All language subtitles for Hercule poirot s09e03-mac

[ Thunder crashing ]

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RLJ Entertainment

[ Bed creaking ]

[ Sighs ]

Sorry.

It's all right, my darling.

I just can't believe
they'd do this.

I know. I know.

Everything I touch...

You mustn't think like that.

We have each other,

our whole lives
to look forward to.

I'm broke, Jackie.

What sort of a future is that?

Well, I have some put by

that will see us through
for a little while.

And I'll think of something.
I promise.

I promise you, my darling.

We love each other,

and that's all that matters,
yes?

♪ Mad about the boy ♪

♪ I know it's stupid
to be mad about the boy ♪

♪ I'm so ashamed of it
but must admit... ♪

She's had
the most terrible luck.

When we were at school
together in Paris,

her father ran off
with some woman,

and then her mother lost
all her money in the crash.

Jackie was left
absolutely penniless.

I don't know how she's managed
these past few years.

Oh, she wants something, I bet.

I've offered to help,
but she won't hear of it.

Isn't it awful when one's
friends fall on hard times?

One simply has to drop them.

She sounded very excited,
but then, she always does.

It's the Latin in her.

JOANNA: The boys are back
from their ramble.

England's manhood.

LINNET:
You and Tim seem awfully close.

Is there something going on
that I don't know about?

Oh, good heavens, no.

The only woman in Tim Allerton's
life is his mummy.

All far too Sophoclean
for my taste.

And what about the good lord?

Still panting for you, is he?

He's not the panting type.

According to
the gossip columnists,

you're halfway up the aisle.

Oh, no, not yet. Not ever.
Well, not him, anyway.

But, darling,
he's absolutely rolling.

So am I.
[ Sniffs ]

Oh, so divine.

I bet these cost more
than the house.

Looks and money.
I can't believe I like you.

LINNET: Joanna, darling,
you don't like anyone.

Don't I?
Oh, well.

[ Knock on door ]

Yes?

Mlle. de Bellefort
will be here for supper.

Thank you, Louise.

JOANNA:
What on earth's wrong with her?

Look, her ghastly boyfriend
is in trouble with the law,

and, can you believe,

she's asked me to stand bail
for him?

I said, "On no account,"

and that, frankly, prison's
the best place for him.

Oh, dear.

She'll get over it.

Allow me.

There.

God, I wonder what Jackie wants.

The fact is, darling,
I'm engaged.

So that's it.
Who is he?

His name's Simon Doyle,

and he's big and boyish
and deliciously uncomplicated.

He's been working in the city,

and now they're,
well, cutting down,

so he's out of a job.

Oh, Linnet, I shall die
if I can't marry him.

I shall simply die.

My dear, you have got it bad.

Well, when I heard
you bought this place,

I realized you'd be needing
a land agent,

and I thought Simon. Oh,
darling, he'd be just perfect.

He loves the country,
knows all about estates,

and if he doesn't come up
to scratch,

well, you can always sack him.

Say you will, Linnet, please.

[ Laughter ]

Oh, I knew you wouldn't
let me down!

We want to go to Egypt
for our honeymoon.

Can you imagine walking
down an avenue of sphinxes

with the man you love?

Could anything be more romantic?

Bring him along,
and I'll take a look.

Well, actually, he's here.

What?

Just in case you said yes.

You'll adore him.

Simon.

This is Simon Doyle.

Simon, this is Linnet Ridgeway,

the most wonderful friend
a girl could have.

Well, now,
isn't this simply lovely?

[ Bell ringing ]

[ Speaking indistinctly ]

[ Jazz music plays ]

Isn't that Hercule Poirot?

Do you mean
that dwarfish-looking creature

mincing down the stairs?

Oh, that's not very nice,
darling.

What on earth is he doing here?

[ Laughter ]

I'd love someone
to dance with me.

Oh, but who on this planet
would want to dance with you?

Perhaps someone may
if I stayed--

And pigs might fly.

Remember, my dear,
why you're here.

To be handy, Cousin Marie.

Precisely.

After you've prepared
my couchette,

you may attend to my eggnog.

You're not going to be grumpy,
are you, darling?

If only there were
more young people around...

Oh, whatever for?

Oh, you'd like it
if Joanna were here.

- No, I wouldn't.
- Mm-hmm.

In fact, I wouldn't care
if I never saw Joanna again.

I don't need Joanna
when I have you.

Oh, darling.

[ Chuckling ]

My God, did you see that?

Keep your voice down.

She's old enough
to be his mother.

She is his mother.

I need some air.

Ah.

Merci.

SALOME:
M. Poirot?

Madame.

- Salome Otterbourne.
- Enchanté.

That Gallic charm.
You French are all the same.

But I am Belgian, madame.

I was wondering
if you would care

to trip the light fantastic
avec moi?

Trip?

I know this is
the wrong way around,

but, after all,
we are liberated now.

[ Jazz music continues ]

I was a great supporter
of the suffragettes, you know?

So, are you here on business?

Are there grave affairs
to be dealt with?

No, madame.
I am simply the man of leisure.

[ Laughing ]
Essential, n'est-ce pas?

To be out of London in January.

Poor man. She's got her claws
into him already.

I'm here for the local color.

My new book,
"Snow on the Desert's Face,"

is set in these parts.

No doubt it will cause
another furor,

but no matter.

I speak the truth.

Why is everyone so afraid
of sex?

[ Chuckles ]

The stars of the show.

MRS. ALLERTON: You'd think
she'd have some sense of shame.

TIM:
Oh, don't be so old-fashioned.

MRS. ALLERTON: Well, she is
rather lovely, I must admit.

Linnet Doyle's the only heiress
in England

that doesn't look like a horse.

Hello, Andrew.

Spectacular.

Right over here.

Seems that everybody
who is anybody

is in Egypt ce soir.

The lure of the fleshpots,
no doubt.

- You remember Simon.
- Yes.

FERGUSON:
Incredible, isn't it?

Millions unemployed,

a lunatic about
to take power in Germany,

and all we read about
is how some spoiled brat

ditched a lord
for her best friend's fiancé.

Some people have everything.

Depends on what you think
is worth having.

Hello, Simon.

- Hi, how are you?
- Wonderful.

- Hello, Tim.
- Linnet, you look ravishing.

This is Andrew Pennington,
my American trustee.

We just bumped into him
in Cairo.

Uh, yes, quite a coincidence.

Mother, I'm sure M. Poirot
would like a rest.

No, no, no, no, no, no.

I think that is a good idea,
because--

No, no, no, no, no.
Please.

Because my dinner seems
a little reluctant to settle.

If you will excuse me...

Of course, monsieur.

We shall resume très bientôt.

Oui. Merci.
Au revoir.

[ Music ends ]

[ Cheers and applause ]

[ Jazz music plays ]

Linnet!

What a simply divine surprise.

We just can't stop bumping
into each other, can we?

Hello, Simon.

You look a little tired,
darling.

Wearing you out, is she?

I'd hang on tight, ducky.

He's a slippery fish.

I'll be seeing you.

Are you all right?

Yes, I'm fine.

Mademoiselle.

I hope my mother
hasn't exhausted you.

Not at all.

I know how exhausting
she can be.

Linnet Doyle's very beautiful,
isn't she?

- Oui, mademoiselle.
- And very rich, too.

I've read about her
in all the papers.

Seen her photograph everywhere.

But nothing can quite
prepare you

for how lovely she is
in the flesh.

I don't think
I've ever hated anyone so much

on first sight.

But all that glitters...

Not in her case.

Life is not fair, M. Poirot.

Has life been unfair to you,
mademoiselle?

You've met my mother.

- M. Poirot?
- Hmm?

I didn't mean to startle you,

but I am very anxious
to speak with you.

At your service, madame.

You know who I am, perhaps?

Oh, yes, I know exactly
who you are.

To come straight to the point,

I am a victim
of an intolerable persecution.

Persecution?

Perhaps if you could explain
a little further...

It's really very simple.

Before I met my husband,

he was engaged
to a friend of mine,

Jacqueline de Bellefort.

Now, they weren't remotely
suited, and he broke it off.

She-- I'm sorry to say--
has taken it rather badly,

and out of pure spite,

has chosen to hound us
wherever we go.

And you are here, I understand,
on your honeymoon?

That's right.

Now, she first appeared
in Venice,

and then in Brindisi,
and then in Cairo, and now here.

She simply cannot be allowed
to carry on like this.

But she is perfectly
within her rights.

I'm sorry, did you not see
the way she behaved just now?

Oui, but she did not
actually threaten you

or cause you any bodily harm.

No, evidently, she is
very much aggrieved, madame.

If you're implying that
I stole my friend's fiancé,

then I assure you, you're wrong.

She loved him, yes,

but her feelings
were not reciprocated.

Even before he met me,
he knew he'd made a mistake.

But was there not a moment

when you realized
that you had a choice?

You have everything,

but your friend,
from what I understand,

had him only.

Now, pardon my impertinence,
madame,

but I suspect you are feeling
a little guilty.

Couldn't you at least
try to reason with her?

Madame, I am on holiday.

I'm sure that we can come
to some kind of arrangement.

No, madame...

I am sure we could not.

[ Speaks French ]

She did threaten to kill us,
you know?

But then,
she does have a tendency

to be a little dramatic.

Oh.

[ Crying, sniffling ]

I suppose you saw
the little floor show.

Oui, mademoiselle.

I'm afraid I rather lost
my head.

They serve the most lethal
martinis in this place.

Bury your dead, mademoiselle.

Has Mrs. Doyle sent you?

Got you on her payroll
already, has she?

She has approached me,
that is true, but I declined.

You must look to the future.

[ Scoffs ]
Oh, she'd love that.

I am thinking of you.

You have before you
your whole life.

Simon is my life.

POIROT: I could see
that you loved him, but...

We loved each other, M. Poirot,

and Linnet was my best friend.

How could she?

It takes two.

She knew exactly
what she was doing,

and he fell for it.

One of the richest women
in England.

No wonder it went to his head.

You know, we were even planning
to come here

for our honeymoon.

He loves me, M. Poirot.

Even now?

No, not now.

Now I think he hates me.

[ Sniffles ]

Pretty, isn't it?

I'm quite a good shot, actually.

My father taught me.

I have to admit,
it crossed my mind to use it,

but, then, I thought, "No.

Wouldn't it be much more fun

to just follow them
wherever they went?

And just when they thought
it was safe to relax,

there I'd be,
the ghost at the banquet"?

You must stop this now.

And let them get away with it?

Do not open your heart to evil,
mademoiselle.

If you do,
there will be no turning back.

She has taken everything
from me, M. Poirot,

and I want to hurt her,

to put my gun against her head

and gently pull the trigger.

Oh, God, I'm so afraid.

- [ Gasps ]
- What is it?

Over there.
Someone's listening.

POIROT:
I cannot see.

I think they're gone.

I can't do what you ask,
M. Poirot.

Good morning.

Bonjour, M. Doyle.
And how is madame?

Absolutely pooped.

Said she need
a bit more shut-eye.

Gosh, I'm ravenous.
Isn't it marvelous?

They do
an English breakfast here.

I can't stand
all that brioche how-de-do.

Uh, did you, uh...

Have you managed to speak
to Jacqueline,

- Miss de Bellefort, at all?
- Oui.

Did you get her
to see sense, or...

No.
No, I'm afraid not.

But decent girls just don't do
that sort of thing.

She's making a complete ass
of herself

and playing merry hell
with Linnet's nerves.

And yours, monsieur?

Oh, I'd like to wring her neck.

Between ourselves, monsieur,
I've hatched a plan.

I'm letting it be known

that Linnet and I are staying
put for the next couple days

but have, in fact,
booked us on a Nile cruise

leaving tomorrow morning,

under assumed names, of course.

Of course.

Then we'll make it look like
we're going on an excursion.

The maid will take charge
of the luggage,

and we'll hop aboard
at the last minute,

and Bob's your uncle.

By the time Jacqueline realizes
we won't be coming back,

it'll be too late.

So, what do you think,
good wheeze?

Well, she has the brains,
monsieur.

We shall see.

I, myself, will also be
on the cruise.

- Really?
- POIROT: Oui.

Oh, not in any way, I hope,
on our account.

No, no, no, no, no, not at all.

I make my plans well in advance.

That is the way to succeed
in life, n'est-ce pas?

[ Chuckles ]
Yes, I suppose it is.

POIROT:
Who is that gentleman?

Oh, a chap called Pennington,
Linnet's trustee.

Bumped into him by chance
in Cairo.

I must say, he was knocked for
six to find out she was married.

Care to join us?

No, no, no, no, no, no.
But thank you very much.

Jolly nice
chatting to you anyway,

but deviled kidneys beckon.

[ Air horn blows ]

Isn't that our trunk?
Do you think it'll be all right?

Oh, wow!

Welcome.

Welcome aboard the S.S. Karnak.

Good morning.

- I'm so sorry.
- Do you mind?

Oh! Oh, oh!

Don't let them touch
the luggage.

They don't wash.

God, it's a floating tomb!

Don't push me into the sea!

Oh!
Black Hole of Calcutta.

CORNELIA:
Oh, isn't it beautiful?

Where's my other luggage?

I left it with the man.

Merci.

[ Air horn blows ]

Mademoiselle.

There's something
about this place,

don't you think?

Something unsettling
one can't quite resist?

Oui.

I had no idea they were coming.

LINNET:
Oh, this is heaven, darling.

[ Chuckling ]

Darling!

I thought you were staying
at the hotel.

Well, what a hoot.

I'm sure we'll have
an absolute ball.

You refuse to help, M. Poirot,
and look what happens.

But this is not of my making.

How could she have known
that we would be on the boat?

But if you are suggesting--

I'm suggesting nothing,
monsieur,

but I will tell you this.

Everybody hates me, okay?

I'm surrounded by enemies.

[ Jazz music plays ]

The way some of them look!

After all we've done for them.

Ah, M. Poirot.

Madame.

M. Allerton.

Now, Mr. Poirot,

perhaps you can help me
put a face

to one or two of the names
on the passenger list.

Dr. Bessner, for example.

Over there, madame.

Oh, yes, the plump one,

with the shaved head
and the Bismarck moustache.

- German, no doubt.
- No, Austrian, I believe.

Oh, bosh, whatever.

So by process of elimination,

the rather glum-looking
young gentleman

must be Mr. Ferguson.

Oui, a progressive thinker,
so I understand.

Rabid Bolshie, more like.

Oh, now, there's someone

I'd throw my cap
into the ring for.

Mother!

Oh, that ruthless jaw...
and extremely rich,

as are most people here.

My, she's ugly.

Like something
you'd unearth on a dig.

Oh! Isn't she lovely?

Madame.

She really knows
how to make an entrance.

Good night, mademoiselle.

Good night, M. Poirot.

You were surprised
to find me here.

[ Chuckles ]

I am more sorry than surprised.

You have chosen a path

that is most dangerous,
mademoiselle.

I doubt that you would
turn back now,

even if you could.

Oh, well.

One must follow one's star.

Love is not everything.

[ Chuckles ]

Oh, but it is.

It is.

You must know that, M. Poirot.

Surely, you understand.

It is terrible, mademoiselle,

all that I have missed in life.

Good night, M. Poirot.

Good night.

Oh, Mlle. Robson,

your companion--
she does not come ashore?

You see, Cousin Marie
has to be very, very careful

about her health,

but she was frightfully kind

and said it would be all right
for me to come.

Well, that is most gracious
of her.

Oh, yes, she is.

It's simply wonderful of her
to bring me on this trip.

I'm such a lucky girl.

I'd always dreamed of traveling.

It's amazing.

Have you ever in your life...

Isn't it miraculous
what man can create?

People died building this lot,
you know?

So, you'd prefer it
if there were no sphinxes,

no beautiful tombs,
no temple, hmm?

It's people that matter,
not stones.

[ Sighs ]

[ Chuckles ]

God,
what were they actually for?

SIMON:
I never really thought about it.

Perhaps they were their
equivalent of garden gnomes.

Nice try, Simon, but just
a little wide of the mark.

The sphinx was, in fact,
a monster from Greek mythology,

with a woman's head--
See?--

and a lioness' body.

And it said--
Oh, don't you want to know?

It said riddles for travelers

and killed those
who got them wrong.

Just sign right there.

And this is the lease agreement
for the 5th Avenue apartment.

LINNET:
Yes.

Yeah, just sign right there.

Yeah, it's perfectly in order.

I'm sure it is,
but I like to read everything.

Gosh, I've never read
a legal document in my life.

How very slipshod of you.

It's really quite
straightforward, my dear.

It's just a lot of legal jargon.

I just sign on the dotted line.
[ Laughs ]

Now, that could be quite risky,
don't you think?

Darling, if you carry on
at this rate,

we'll be here all day.

Why don't we do this later?

LINNET:
I think that's a very good idea.

It's getting frightfully hot
up here.

Where have you been?

I'm so sorry, Cousin Marie.
I couldn't find it.

You really are
a hopeless creature!

I can be rather stupid, can't I?

MARIE:
You most certainly can!

CORNELIA:
Oh, you forgot your magazine.

What is the point
of someone like that?

And that rich kid.

Signs a few documents,

then has to rest
because it's so frightfully hot.

And what sets you apart,
M. Ferguson?

I make people aware,

and I certainly don't swot
around like a fop.

Why are you actually here,
M. Poirot?

I'm on holiday.
And you?

I'm studying conditions.

Oh, M. Poirot.
I'm so sorry.

It's all the motion.

I can't seem to find
my sea legs.

It's all this pitching
and lurching.

I think it would be best
if you--

Where is that wretched girl?

Leaving me to suffer
hour upon hour!

God, I hope we don't go down,
M. Poirot.

The thought of being nibbled
by haddock and carp.

It is a little
too dangerous out here, huh?

Yes.

You might be swept overboard.

And end my days
in Neptune's arms,

covered in carbuncles
like an old wreck?

[ Air horn blows ]

No, no, no, no, no, no, no.

- Oh, uh, no, thank you.
- I already got one of those.

[ Indistinct conversations ]

No doubt it was
a pleasant surprise,

to run into Linnet Doyle
and discover she was married.

Yes. Yes, it was.

Well, actually,
she did write me about it.

I had already left New York
on the Carminic.

Oh, the Carminic.

Yes, yes.

Most fortunate, then,

that you had with you
all of her documents.

That's really none
of your business.

But as you've mentioned it,

I had them sent over
after we met.

Now, if you'll excuse me...

Oh.

Don't fall down the hole.

The goddess Hathor
is often depicted

as the winged cow of creation

who gave birth
to the entire universe.

Oh, my.
She did keep herself busy.

And, occasionally,
she can be mistaken for Isis,

who was magically impregnated
with the seed of her own son.

Oh, heavens to Betsy.

MARIE: Cornelia!

Oh, um, I'm sorry.

A nice, curvy girl.
This is what I like.

MARIE: You didn't bring
my smelling salts!

LINNET: Oh, when are we gonna
see some more pyramids?

I thought Egypt
was full of them.

Vamoose.
No, you've had enough.

Go away, you little horrors.

Oh, what a wonderful way
to be remembered.

Maybe I'll have one built
on the grounds.

And you can be buried in it,
too.

I say.

It'll certainly give the locals
something to talk about.

- [ Rumbling ]
- [ Shouts ]

Oh!

Oh, my God, Simon!

[ Crying ]

Madame, monsieur.

Are you hurt?

Well, isn't that fascinating?

The goddess Hathor
was a beautiful woman

with the head of a cow.

Still, I suppose it's better

than being a cow with the head
of a beautiful woman.

This place is simply drenched
in historical goodies like that.

- I thought that--
- Yes, monsieur, I know.

I know what you thought.

Darling,
are you sure you're all right?

Dear, what happened?

Keep as still as you can,
please.

Keep still!

[ Camels grunting ]

I need a drink.
These sands are so hot.

MAN:
More water.

Salaam alaikum.

Bonjour.

[ Speaking Arabic ]

Pardon. Je ne comprends pas,
monsieur.

Had you fooled there, Poirot,
you old dog.

- Oh.
- RACE: How's tricks?

Colonel Race,
I do not believe my eyes!

How are you?

Saddlesore, flea-ridden.
Otherwise, tip-top.

Oh, what a big surprise
to see you here.

Well, I've been sorting out
a few local difficulties.

Restless natives,
the odd assassination,

that sort of thing.

I say, that's pretty daring.

Oh, merci.

You know, you really must
give me the name of your tailor.

Oui.
Where are you heading?

RACE:
Back upriver with you.

With me?

Shouldn't you be
on the government steamer?

Well, in normal circumstances,
yes,

but when I heard that my old
chum Poirot was in the vicinity,

I thought that would be
much more fun.

Something always seems
to happen around you.

I think it might have
already started, mon ami.

Oh, jolly good.

Oui.

Mme. Allerton, Mme. Otterbourne,

permit me to introduce
a very old friend of mine--

Colonel Race.

[ Scoffs ]

Oh, that's where the queen was.

Thank you, partner.

Hope I get the cards this time.

Mademoiselle.

DR. BESSNER:
Ah, Miss Robson.

Where have you been?

You're unusually breathless...

and blotchy.

Oh, dear.
I'm sorry, Cousin Marie.

I was just outside.

And what have you done
with my velvet stole?

Oh, shall I see
if it's in the cabin?

Oh, it couldn't possibly be
in the cabin.

I had it in here
just after dinner,

and I haven't moved since,
have I, Dr. Bessner?

No, Miss Van Schuyler.

It was on that chair,
and it's not now.

I thought
you must have taken it.

Oh, I'm afraid I didn't.

It was a gift
from Count Von Mecklemberg.

Miss Van Schuyler.

Miss Robson.

Bonne nuit.

Poirot.

Ah, bonne nuit, mademoiselle.

You look tired, M. Poirot.

Ah, oui, oui.
C'est vrai.

It must, I think, be the heat.

Bonne nuit.

[ Buzzer ]

♪ Love is the sweetest thing ♪

♪ What else on earth
could ever bring ♪

♪ Such happiness to everything ♪

♪ Love is the sweetest thing ♪

- ♪ Ba ba ba ba ba ♪
- Ah.

Cornelia, come and join me.

Oh, well...

Decided to make a night of it?

No, no, I just didn't
want to go to bed yet.

It's such a beautiful night.

It is lovely, isn't it?

Just perfect for a honeymoon.

Oh, two large gins.

Oh, no, I couldn't.

Oh, tish.

What's our score, Simon?

Sorry.

Uh, we've made 120
below the line...

JACQUELINE: Not bad-looking,
don't you think?

Oh, well,
I don't know about that.

He'd better watch out there are
no man-eaters around here.

I'm so sorry.
I'm suddenly very tired.

And it is getting rather rowdy
in here.

Yes, time to turn in.

Are you coming, Simon?

I'll, uh...
I'll just finish my drink.

- Good evening.
- Good evening.

Oh, well.

But, my dear, you haven't had
your nightcap yet.

No.

JACQUELINE:
We girls must stick together.

Absolutely gasping.

Thank you.

To love, marriage.
Stuff like that.

[ Coughs ]

Tell me all about yourself.

Oh, dear.

Well, there isn't that much
to tell.

I live at home in Connecticut,

in a little place
called Belfield,

and it's my first trip
to Europe,

and I am just loving
every minute.

Oh, go on.

I live with my mother,
whose health is, unfortunately,

a little delicate at the moment.

She sleeps very badly,

and she eats
only intermittently.

Some days,
just a piece of fruit or two,

and other days,
she'll only touch cereals.

Do go on.

Yes, yes, we're all ears.

[ Yawns ]
I must get to bed.

Don't.
I want to hear more.

There isn't any more.

Oh, please.

CORNELIA:
Well, I love art,

and, um, I go to classes

and sculpt a little
and throw pots.

Sounds a hoot.

Ring the bell, Simon.

It's after midnight.

But I need a drink.

You've had enough.

So what?

[ Clears throat ]

A bit of air.

Yes, I think that's time.

Don't leave, Cornelia.

You see, Simon here is afraid.

Afraid that I might tell you
the story of my life.

Go to bed, Jackie.

Afraid of a scene, are you?

Want me to behave decently,
like you behaved to me?

Do you really think
you can get away with this?

You're drunk.

I said I'd kill you,
and, by God, I meant it.

Miss de Bellefort!

I'll shoot you like a dog,
like the dirty dog you are!

Aah!

Oh!

Mr. Ferguson!
Mr. Ferguson!

Good God.

I didn't...

Uh, Ferguson, someone's coming.

Tell them it's an accident.
It's nothing.

Ohh!

Nothing to worry about.

Charades, that's all.

A game, fun, ha ha ha.

Ah, yes, yes.

Well, I don't think anyone else
would have heard it.

It sounded like a cork popping.

Oh, what have I done?

It'll be all right.

Get her out of here, for
God's sake. Back to her cabin.

And don't let her be left alone,
whatever you do.

Don't worry, Mr. Doyle.
I'll stay with her.

Get Dr. Bessner
to take a look at it.

I'll kill myself.

Please, please don't let
my wife get wind of this.

This way. Come on.
It's all right. Come on.

[ Gasping ]

Oh, God!
What have I done?

No, no, no, no, no.

No, I must!

I must.

His poor leg,
broken and bleeding.

Oh, God.
What if he bleeds to death?

Oh, Miss de Bellefort,
I don't think he'll do that.

Let go of me!
I want to drown myself.

Calm down.

I'll get Dr. Bessner.

[ Sobbing ]

[ Snoring ]

Do you have any idea
what time it is?

We need your help.
Something's happened.

[ Sighs ]

SIMON:
[ Gasping ]

Gott im Himmel!

Uhh! Uhh!

[ Grunts ]

It is bad.

The bone is fractured,

and you have lost
a lot of blood.

Herr Ferguson,
we must take him to my cabin.

Uhh!

Gently.

Uhh!

Be careful, now.

That is the best I can do.

You have been a hero, my friend.

And now I will give you
something to help you sleep.

Has anyone told Frau Doyle?

No. No.
It can wait till morning.

You mustn't blame Jackie.

It's my fault.
I behaved like a cad.

She didn't know
what she was doing.

Ja. Ja.

She might, uh, hurt herself.

Someone ought to stay with her.

It's all right.
Miss Robson's with her.

Good. Good.

The pistol.

You can't leave it lying around.

The stewards will find it.

I'll get it.

It's gone.

Are you sure?

Yes.
It dropped out of her hand.

She kicked it under a chair.
I saw her do it.

But it's not there.

Who could have taken it?

[ Humming ]

- [ Knock on door ]
- Entrez.

Ah, my dear colonel.

What a beautiful morning,
n'est-ce pas?

I'm afraid someone's been shot.

Who?

Linnet Doyle. Last night.

Shot through the head.

DR. BESSNER: The pistol was held
close against her head.

See where the skin is scorched?

Oui.

DR. BESSNER:
There was no struggle.

She was shot in her sleep.

RACE:
Time of death?

She has certainly been dead
six hours

and probably not longer
than eight.

RACE:
Between 12:00 and 2:00?

May I ask, Colonel,

with what authority
you make these inquiries?

The cruise manager has asked me

to take matters in hand
until we reach port.

I have some slight
official standing, you see.

We are all at the disposal
of the colonel.

RACE: Yes, quite.
Now, what's all that about?

POIROT:
What, this?

It seems very simple,
does it not?

It would appear
that, as she is dying,

she writes with her finger
dipped into her own blood

the initial of the name
of the murderer.

Jacqueline de Bellefort,

the young lady who,
less than a week ago,

declared to me that,
"I would like nothing better

than to place my gun
against her head

and gently pull the trigger."

So, I suppose
her husband's next door.

At the moment,
he is in my cabin, asleep.

He spent the night
in your cabin, Dr. Bessner?

Ja.

I see you have not heard.

Mr. Doyle was also shot
last night.

What?

In the leg.

Is there anyone else
we should know about?

That is all.

It seems that Mlle. de Bellefort

worked herself up,
helped by a few drinks,

and finally took a shot at him.

The poor man
is completely immobilized.

Then she went along
to Linnet Doyle's cabin

and shot her, as well.

No, no, no, no, no.
That was not possible.

You see, she was in
an hysterical state,

and Doyle was most concerned
she should not harm herself.

So Miss Robson stayed with her
all night.

Who discovered the crime?

It was their maid, apparently.
Louise Bourget.

Colonel,
my office is ready for you, sir.

Thank you.

If you could be as discreet
as possible...

Well, that's our speciality,
old chap.

Yes, sir.
Of course.

Now we need to speak to Doyle.
You say he's still asleep?

I gave him a very strong opiate.

I would suggest
I have my breakfast,

and then I will see
if he is ready to wake.

Thank you, Doctor.

Colonel.

Hmm.

So at midnight, Mme. Doyle
was alive and well.

Yes, I saw her to her cabin.

Who was remaining in the lounge?

Doyle, Miss de Bellefort,
Miss Robson, and myself.

And what were you all doing?

Oh, Mr. Ferguson
was reading a magazine.

And I'd got some embroidery,
and Miss de Bellefort was...

Drinking.

- Yes.
- Like a fish.

And I tried to leave once
or twice, but she made me stay.

And I was getting
very uncomfortable.

And so was Mr. Ferguson,
who went out on deck.

It was pretty stuffy in there.

CORNELIA: Then Miss de Bellefort
pulled out a pistol

and shot Mr. Doyle in the leg.

And I called for Mr. Ferguson,

and Mr. Doyle
said not to make a fuss.

And then one
of the stewards came,

and Mr. Ferguson told him
it was all sort of a game.

And then Miss de Bellefort
started to cry.

So we took her back
to her cabin,

and I stayed with her while
Mr. Ferguson got Dr. Bessner.

- At what time was this?
- Mercy, I don't know.

About 20 past 12,

because it was half-past
when I finally turned in.

And you are quite certain

that Mlle. de Bellefort
did not leave the cabin?

Positive.

So she couldn't have shot
Mrs. Doyle

before, say, 20 past 12:00.

Hmm.

How long did you remain
with her, Mlle. Robson?

Oh, I was with her all night.
She never woke once.

I think it was probably
the drink.

Bien. So far,
she has the alibi parfait.

M. Doyle, I understand,

was most anxious that
she should not be left alone.

Yes, he was worried that
she might do something stupid.

Hmm.

She even said that she wanted
to kill herself.

And the pistol--
what happened to that?

She dropped it.

And kicked it under a chair.

But when I went to get it,
it, uh, it had gone.

Gone?

Now we begin to arrive.

You are quite certain
that Mlle. de Bellefort

did not recover it
before she left the lounge?

- Yes.
- Absolutely.

She had no opportunity
of returning to retrieve it.

So how long was it

between the time
that you and Dr. Bessner

carried M. Doyle
out of the cabin

and when you returned
to look for the pistol?

- Five minutes?
- Five minutes.

And in that five minutes,
someone removed the pistol,

and that someone was not
Jacqueline de Bellefort.

And we may assume
that this person had overheard

or seen something
of the events preceding.

How do you make that out?

Because you told to us that
the pistol, it was out of sight,

so it could hardly
be discovered by accident.

Well, I saw no one else on deck
before the shot was fired.

On which side were you,
monsieur?

Starboard, I think.

So, if anyone was
on the portside,

you could not have seen them.

No, I suppose not.

POIROT: Did anyone hear the
shot, apart from the steward?

I doubt it.

It sounded like
a cork popping, anyway.

Did you hear anything at all
after retiring?

I think I heard a kind of splash
just as I was dropping off.

What time would that be?

What's French
for "the third degree"?

Just answer the question.

1:00. 5 till, 5 past.
Who knows?

Now, will that be all?

Hmm? Oh, yes.

Thank you, monsieur,
for your help.

Oh, by the way...

...who exactly are you?

What a damfool question.

Heat getting too much
for you, is it?

No.

But thank you for your concern.

What a frightfully rude
young man.

Oh, one thing more,
mademoiselle.

Had you ever met Mme. Doyle
before this trip?

No. Never.

Merci.

Good day.

I didn't do it.

You must believe me.

I was in such a state
I could've killed Simon,

but I didn't do the other.

There, there.

We know, mademoiselle.

- You do?
- Oh, yes.

It is proved, mon enfant,
it was not you.

[ Exhales sharply ]

Oh, thank God for that.

So, who was it?

Oh, that is where we need help.

I can't think of anyone who
wanted her dead except for me.

I wanted her dead.

And she is dead.

And she died just like I said.

Oui.
Shot through the head.

You see, I was right.

There was someone listening
that night at the hotel.

Who could he have been?

Are you certain it was a man?

No, I just assumed.

[ Knock on door ]

Entrez.

Doyle is ready to see you.

JACQUELINE:
Is he all right?

Of course he is not all right.

You shot him.

He's not going to die, is he?

He has the constitution
of a peasant.

We will get him to civilization

where he will have an X-ray
and proper treatment.

[ Sighs ]

We now know that is was not
Jacqueline de Bellefort

who shot your wife.

So can you give to us any idea

who you think
it might have been?

Did she have any enemies

or know one who bore
against her a grudge?

Uh, you see, M. Doyle,

on the first day of the cruise,

I had a little encounter
with your wife.

She was upset.

She said that everybody--
everybody, mark you-- hated her

and that she was
surrounded by enemies.

Now, she was exaggerating,
but...

She did mean more
than one person.

There was a name
on the passenger list.

Sir, what-- what name was that?

She didn't actually tell me.

You see, her father
played the markets.

Several people got it
in the neck.

Rolling in it one day,
and in the gutter the next.

There's someone on board
whose father was one of those

that had it in
for Linnet's old man.

Oh!

She said how awful it was,

everyone hating her
without even knowing her.

She did not mention a name?

[ Indistinct conversations ]

[ Shouting in native language ]

Tell me, Mlle. Bourget,

what hour was it when you
last saw alive your mistress?

Sometime after midnight,
monsieur.

POIROT:
And what then?

Then I went to my cabin,
monsieur.

You heard or saw nothing?

BOURGET:
How could I?

That is for you to say,
mademoiselle.

My cabin is on the deck
below on the other side.

It is not possible
I should hear anything,

unless I could not sleep
and came back up.

Then, perhaps, I see something.

This monster enter or leave
my mistress's cabin.

But as it is,
monsieur, I implore you.

You see how it is?
What can I say?

- Calm down, for heaven's sake!
- Shh.

You'll be all right.
I'll look after you.

Nobody's accusing you
of anything.

Monsieur is very good.

Do you know anyone
who had a grudge

against your mistress?

No, monsieur.

Everybody loved her.

Tell me, M. Doyle,

did your wife have with her
on this cruise

any jewelry that was valuable?

Her pearls.

Do you know anything about
these pearls, mademoiselle?

She was wearing them last night.

Did you see them
when she went to bed?

Yes, monsieur.

- POIROT: Where did she put them?
- On her bedside table.

Were they there this morning?

I did not see, because
when I come into her room,

the only thing I notice
is madame dead!

Eh bien, mademoiselle,
I did see,

and there were no pearls

on her bedside table
this morning.

Merci.

I think I heard a splash
and someone running.

Or was it the other way about?

Do you know what time that was?

An hour after I went to bed.

Or maybe more.

I can't be sure.

Had you ever met
Mme. Doyle before?

No, but I'd heard a lot
about her

through a relative of ours--
Joanna Southwood--

and through Tim, of course,
who had met her.

One more question, madame.

Uh, did your family
ever suffer financially

through the dealings
of the father of Mme. Doyle?

Oh, no.

Our family finances
have never suffered,

except by dwindling.

Our poverty
has never been melodramatic.

I was woken by lots
of different voices,

then somebody running
along the deck,

then a splash.

You're sure it was not a shot
that you heard?

Well, it might have been.

I did hear a cork pop.

Perhaps that was the shot
and I imagined the splash.

You know, sort of
thought association.

Cork popping, liquid splashing.

And after that?

Oblivion.

[ Shouting in native language ]

I heard somebody on deck
and then a splash.

Do you know what time this was?

10 after 1:00.
I looked in my clock.

You did not hear a shot?

No, I did not.

Have you any idea what
might have caused the splash?

Oh, yes.

You do?

I know exactly what it was.

I went to the door of my cabin.

The daughter of that
hideous woman in the turban

was leaning over the rail.

She'd just dropped something
into the water.

RACE:
You quite sure?

Why else would I have said it?

- [ Knock on door ]
- Yes?

- [ Door opens ]
- We found it, Colonel.

Good show.

Is this the gun you saw
at the hotel?

POIROT:
Yes, it is.

Two shots fired.
This must be the weapon.

What about my stole?
Look at the state of it!

Where did you last see this?

I had it in the lounge
yesterday evening.

Please, do observe.

Hélas.

Oh!

So the murderer

must have used this
as a silencer.

The impertinence!

Miss Van Schuyler,
would you excuse us, please?

Count Von Mecklemberg
will be most displeased.

No, no, no, no, no,
no, no, no, no!

It does not make sense!

If the murderer wishes us
to believe

that Jacqueline de Bellefort
was the culprit,

why throw the revolver--

the evidence
that is most damning of all--

into the River Nile?

I told you.
I never left my cabin.

POIROT:
That is strange, mademoiselle,

because someone said
they saw you.

- Who?
- Mlle. Van Schuyler.

She looked out of her cabin

and saw you throw something
over the side.

And what else does she claim
to have seen?

Nothing.

But she heard something.

Someone moving about the cabin
of Mme. Doyle.

Of course, mademoiselle,
there might be a reason

that is perfectly innocent

for throwing something
overboard,

but, then again...

Is that what
she was killed with?

Oui, mademoiselle.

Mm. And you think
that I might have done it?

Mlle. Van Schuyler
is prepared to swear

that she saw you quite clearly
in the moonlight.

It wasn't me.

I was dead to the world,

like poor Mme. Doyle is now,
in fact.

A crime passionnel,
wouldn't you say, M. Poirot?

That girl Jacqueline--
half Latin, you know--

creeping along the deck,
pistol at full cock.

Or Mr. Doyle--

deranged by desire,
lust pumping through his veins.

Or perhaps Miss Robson,
the repressed virgin--

tragically plain,
driven to distraction

by the proximity
of honeymoon passion.

POIROT:
Tell me, M. Pennington,

are you aware Of anyone

who might have wished
to see Mme. Doyle dead?

Well, there's that madame, uh--

that Miss de Bellefort girl.

Mm-hmm.

Now, if looks could kill...

Thank you for that, monsieur.

You may perhaps also recall
that Mme. Doyle--

she had a very near escape
at the Temple of Hathor.

Well, I did hear about that...
[ Coughs ]

But I was inside the temple
at the time.

Mr. Doyle mentioned
there was someone on board

who bore a grudge
against her family.

Do you know who that could be?

PENNINGTON:
I'm afraid I don't.

RACE: No business dealings
of her father

that might have resulted
in ruin for some rival?

[ Sighs ]
Not that I am aware of, no.

Hmm.

[ Indistinct shouting ]

So, why should the murderer
take the stole

before the event?

After all, nobody knew

that Mlle. de Bellefort
and M. Doyle

were going to have a scene.

Perhaps he found it
when he went to get the pistol.

Why was it not discovered
when the search for it was made?

No, no, my friend.
It makes no sense.

Well, don't be downhearted.

We'll get to the bottom of it.

Oh, I know I will.

[ Door opens ]

- Ah.
- Oh.

Doyle has asked if he may see
Mlle. de Bellefort.

Oui.
I will bring her to him.

- Very good.
- Bon.

Oh.

Did you know that M. Pennington
told to us a lie?

Did he?

He said that he was
in the temple

when the statue head fell.

He was not.

I had just come from there
myself.

Come in.

[ Door opens ]

I thought
you might be worrying,

and I wanted you to know
that it's all right.

I've behaved
absolutely rotten to you.

[ Crying ]
I'm sorry.

I'm so sorry.

[ Sniffles ]

SALOME: How could you
do this to me?

How could you?
You know I need it!

ROSALIE: It's for
your own good, Mother.

SALOM E:
Ungrateful wretch!

You have no idea
how I'm suffering!

ROSALIE:
You never let me forget!

[ Breathing heavily ]

Mademoiselle,
may I have a few words?

I will not beat
about the bushes,

but your mother--
she drinks, n'est-ce pas?

There's no need for you to talk.

When I first met you,
I saw at once

that you were protecting her
from something,

and very soon I discovered
what that something was.

The secret drinker with the
secret cunning of the drunkard

with a secret supply
hidden away.

I believe that yesterday
you discovered her supply.

And while your mother
was sound asleep,

you threw overboard the bottles.

I am right, am I not?

It all began when her book
stopped selling,

and it hurt her dreadfully.

She made a complete fool
of herself.

It was awful.

I had to keep my eye on her
all the time,

and she began to hate me.

Pauvre petite.

Oh, don't pity me,
for God's sake.

I know people think
I'm stuck up...

and bad-tempered,

but the truth is,
I've forgotten how to be nice.

You won't tell anyone, will you?

No.

But now I want you to tell to me
that which I need to know.

At what time did you throw
overboard your bottles?

At 10 minutes after 1:00,
perhaps?

About that. Yes.

Now, as I have already told you,

Mlle. Van Schuyler
saw you from her cabin door.

Now, tell me, did you see her?

No, I didn't.

I looked along the deck,
out to the river.

But did you see anyone
when you looked along the deck,

anyone at all?

No. I saw nobody.

Merci.

Stolen?

I'm afraid that is so, madame.

Those beautiful pearls.

Remember that party
at the Portarlingtons

when Lady Huber's diamonds
were stolen?

The police gave you all
quite a grilling.

Poor child.

She looks dreadfully unhappy.

Well, she shouldn't go around
shooting people.

I mean, who does she think
she is, Annie Oakley?

The French have blood
on their hands.

We have blood on our hands.

And one day, we will pay for it
all clearly, I tell you.

Yeah, and I tell you
to shut up and eat.

Why couldn't you wait for me?

I have something to do.

I remember reading about
the diamonds of Lady Huber.

TIM:
Yes, well, as usual,

Mother's got the whole thing
hopelessly wrong.

I wasn't there when
they were actually stolen,

just when it was discovered

that the old bag
was wearing paste

around her fat neck.

Some say
she was in on it herself.

Joanna, no doubt.

Joanna wasn't there, Mother.

RACE:
If I may have your attention.

[ Glass pings ]

It's come to our notice
that a valuable string of pearls

belonging to the late Mrs. Doyle
has gone missing.

What?

RACE: A search of the boat
is about to take place.

I'd be grateful
if you would all remain here

until it's completed.

And thereafter,
I'd be most grateful

if you would all submit
yourselves to a search.

- Outrageous!
- Please excuse me.

[ Indistinct conversations ]

Sir, there is a lady

who says it is urgent
she should speak with you.

Bring her in.

Please.

- Miss Robson.
- Mademoiselle.

What can we do for you?

You took them?

No, I didn't.

Cousin Marie did.

Mlle. Van Schuyler?

CORNELIA:
She can't help it.

It's her little... idiosyncrasy.

That's why I'm here--
to keep an eye on her.

Where did you find them?

They were in her stockings
this morning.

That's where
she usually hides things.

I knew whose they were,
so I went along to return them,

but there was a steward on guard
who told me about the murder.

I've been in an absolute state
all morning.

The Van Schuylers, you see,
are very particular.

I mean, it would never do
if this got into the papers.

But it won't, will it?

RACE:
Well, that depends, Miss Robson.

No, no, no, no, no.

We shall do our very best
for you,

of course, mademoiselle.

- Thank you so much.
- Please.

Thank you, monsieur.

Poi rot?

Imitation, my friend.

Now we begin our search
for the real thing.

RACE: I doubt we'll find them
in Mrs. Doyle's own cabin.

POIROT: One never knows
what one might find, Colonel.

[ Sniffing ]

"Das Kapital."
Comrade Ferguson's a Bolshie.

I always knew
there was something fishy

about the chap.

POIROT: A Bolshie is not all
that he is.

M. Allerton, it would seem,
is most religious.

Glue.

Now, what would he want
with this, I wonder?

Well, I don't know.

POIROT: "Mr. Pennington.
S.S. Normandie."

Poirot.

[ Door opens ]

The passengers
have been searched, sirs.

And?

Nothing, except for
Miss Rosalie Otterbourne.

There was a small revolver
in her handbag.

So, how did she react?

Ah, she did not notice.

I have my back turned to her
at the time.

Ah.

Still there is one person
we have not searched yet.

Who's that?

The maid Louise Bourget.
We cannot find her anywhere.

Dead not more than an hour.

Instantaneous.

Stabbed through the heart.

POIROT:
With what?

Something like this.

I suppose none of your knives
are missing.

You think I'd kill a miserable,
little femme de chambre?

No, no.
I just wondered.

All my knives are present
and correct.

RACE:
Good, good.

Now, if you will excuse me...

She was holding this.

It's the corner
of a 1,000 franc note.

And what did she say
when we questioned her?

"It is not possible
that I should hear anything

unless I could not sleep
and came back up.

Then, perhaps,
I see something--

this monster enter or leave
my mistress's cabin."

And that is exactly
what happened.

She did return to the top deck.

She did see someone enter
or leave the cabin.

Blackmail?

Yes, so the murderer enters,
gives to her the money,

and while she is counting it...

[ Women laughing ]

[ Knocking ]

You talk of the scandal
mademoiselle, eh?

We were just comparing
lipsticks.

What's wrong, M. Poirot?

The maid of Mme. Doyle,

she has been killed.

Louise?

She saw something
that she was not meant to see.

What?

Someone enter or leave

the cabin of Mme. Doyle
last night.

Did she say who?

Mlle. Jacqueline,
if you please, do excuse us.

Oh. Oh, of course.
Uh...

Thank you.

Why did you not tell to me
the truth?

I have.

No.

You did not tell to me everything
that you saw last night

and you did not tell to me that you have
in your handbag the little revolver.

- I don't.
- Tsk.

[ Clattering ]

[ Rustling ]

I want the truth.

And what is the truth?

That last night you saw someone

come out of the cabin
of Linnet Doyle.

I am right, am I not,
mademoiselle?

I've told you.
I saw no one!

[ Woman crying ]

You're not thinking of
jumping in, are you, old chap?

Why would I want to do that

just when things begin
to fall into place?

Just a few questions.
That is all, Doctor.

I return in three minutes.

Then, positively, you go.

Merci.

I will not detain you for long,
M. Doyle.

So, what is it?

SALOME:
M. Poirot!

M. Poirot!

Oh, M. Poirot!

I must speak with you.
Excuse me.

I have vital information.

I know who killed Linnet Doyle.

What?

Yes, and I have evidence
to prove it.

- S'il vous plaît, madame.
- Merci.

My theories about primeval urges
are completely vindicated.

You will agree
that whoever killed

Louise... what's-her-name

also killed Linnet Doyle?

I saw the person
with my own eyes.

You saw the person
who killed my wife?

SALOME:
It was just before lunch.

I had an arrangement
with one of the ship's personnel

to... get me something I needed.

We were to meet
on the lower deck.

As I walked along,
a cabin door opened,

and this girl--
Louise... Budget?--

Budget-- popped her head out.

I think
she was expecting someone.

But when she saw it was me,
she darted back inside.

I thought nothing of it,
of course, went along,

got the-- from the man,
and started back.

Just as I did,
I saw someone knock

on... [ exhales ]
the maid's door

and go inside.

Yes?

[ Laughing ] Yes!

RACE:
But who was it?

Oh, didn't I say?

- It was...
- Oui?

POIROT:
Oh!

What the devil was that?

- Did you see anyone?
- No.

[ Door opens ]

FERGUSON:
That's Pennington's gun.

I saw him cleaning it
the other day.

[ Footsteps approach ]

So, how do you account
for your gun being used?

I have no idea.

Was anybody aware
that you had one?

I made no secret of it.

Tell me, M. Pennington,

Linnet Doyle was not yet of age
when she married, yes?

She would have turned 21
next July.

Which is when she would have
taken control of her fortune.

According to her father's will,

Linnet was to take over
the dough

when she turned 21
or when she married.

And did this marriage
that was so sudden

- cause you any consternation?
- Why should it?

POIROT:
Perhaps because her affairs

might not be in the perfect
order that they should be,

which she would have noticed

when she took control
on her return to England.

And the prospect so alarmed you,
did it not,

that you rushed over
and arranged a meeting

that was apparently fortuitous
in Cairo.

I did not!

Her letter arrived the day
after I sailed on the Carminic

then why on your luggage
do you have only the labels

of the Normandie,
which sailed two days later?

No, M. Pennington.

It is the easiest thing
in the world

to check the lists
of passengers.

It is my belief
that you came over here

to find some way
out of the mess you were in

and endeavored, without success,

to obtain the signature
of Mme. Doyle

to certain documents--

that while you were walking

along the roof
of the Temple Hathor,

you dislodged a statue head,

which fell very close
to its objet.

This is crazy!

And that a similar opportunity
presented itself

on your return journey home.

Her death would almost certainly
be ascribed to somebody else,

not forgetting the fact--
irrefutable--

that it was your gun that was
used to shoot and kill a woman

who was about to reveal
the identity of the murderer.

Three murders, M. Pennington.

You may rest assured

that the authorities
will conduct an investigation

that is most searching

into the condition of the estate
of Mme. Doyle.

All right!

It's because
of this goddamn slump.

I was hoping,
with a bit of luck,

that I would have
straightened everything out

by the time she took control.

And the statue head was what,
an opportunity too tempting?

That was an accident!

I tripped over my golf club!

[ Coughs ]

And I didn't kill her, either!

You hear me?

You're not gonna pin that on me,
and you never will.

A spoiled brat,
a domestic parasite,

and drunken old bag.

Who cares whether
they're dead or not?

You really are the rudest man.

It's the future that matters,
woman, not the past.

Have you ever considered
for a single second

that somebody somewhere
might be grieving

for that poor maid

or how distraught
Rosalie might be?

And as for Linnet Doyle,
well, she was just so beautiful.

Huh.

Unbelievable, isn't it?

Did you know
that Cornelia's father

was practically ruined
by Linnet's old man,

and all she can say
is how beautiful she was.

Incredible.

I thought you said it was
the future that mattered,

not the past.

Touché.

Will you marry me?

What?

It goes against
all my principles, I know,

but I really think you should.
So how about it?

It's a disgusting idea.

Is that a no?

You are opinionated, unreliable,

scruffy, unpleasant,

and utterly-- utterly--
irritating.

But apart from that...

[ sighs ] You see?

[ Door closes ]

Definitely smitten, I say.

I think I'll have a word
with the old crow.

Quite a field day for you,
isn't it?

Everyone dropping like flies.

Good afternoon.

To come straight to the point,
I want to marry your cousin.

In fact, I've already asked her.

Unfortunately, she declined.

But don't worry. I'll keep on
at her until she says yes.

I can assure you, sir,

I shall take steps to see

that she is not subjected
to any such persecution.

What exactly do you have
against me?

I'm not that bad, you know?

Anatomically, everything
is in the right place,

in perfect working order,

and I'm really quite bright,
so, what's the problem?

Social position, Mr. Ferguson.

Oh, I see.

Cornelia, come here.

Have you been behaving wantonly
with this young man?

No!
No, of course not.

Your cousin says that
I'm not good enough for you.

In the natural order of things,

she thinks that
I'm the equivalent of pond life.

Is that how you see me?

It's not that.

It's-- It's...
[ Sighs ]

Yes?

Oh. [ Sighs ]

Ah.

Isn't she wonderful?

Rather eccentric, I'm afraid,
like most of his family.

He refuses to use his title

because of his
ideas progressive.

Title?

Oui.
Lord Dolish.

You did not know?

Oh, he is--
How do you say it?

Rolling in money, of course,

but he became a Communist
at Oxford.

Lord Dolish?

I recognized him from a picture
in the paper,

and then I discovered
his signet ring

with the Dolish coat of arms
on it.

There can be no doubt,
I assure you.

Oh, I am very much obliged
to you, M. Poirot.

Hmm.

Ah, M. Allerton,

I would like very much to have
a little word with you.

What can I do for you?

There's nothing you can do
for me, monsieur,

but to sit and to listen.

Right, well,
I'm very good at that.

You can rely on me
to say, "Ooh, ah"

at all the right moments.

"Ooh, ah" will do very nicely.

Thank you.

Merci.

So, to begin...

Your friendship with your cousin
Joanna Southwood.

For the past three years,

Scotland Yard
has been preoccupied

with a number
of jewel robberies.

And, you know, the method has
been always exactly the same.

Oui. The substitution of
the original with an imitation.

Attention soon focused
on Mlle. Southwood.

You see,
every one of the victims

had been either a friend
or an acquaintance.

It also became clear

that she did not make
the substitution herself.

No, no, no. She would have
a jeweler make her a copy,

and then the substitution
would be made by someone else.

But the identity of this person
has remained a mystery.

Ooh, ah.

POIROT: Oui.
But over the past few days,

certain facts have emerged
that have been most helpful.

Your attendance
at the house party

when one such robbery occurred,

your obvious resentment
of my presence here,

and the discovery

that the pearls belonging
to Linnet Doyle were missing.

But what do I find?
Ah.

I find that the pearls
that were stolen and returned

were imitation,

previously substituted
for the real thing.

It would have been easy
for Mlle. Southwood

to have found an opportunity

of examining the pearls
of her friend

and to have made a copy.

And it was then just a question
of waiting for the right moment

for you to make
the substitution.

Eh bien, you learned

that Linnet Doyle
was to honeymoon in Egypt,

so parfait, hein?

Mlle. Southwood sends
to you the imitation,

concealed, I suggest,
in a parcel of books.

You then bide your time.

Finally,
you make the substitution,

return to your cabin,

and conceal them by gluing them
into a rosary.

Unfortunately for you,

the night you chose
to do the deed

was the same night
that Linnet Doyle was murdered.

But even more unfortunately

was the fact that someone saw
you leave her cabin.

"Ooh, ah," would you not say,
M. Allerton?

- Who saw me?
- Mlle. Rosalie Otterbourne.

And she told you?

No. In fact, when I taxed her
with it, she lied.

Why?

Mm. Perhaps because she thought
the man she saw

was the murderer.

Well, surely
you're not thinking that--

Was Mme. Doyle alive or dead
when you stole the pearls?

I don't know.

I... really don't know.

Could you hear her breathing?

I couldn't say.
Uh...

Now, listen, you young twerp,

M. Poirot here
can build a case against you

that's so rock-solid

that you'll be hanging
from some gallows

before you can even draw breath
to say "foul."

I didn't murder anyone.

I admit I substituted
the pearls,

but murder, no.

I swear.

It would make a very good case,
though, I assure you.

I suggest that when I examine
the rosary,

I will find nothing there,

and that since Mlle. Otterbourne
still persists on asserting

that she saw no one
on the deck last night,

for this particular theft,

there is no case against you.

The pearls were taken
by a kleptomaniac

who has since returned them.

[ Stutters ]
I don't know what to say, Mr. P.

Under the circumstances,
Mr. A.,

I would suggest
that this is no bad thing.

So, that's that.

Now all I have to do

is return the real thing
to Mr. Poirot.

Why didn't you say
you'd seen me?

I thought
they might suspect you.

Did you suspect me?

[ Chuckles ] No.

I knew you couldn't kill anyone.

A miserable, little thief.
That's all I am.

Barking up the wrong tree,
I'm afraid.

[ Door opens ]

Timothy!

POIROT:
Mademoiselle, messieurs,

I am pleased to inform you

that the picture
is finally complete.

Eh bien, where to begin, huh?

You know, our big mistake--

and unbelievable that
I should go along with it--

was to suppose that this crime
was spontaneous.

Not so. No.

It was worked out meticulously
in every detail.

Even to the drugging
of the bottle of wine

of Hercule Poirot.

I was put to sleep so that
there should be no possibility

of my participating
in the events of the night.

So nothing easier
than to place a narcotic

into my bottle of wine,

which stands on the table
in the dining room.

And my sleepiness...

Eh bien, it had been a hot day.

The drugging
of the bottle of wine

would have had to take place
before dinner at 7:30.

But, you know, even then,

premeditation was very far
from my mind.

The first blow
to our "preconceived" idea

was when the revolver
was recovered

from the River Nile.

If we had been correct,

this revolver would never
have been thrown overboard.

Also the stole, which
was wrapped around the pistol,

showed signs that it
had been fired through.

But the bullet wound showed
signs of scorching,

and that is to say

the revolver had been placed
against her head.

And we knew that the stole
was not used

in the shooting of you,
M. Doyle,

because there are two witnesses
to prove it.

Therefore a third shot
must have been fired

about which we knew nothing.

Next came the two bottles
of nail polish.

Mme. Doyle always painted
her nails cardinal,

a red color
that was deep and dark.

The other bottle was rose--
a shade of pink--

but the few drops
that were remaining

were of bright red.

And instead of the usual odor
of pear drops,

this bottle smelled of ink.

This linked it
with the handkerchief

that was also stained bright red

and wrapped around the revolver.

Then an event occurred

which rendered all that
superfluous.

When I asked Louise Bourget,
the maid,

if she had seen anything,
she said...

It is not possible
I should hear anything,

unless I could not sleep
and came back up.

Then, perhaps,
I see something--

this monster enter or leave
my mistress's cabin.

Yes, but why say this to us?

If she knew who was
the murderer,

why not tell it to us,

or hold her tongue

and demand money
from the guilty person?

But she does neither.
Why?

There can only be one reason.

Because she was hinting
to the murderer.

Therefore the murderer
must have been present.

Are you accusing me?

But why would you kill her,
Dr. Bessner?

And you, M. Doyle,
there are witnesses to swear

that you did not leave
the lounge before the quarrel.

Then you were wounded
in the leg,

making it physically impossible.

So, no, Dr. Bessner must be
the guilty one.

But why should Louise the maid
be hinting to Dr. Bessner?

She could have spoken to him
anytime she wanted.

So, no, there was one person--
and one person only--

who corresponded
to her necessity.

Simon Doyle.

I say.

[ Sighs ]

Poppycock.
Absolute poppycock.

POIROT: You were being
attended to constantly.

She might not get
another chance.

Monsieur, I implore you.

You see how it is?
What can I say?

Calm down, for heaven's sake!

You'll be all right.
I'll look after you.

And that was the assurance
that she wanted,

and she got it.

Impossible.
The man could not move.

Exactly.
This is an outrage.

But what had actually been seen?

Shoot you like a dog,
like the dirty dog you are!

Oh! Mr. Ferguson!
Mr. Ferguson!

Aah!

I didn't mean...

And what then?

Get her out of here, for
God's sake. Back to her cabin.

Don't let her be left alone,
whatever you do.

Oh, don't worry, Mr. Doyle.
I'll stay with her.

Get Dr. Bessner.

POIROT: But all of these cabins
were on the portside.

The cabin of your wife,
M. Doyle,

it was on the starboard side.

So this was your only chance,

and a few minutes is all
that you needed.

You see, what had been witnessed
was not what actually happened.

[ Gunshot ]

[ Gasping ]

Uhh!

POIROT:
M. Allerton heard a pop,

he heard a splash,
and he heard something else--

the footsteps of someone running
past his door.

Now, who could possibly
be running

on the starboard side?

No one except Simon Doyle.

You cooked all that up yourself?

Well, it's all nonsense.
Downright slander!

POIROT: As I have said,
it looked as if this crime

could have been committed
on the spur of the moment,

but, no, no, it was not.

It was not accident that you had
in your pocket the red ink.

It was not accident

that the revolver was kicked
under the chair.

Jacqueline?

Oui. Who gives to Mr. Doyle
his alibi?

The shooting of him
by Jacqueline.

Who gives to Jacqueline hers?

You, Mlle. Robson,

staying with her all of
the night at his insistence.

Oh, the two halves
of the murder,

with all the qualities required.

The cool, resourceful planning
of Jacqueline,

and, oh, the man of action
to carry it out.

They had been lovers, realize
that they were still lovers,

and it all makes sense.

[ Chuckles ]

But then your plan goes
horribly wrong,

does it not, M. Doyle?

For Louise, the maid,
sees you and hints to you

that she requires the money
for hushing her up.

You manage to inform Jacqueline,

tell to her where Dr. Bessner
keeps his scalpels.

[ Screams ]

POIROT:
And, hey, presto.

She returns the scalpel,

hurries into lunch,
rather late and breathless.

But, still, all is not well.

Mme. Otterbourne saw her,
rushes in to tell us.

You raised your voice to her.

You saw the person
who killed my wife?

POIROT:
"Nerves," I thought.

But the door was open,

and you were hinting
of the danger

to your partner in crime.

She acted like lightning.

She remembered

that M. Pennington had
in his cabin a gun.

Crept up behind
the curtain here and...

[ Gunshot ]

Another problem solved.

I am correct,
am I not, M. Doyle?

What happened to the first
bullet fired by the girl?

What is the matter, M. Doyle?

Has the cat got you
by the tongue?

It went into the settee.

You removed it
and threw it out of the window.

You also carried with you
a spare cartridge

to make it look as if
two bullets had been fired.

Did you not, M. Doyle?

A crime that was almost parfait.

You kill your wife,
you inherit her money,

and, in due course,
marry your true love.

It seems as if you had thought
of everything, M. Doyle,

except for one thing.

Hercule Poirot.

[ Crying ]

I'm sorry.

Oh, there, there, M. Doyle.

The executioner here
is very efficient.

The mechanism--
it works like clockwork...

as a rule.

I love him to death.

I can't help it.

As they say,
love makes you do things.

We worked everything out
so carefully.

[ Chuckles ]

But even then,
he went and wrote a "J"

on the wall in her blood.

Such a stupid thing,
but absolutely typical.

Still, we got away with it.

Until Louise Bourget--
How do you say?

Put a spanner in the works.

Yes, I can't believe I did that.

And then Mme. Otterbourne.

It's so dreadfully easy
killing people,

M. Poirot.

You begin to feel
that it doesn't matter.

That evening in the grounds
of the hotel

when you said
that you saw someone...

there was no person there,
was there?

Just a little red herring
to keep you on your toes.

Do you remember when I said
I must follow my star?

It's finally burnt out,
hasn't it?

M. Pennington, you must be happy
to return home.

I'm not sure
I've got a home to go to.

But thanks for asking.

- I'm sure he'll get by.
- Oui.

Mademoiselle.

M. Poirot, wonderful news.

I've decided to get married.

Oh, news that is most wonderful,
indeed, mademoiselle.

Who is the lucky man?

Dr. Bessner.

Bessner?

He asked me last night.

He's so kind,

and he says I can help him
in his work.

He's going to teach me
all about neuroses.

May I offer you my
congratulations, mademoiselle?

Thank you.

POIROT: Have you told this news
to your cousin?

Oh, yes.
She's absolutely thrilled.

And, Dr. Bessner,

I offer you
my congratulations, also.

Danke Schn.
We are very happy.

Yes.

I am sorry.

Yes, well,
I'm not very experienced

in these matters, you see?

I thought I'd struck gold.

Ah, it happens, M. Ferguson...

more often than one
might suppose.

Goodbye.

POIROT:
Au revoir.

FERGUSON:
Colonel.

Who would have thought
it would come to this?

It was you, mademoiselle,
who said that life was unfair.

Hello, Simon.

I messed up again, didn't I?

Confessed the lot.
I'm sorry.

It's a fool's game, my darling,
and we've lost.

That's all.

Please, may I kiss him?

I'm not sure
I'll get another chance.

Goodbye, my darling.

You know how much I love you.

Goodbye.

[ Gunshots ]

Where the devil
did she get that?

She had two of them.

She slipped it into
your handbag, mademoiselle,

on the day of the search,

and retrieved it later
when she visited your cabin.

RACE:
You knew?

It is not always that simple.

♪ Love is the sweetest thing ♪

♪ What else on earth
could ever bring ♪

♪ Such happiness to everything ♪

♪ As love's old story? ♪

♪ Whatever hearts may desire ♪

♪ Whatever life may send ♪

♪ This is the tale
that never will tire ♪

♪ This is the song without end ♪

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