"Get anything?" asked Race.
Poirot replied by a French proverb, "On ne prend pas les mouches avec le vinaigre."
Then he said with a sigh: "My friend, we have not been fortunate.
The murderer has not been obliging.
He has not dropped for us the cuff link, the cigarette end, the cigar ash - or, in the case of a woman, the handkerchief, the lipstick or the hair slide."
"Only the bottle of nail polish?"
Poirot shrugged his shoulders.
"I must ask the maid.
There is something - yes - a little curious there."
"I wonder where the devil the girl's got to?" said Race.
They left the cabin, locking the door behind them, and passed on to that of Miss Van Schuyler.
Here again were all the appurtenances of wealth, expensive toilet fittings, good luggage, a certain number of private letters and papers all perfectly in order.
The next cabin was the double one occupied by Poirot, and beyond it that of Race.
"Hardly likely to hide 'em in either of these," said the Colonel.
Poirot demurred.
"It might be.
Once, on the Orient Express, I investigated a murder.
There was a little matter of a scarlet kimono.
It had disappeared, and yet it must be on the train.
I found it - where do you think? In my own locked suitcase!
Ah! it was an impertinence, that!"
"Well, let's see if anybody has been impertinent with you or me this time."
But the thief of the pearls had not been impertinent with Hercule Poirot or with Colonel Race.
Rounding the stern they made a very careful search of Miss Bowers' cabin but could find nothing of a suspicious nature.
Her handkerchiefs were of plain linen with an initial.
The Otterbournes' cabin came next.
Here, again, Poirot made a very meticulous search, but with no result.
The next cabin was Bessner's.
Simon Doyle lay with an untasted tray of food beside him.
"Off my feed," he said apologetically.
He was looking feverish and very much worse than earlier in the day.
Poirot appreciated Bessner's anxiety to get him as swiftly as possible to hospital and skilled appliances.
The little Belgian explained what the two of them were doing, and Simon nodded approval.
On learning that the pearls had been restored by Miss Bowers, but proved to be merely imitation, he expressed the most complete astonishment.
"You are quite sure, Monsieur Doyle, that your wife did not have an imitation string which she brought abroad with her instead of the real ones?"
Simon shook his head decisively.
"Oh, no. I'm quite sure of that.
Linnet loved those pearls and she wore 'em everywhere.
They were insured against every possible risk, so I think that made her a bit careless."
"Then we must continue our search."
He started opening drawers.
Race attacked a suitcase.
Simon stared.
"Look here, you surely don't suspect old Bessner pinched them?"
Poirot shrugged his shoulders.
"It might be so.
After all, what do we know of Dr Bessner?
Only what he himself gives out."
"But he couldn't have hidden them here - I'd seen him."
"He could not have hidden anything today without your having seen him. But we do not know when the substitution took place.