Смерть на Ниле / Death on the Nile

Finally, somewhat breathless, Poirot found himself with an assortment of his own, the Allertons’, and some totally unknown luggage in one compartment, while Tim and his mother were elsewhere with the remains of the assorted baggage.

The compartment in which Poirot found himself was occupied by an elderly lady with a very wrinkled face, a stiff white stock, a good many diamonds and an expression of reptilian contempt for the majority of mankind.

She treated Poirot to an aristocratic glare and retired behind the pages of an American magazine.

A big, rather clumsy young woman of under thirty was sitting opposite her. She had eager brown eyes rather like a dog’s, untidy hair, and a terrific air of willingness to please. At intervals the old lady looked over the top of her magazine and snapped an order at her.

‘Cornelia, collect the rugs. When we arrive look after my dressing-case. On no account let anyone else handle it. Don’t forget my paper-cutter.’

The train run was brief. In ten minutes’ time they came to rest on the jetty where the S.

S. Karnak was awaiting them. The Otterbournes were already on board.

The Karnak was a smaller steamer than the Papyrus and the Lotus, the First Cataract steamers, which are too large to pass through the locks of the Aswan dam. The passengers went on board and were shown their accommodation. Since the boat was not full, most of the passengers had accommodation on the promenade deck. The entire forward part of this deck was occupied by an observation saloon, all glass-enclosed, where the passengers could sit and watch the river unfold before them.

On the deck below were a smoking room and a small drawing room and on the deck below that, the dining saloon.

Having seen his possessions disposed in his cabin, Poirot came out on the deck again to watch the process of departure. He joined Rosalie Otterbourne, who was leaning over the side.

‘So now we journey into Nubia. You are pleased, Mademoiselle?’

The girl drew a deep breath.

‘Yes. I feel that one’s really getting away from things at last.’ She made a gesture with her hand. There was a savage aspect about the sheet of water in front of them, the masses of rock without vegetation that came down to the water’s edge – here and there a trace of houses abandoned and ruined as a result of the damming up of the waters. The whole scene had a melancholy, almost sinister charm. ‘Away from people,’ said Rosalie Otterbourne.