And then, of course, poor Mr Doyle ought to have been kept absolutely quiet today.
He's had far too much worry and excitement.
No wonder his temperature is rising.
What with the shock of his wife's death, and one thing and another -" Jacqueline relinquished her grasp of the nurse's arm and turned away.
She stood leaning over the side, her back to the other two.
"What I say is, we've got to hope for the best always," said Miss Bowers. "Of course Mr Doyle has a very strong constitution - one can see that - probably never had a day's illness in his life.
So that's in his favour.
But there's no denying that this rise in temperature is a nasty sign and -" She shook her head, adjusted her cuffs once more, and moved briskly away.
Jacqueline turned and walked gropingly, blinded by tears, toward her cabin.
A hand below her elbow steadied and guided her.
She looked up through the tears to find Poirot by her side.
She leaned on him a little and he guided her through the cabin door.
She sank down on the bed and the tears came more freely, punctuated by great shuddering sobs.
"He'll die!
He'll die!
I know he'll die... And I shall have killed him.
Yes, I shall have killed him..."
Poirot shrugged his shoulders.
He shook his head a little, sadly.
"Mademoiselle, what is done, is done.
One cannot take back the accomplished action.
It is too late to regret."
She cried out more vehemently:
"I shall have killed him!
And I love him so... I love him so."
Poirot sighed.
"Too much..."
It had been his thought long ago in the restaurant of M. Blondin. It was his thought again now.
He said, hesitating a little:
"Do not, at all events, go by what Miss Bowers says.
Hospital nurses, me, I find them always gloomy!
The night nurse, always, she is astonished to find her patient alive in the evening; the day nurse, always, she is surprised to find him alive in the morning!
They know too much, you see, of the possibilities that may arise.
When one is motoring one might easily say to oneself,
'If a car came out from that crossroad - or if that lorry backed suddenly - or if the wheel came off the car that is approaching me - or if a dog jumped off the hedge onto my driving arm - eh bien, I should probably be killed!'
But one assumes, and usually rightly, that none of these things will happen, and that one will get to one's journey's end.
But if, of course, one has been in an accident, or seen one or more accidents, then one is inclined to take the opposite point of view."
Jacqueline asked, half smiling through her tears,
"Are you trying to console me, Monsieur Poirot?"
"The Bon Dieu knows what I am trying to do!
You should not have come on this journey."
"No - I wish I hadn't.
It's been - so awful.
But - it will be soon over now."
"Mais oui - mais oui."
"And Simon will go to the hospital, and they'll give the proper treatment and everything will be all right."
"You speak like the child!
'And they lived happily ever afterward.' That is it, is it not?"
She flushed suddenly scarlet.
"Monsieur Poirot, I never meant - never -"