"Remember, Miss Otterbourne," said Race, "that Miss Van Schuyler is prepared to swear she saw your face quite clearly in the moonlight."
Rosalie laughed again.
"That old cat?
She's probably half blind anyway.
It wasn't me she saw." She paused. "Can I go now?"
Race nodded and Rosalie Otterbourne left the room.
The eyes of the two men met.
Race lighted a cigarette.
"Well, that's that.
Flat contradiction.
Which of 'em do we believe?"
Poirot shook his head.
"I have a little idea that neither of them was being quite frank."
"That's the worst of our job," said Race despondently. "So many people keep back the truth for positively futile reasons.
What's our next move?
Get on with the questioning of the passengers?"
"I think so.
It is always well to proceed with order and method."
Race nodded.
Mrs Otterbourne, dressed in floating batik material, succeeded her daughter.
She corroborated Rosalie's statement that they had both gone to bed before eleven o'clock.
She herself had heard nothing of interest during the night.
She could not say whether Rosalie had left their cabin or not.
On the subject of the crime she was inclined to hold forth.
"The crime passionnel!" she exclaimed. "The primitive instinct - to kill! So closely allied to the sex instinct.
That girl, Jacqueline, half Latin, hot-blooded, obeying the deepest instincts of her being, stealing forth, revolver in hand -"
"But Jacqueline de Bellefort did not shoot Madame Doyle.
That we know for certain.
It is proved," explained Poirot.
"Her husband, then," said Mrs Otterbourne, rallying from the blow. "The blood lust and the sex instinct - a sexual crime.
There are many well-known instances."
"Mr Doyle was shot through the leg and he was quite unable to move - the bone was fractured," explained Colonel Race. "He spent the night with Dr Bessner."
Mrs Otterbourne was even more disappointed.
She searched her mind hopefully.
"Of course!" she said. "How foolish of me!
Miss Bowers!"
"Miss Bowers?"
"Yes. Naturally.
It's so clear psychologically.
Repression!
The repressed virgin!
Maddened by the sight of these two - a young husband and wife passionately in love with each other.
Of course it was her!
She's just the type - sexually unattractive, innately respectable.
In my book, The Barren Vine -" Colonel Race interposed tactfully:
"Your suggestions have been most helpful, Mrs Otterbourne.
We must get on with our job now.
Thank you so much."
He escorted her gallantly to the door and came back wiping his brow.
"What a poisonous woman!