Problem at Sea by Agatha Christie

Author:Agatha Christie [Christie, Agatha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Goodreads: 17824606
Publisher: Witness Impulse
Published: 2013-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

IV

The news went like wildfire round the ship. With horrified incredulity people heard that Mrs Clapperton had been found dead in her bunk—a native dagger driven through her heart. A string of amber beads was found on the floor of her cabin.

Rumour succeeded rumour. All bead sellers who had been allowed on board that day were being rounded up and questioned! A large sum in cash had disappeared from a drawer in the cabin! The notes had been traced! They had not been traced! Jewellery worth a fortune had been taken! No jewellery had been taken at all! A steward had been arrested and had confessed to the murder!

‘What is the truth of it all?’ demanded Miss Ellie Henderson waylaying Poirot. Her face was pale and troubled.

‘My dear lady, how should I know?’

‘Of course you know,’ said Miss Henderson.

It was late in the evening. Most people had retired to their cabins. Miss Henderson led Poirot to a couple of deck chairs on the sheltered side of the ship. ‘Now tell me,’ she commanded.

Poirot surveyed her thoughtfully. ‘It’s an interesting case,’ he said.

‘Is it true that she had some very valuable jewellery stolen?’

Poirot shook his head. ‘No. No jewellery was taken. A small amount of loose cash that was in a drawer has disappeared, though.’

‘I’ll never feel safe on a ship again,’ said Miss Henderson with a shiver. ‘Any clue as to which of those coffee-coloured brutes did it?’

‘No,’ said Hercule Poirot. ‘The whole thing is rather—strange.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Ellie sharply.

Poirot spread out his hands. ‘Eh bien—take the facts. Mrs Clapperton had been dead at least five hours when she was found. Some money had disappeared. A string of beads was on the floor by her bed. The door was locked and the key was missing. The window—window, not port-hole—gives on the deck and was open.’

‘Well?’ asked the woman impatiently.

‘Do you not think it is curious for a murder to be committed under those particular circumstances? Remember that the postcard sellers, money changers and bead sellers who are allowed on board are all well known to the police.’

‘The stewards usually lock your cabin, all the same,’ Ellie pointed out.

‘Yes, to prevent any chance of petty pilfering. But this—was murder.’

‘What exactly are you thinking of, M. Poirot?’ Her voice sounded a little breathless.

‘I am thinking of the locked door.’

Miss Henderson considered this. ‘I don’t see anything in that. The man left by the door, locked it and took the key with him so as to avoid having the murder discovered too soon. Quite intelligent of him, for it wasn’t discovered until four o’clock in the afternoon.’

‘No, no, mademoiselle, you don’t appreciate the point I’m trying to make. I’m not worried as to how he got out, but as to how he got in.’

‘The window of course.’

‘C’est possible. But it would be a very narrow fit—and there were people passing up and down the deck all the time, remember.’

‘Then through the door,’ said Miss Henderson impatiently.

‘But you forget, mademoiselle. Mrs Clapperton had locked the door on the inside.

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