"
"And that is all you can tell us, Madame?"
"I'm afraid so."
"Had you ever actually met Madame Doyle before?"
"No, Tim had met her. And I'd heard a good deal about her through a cousin of ours, Joanna Southwood, but I'd never spoken to her till we met at Assuan."
"I have one other question, Madame, if you will pardon me for asking."
Mrs Allerton murmured with a faint smile, "I should love to be asked an indiscreet question."
"It is this. Did you, or your family, ever suffer any financial loss through the operations of Madame Doyle's father, Melhuish Ridgeway?"
Mrs Allerton looked thoroughly astonished.
