Смерть на Ниле / Death on the Nile
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‘I’d just love to, Cousin Marie,’ said Cornelia eagerly.
‘Well, well, then that’s settled,’ said Miss Van Schuyler. ‘Just run and find Miss Bowers, my dear. It’s time for my eggnog.’
Cornelia departed. Her mother said:
‘My dear Marie, I’m really most grateful to you! You know I think Cornelia suffers a lot from not being a social success. It makes her feel kind of mortified. If I could afford to take her to places – but you know how it’s been since Ned died.’
‘I’m very glad to take her,’ said Miss Van Schuyler. ‘Cornelia has always been a nice handy girl, willing to run errands, and not so selfish as some of these young people nowadays.’
Mrs Robson rose and kissed her rich relative’s wrinkled and slightly yellow face.
‘I’m just ever so grateful,’ she declared.
On the stairs she met a tall capable-looking woman who was carrying a glass containing a yellow foamy liquid.
‘Well, Miss Bowers, so you’re off to Europe?’
‘Why, yes, Mrs Robson.’
‘What a lovely trip!’
‘Why, yes, I should think it would be very enjoyable.’
‘But you’ve been abroad before?’
‘Oh, yes, Mrs Robson. I went over to Paris with Miss Van Schuyler last fall. But I’ve never been to Egypt before.’
Mrs Robson hesitated.
‘I do hope – there won’t be any – trouble.’
She had lowered her voice. Miss Bowers, however, replied in her usual tone:
‘Oh, no, Mrs Robson; I shall take good care of that. I keep a very sharp look-out always.’
But there was still a faint shadow on Mrs Robson’s face as she slowly continued down the stairs.
Chapter 10
In his office downtown Mr Andrew Pennington was opening his personal mail. Suddenly his fist clenched itself and came down on his desk with a bang; his face crimsoned and two big veins stood out on his forehead. He pressed a buzzer on his desk and a smart-looking stenographer appeared with commendable promptitude.
‘Tell Mr Rockford to step in here.’
‘Yes, Mr Pennington.’
A few minutes later, Sterndale Rockford, Pennington’s partner, entered the office. The two men were not unlike – both tall, spare, with greying hair and cleanshaven clever faces.
‘What’s up, Pennington?’
Pennington looked up from the letter he was rereading. He said:
‘Linnet’s married…’
‘What?’
‘You heard what I said! Linnet Ridgeway’s married!’
‘How? When? Why didn’t we hear about it?’
Pennington glanced at the calendar on his desk.
‘She wasn’t married when she wrote this letter, but she’s married now. Morning of the fourth. That’s today.’
Rockford dropped into a chair.
‘Whew! No warning! Nothing? Who’s the man?’
Pennington referred again to the letter.
‘Doyle. Simon Doyle.’
‘What sort of a fellow is he? Ever heard of him?’
‘No. She doesn’t say much…’ He scanned the lines of clear, upright hand writing. ‘Got an idea there’s something hole-and-corner about this business… That doesn’t matter. The whole point is, she’s married.’
The eyes of the two men met. Rockford nodded.
‘This needs a bit of thinking out,’ he said quietly.
‘What are we going to do about it?’
‘I’m asking you.’
The two men sat silent. Then Rockford said:
‘Got any plan?’
Pennington said slowly:
‘The Normandie sails today. One of us could just make it.’
‘You’re crazy! What’s the big idea?’
Pennington began: ‘Those Britisher lawyers-’ and stopped.
‘What about ’em. Surely you’re not going over to tackle ’em? You’re mad!’
‘I’m not suggesting that you – or I – should go to England.’
‘What’s the big idea, then?’
Pennington smoothed out the letter on the table.
‘Linnet’s going to Egypt for her honeymoon. Expects to be there a month or more…’
‘Egypt – eh?’ Rockford considered. Then he looked up and met the other’s glance. ‘Egypt,’ he said; ‘that’s your idea!’
‘Yes – a chance meeting. Over on a trip. Linnet and her husband – honeymoon atmosphere. It might be done.’
Rockford said doubtfully:
‘She’s sharp, Linnet is… but-’
Pennington said softly: ‘I think there might be ways of – managing it.’
Again their eyes met. Rockford nodded.
‘All right, big boy.’
Pennington looked at the clock.
‘We’ll have to hustle – whichever of us is going.’
‘You go,’ said Rockford promptly. ‘You always made a hit with Linnet. “Uncle Andrew.” That’s the ticket!’
Pennington’s face had hardened.
He said: ‘I hope I can pull it off.’
His partner said:
‘You’ve got to pull it off. ‘The situation’s critical…’
Chapter 11
William Carmichael said to the thin, weedy youth who opened the door inquiringly:
‘Send Mr Jim to me, please.’
Jim Fanthorp entered the room and looked inquiringly at his uncle. The older man looked up with a nod and a grunt.
‘Humph, there you are.’
‘You asked for me?’
‘Just cast an eye over this.’