Most people, I think.
Quite a crowd, anyway." He shook his head gently. "Why, yes," he said. "I am certainly to blame there." He went on: "First Linnet, then Linnet's maid, and now Mrs Otterbourne. There seems no reason in it all!"
"There was reason," said Race.
"There was?"
"Yes.
Mrs Otterbourne was on the point of telling us that she had seen a certain person go into Louise's cabin.
Before she could name that person she was shot dead."
Andrew Pennington passed a fine silk handkerchief over his brow.
"All this is terrible," he murmured.
Poirot said: "Monsieur Pennington, I would like to discuss certain aspects of the case with you.
Will you come to my cabin in half an hour's time?"
"I should be delighted."
Pennington did not sound delighted. He did not look delighted either.
Race and Poirot exchanged glances and then abruptly left the room.
"Cunning old devil," said Race, "but he's afraid. Eh?"
Poirot nodded.
"Yes, he is not happy, our Monsieur Pennington."
As they reached the promenade deck again, Mrs Allerton came out of her cabin and, seeing Poirot, beckoned him imperiously.
"Madame?"
"That poor child!
Tell me, Monsieur Poirot, is there a double cabin somewhere that I could share with her?
She oughtn't to go back to the one she shared with her mother, and mine is only a single one."
"That can be arranged, Madame.
It is very good of you."
"It's mere decency. Besides, I'm very fond of the girl.
I've always liked her."
"Is she very upset?"
"Terribly.
She seems to have been absolutely devoted to that odious woman.
That is what is so pathetic about it all.
Tim says he believes she drank.
Is that true?"
Poirot nodded.
"Oh, well, poor woman, one mustn't judge her, I suppose; but that girl must have had a terrible life."
"She did, Madame.
She is very proud and she was very loyal."
"Yes, I like that - loyalty, I mean.
It's out of fashion nowadays.
She's an odd character, that girl - proud, reserved, stubborn, and terribly warm-hearted underneath, I fancy."
"I see that I have given her into good hands, Madame."
"Yes, don't worry.
I'll look after her.
She's inclined to cling to me in the most pathetic fashion."
Mrs Allerton went back into the cabin.
Poirot returned to the scene of the tragedy.
Cornelia was still standing on the deck, her eyes wide.
She said:
"I don't understand, Monsieur Poirot. How did the person who shot her get away without our seeing him?"
"Yes, how?" echoed Jacqueline.
"Ah," said Poirot, "it was not quite such a disappearing trick as you think, Mademoiselle.