"I always read everything through," said Linnet. "Father taught me to do that.
He said there might be some clerical error."
Pennington laughed rather harshly.
"You're a grand woman of business, Linnet."
"She's much more conscientious than I'd be," said Simon, laughing. "I've never read a legal document in my life.
I sign where they tell me to sign on the dotted line - and that's that."
"That's frightfully slipshod," said Linnet disapprovingly.
"I've no business head," declared Simon cheerfully. "Never had.
A fellow tells me to sign - I sign.
It's much the simplest way."
Andrew Pennington was looking at him thoughtfully. He said drily, stroking his upper lip,
"A little risky sometimes, Doyle?"
"Nonsense," replied Simon. "I'm not one of those people who believe the whole world is out to do one down.
I'm a trusting kind of fellow - and it pays, you know.
I've hardly ever been let down."
Suddenly, to everyone's surprise, the silent Mr Fanthorp swung round and addressed Linnet.
"I hope I'm not butting in, but you must let me say how much I admire your businesslike capacity.
In my profession - er - I am a lawyer - I find ladies sadly unbusinesslike.
Never to sign a document before you read it through is admirable - altogether admirable."
He gave a little bow.
Then, rather red in the face, he turned once more to contemplate the banks of the Nile.
Linnet said rather uncertainly, "Er - thank you." She bit her lip to repress a giggle.
The young man had looked so preternaturally solemn. Andrew Pennington looked seriously annoyed.
Simon Doyle looked uncertain whether to be annoyed or amused.
The backs of Mr Fanthorp's ears were bright crimson.
"Next, please," said Linnet, smiling up at Pennington.
But Pennington was looking decidedly ruffled.
"I think perhaps some other time would be better," he said stiffly. "As - er - Doyle says, if you have to read through all these we shall be here till lunch time.
We mustn't miss enjoying the scenery.
Anyway those first two papers were the only urgent ones.
We'll settle down to business later."
"It's frightfully hot in here," Linnet said. "Let's go outside."
The three of them passed through the swing door.
Hercule Poirot turned his head. His gaze rested thoughtfully on Mr Fanthorp's back; then it shifted to the lounging figure of Mr Ferguson who had his head thrown back and was still whistling softly to himself.
Finally Poirot looked over at the upright figure of Miss Van Schuyler in her corner.
Miss Van Schuyler was glaring at Mr Ferguson.
The swing door on the port side opened and Cornelia Robson hurried in.
"You've been a long time," snapped the old lady. "Where've you been?"
"I'm so sorry, Cousin Marie.
The wool wasn't where you said it was.
It was in another case altogether -"
"My dear child, you are perfectly hopeless at finding anything!
You are willing, I know, my dear, but you must try to be a little cleverer and quicker.
It only needs concentration."
"I'm so sorry, Cousin Marie. I'm afraid I am very stupid."
"Nobody need be stupid if they try, my dear.
I have brought you on this trip, and I expect a little attention in return."
Cornelia flushed.
"I'm very sorry, Cousin Marie."
"And where is Miss Bowers?