‘That is what you think – yes.’
‘I know it. He loved me – he will always love me.’
Poirot said:
‘Even now?’
A quick answer seemed to rise to her lips, then be stifled. She looked at Poirot and a deep burning colour spread over her face. She looked away, her head dropped down. She said in a low stifled voice:
‘Yes, I know. He hates me now. Yes, hates me… He’d better be careful.’
With a quick gesture she fumbled in a little silk bag that lay on the seat. Then she held out her hand. On the palm of it was a small pearl-handled pistol – a dainty toy it looked.
‘Nice little thing, isn’t it? she said. ‘Looks too foolish to be real, but it is real! One of those bullets would kill a man or a woman. And I’m a good shot.’ She smiled a faraway, reminiscent smile. ‘When I went home as a child with my mother to South Carolina, my grandfather taught me to shoot. He was the old-fashioned kind that believes in shooting – especially where honour is concerned. My father, too, he fought several duels as a young man. He was a good swordsman. He killed a man once. That was over a woman. So you see, Monsieur Poirot’-she met his eyes squarely-‘I’ve hot blood in me! I bought this when it first happened. I meant to kill one or other of them – the trouble was I couldn’t decide which. Both of them would have been unsatisfactory. If I’d thought Linnet would have looked afraid – but she’s got plenty of physical courage. She can stand up to physical action. And then I thought I’d – wait! That appealed to me more and more. After all, I could do it any time; it would be more fun to wait and – think about it! And then this idea came to my mind – to follow them! Whenever they arrived at some faraway spot and were together and happy, they should see – me! And it worked! It got Linnet badly – in a way nothing else could have done! It got right under her skin… That was when I began to enjoy myself… And there’s nothing she can do about it! I’m always perfectly pleasant and polite! There’s not a word they can take hold of! It’s poisoning everything – everything – for them.’
Her laugh rang out, clear and silvery.
Poirot grasped her arm.
‘Be quiet. Quiet, I tell you.’
Jacqueline looked at him.
‘Well?’ she said. Her smile was definitely challenging.
‘Mademoiselle, I beseech you, do not do what you are doing.’