Chapter 19 7

Mrs. Elleton, who looked elegant and luxurious in a black trimmed evening dress, stepped down two decks and came to the door of the dining room, just in time to meet her son. "I'm so sorry, baby. I think I'm going to be late." "I don't know where our seats are." Small dining tables were lined up in the hall.Mrs. Elleton stopped and waited for the bellboy to greet them. "By the way," she added, "I have invited the little Mr. Poirot to sit with us." "Mom, you are!" Tim looked a little unhappy. Mrs. Elleton stared in wonder at her son, who was always easygoing.

"Honey, do you mind?" "Yes, I mind. He's a vulgar little fellow!" "Oh no, Tim! You can't say that." "Anyway, why should we be with a stranger? In this little boat, such a thing is a nuisance, and he'll haunt us all day long." "I'm sorry, darling," said Mrs. Elleton, somewhat disappointed. "I thought you would like the arrangement. Mr. Bai must have had many interesting experiences, and you have always loved detective novels." Tim grunted, "I hope you don't come up with such a good idea, Mom. I guess it's impossible to get rid of him now?"

"Well, Tim, that's the way it is." "Okay, let's bear with it!" At this moment, the waiter came and ushered them to their seats.Mrs. Elleton followed suspiciously.Tim has always been so easy-going and doesn't lose his temper easily, and his attitude today is not at all like him.Although he has always disliked the British—nor trusting foreigners—Tim is by no means a regional or nationalist.Alas, she sighed to herself.Men are so elusive!Even the closest people are so confused. They had just sat down when Poirot stepped quietly into the dining room and stopped at the third chair at the table.

"Mrs. Elleton, am I really welcome to join?" "Of course you are welcome. Sit down, M. Poirot." "You are so kind!" As Poirot sat down, he cast a quick glance at Tim, who could not conceal his indifference. Mrs. Elleton was disturbed.In order to ease the atmosphere, while drinking soup, she casually picked up the passenger list beside the plate. "Let's get to know each passenger!" she proposed excitedly. "I think this is very interesting." She began to read: "Mrs. Allerton and Mr. Tim Allerton. What a coincidence. Miss Duberfer. Oh, he was arranged to sit with the Utterborne mother and daughter. I wonder how she would get along with Rosalie." .Who's next? Dr. Bessler. Dr. Bessler? Who knows Dr. Bessler?"

She turned her gaze to the table where three gentlemen sat. "I guess he must be the fat guy with carefully shaved hair and beard. I think he is a German. It seems that he appreciates his soup!" A funny voice came. Mrs. Elleton read on: "Miss Bowles? Shall we take a guess? There are three or four ladies here - well, let her go for now. Mr. and Mrs. Doyle. Yes, this trip The star of the journey. Mrs. Doyle is indeed charming, look at that beautiful dress she is wearing." Tim turned his head away.Lin Na sat at a corner table with her husband and Panchaton.Lin Na was wearing a white dress with a string of pearl necklaces.

"I think it's plain!" said Tim. "A piece of long cloth with a string in the middle." "Honey," said his mother, "this dress is worth eighty guinea miles (the former name of the British gold coin, a guinea equals twenty-one shillings), and you describe it like this, it is really unique." "I just can't figure out why women would spend so much money on clothes," Tim said. Mrs. Elleton continued to study her traveling companions. "Mr. Finthorpe must have been one of the four gentlemen at the table over there. A taciturn young man. A very handsome face, cautious and alert."

Poirot agreed with her. "He's really clever. He doesn't talk, but he listens and observes. Oh, he's such a good use of his eyes that he doesn't look like a loafer. I wonder what he's doing here." "Mr. Ferguson," read Mrs. Elleton. "I guess it must be our anti-capitalist friend. Mrs. Utterburn and Miss Utterburn, we know both. Mr. Pennington! aka Uncle Andrew--a handsome man, I thought—" "Okay, Mom!" Tim said. "I mean he's handsome, but kind of cold," said Mrs. Elleton. "He's harsh. Like the guys in the papers who are in or live in Wall Street. I'm sure he must be rich. The next one—Mr. Hercule Poirot—is a buried genius. Would you like to speak to Mr. Poirot about crime, Tim?"

Her good-natured joke apparently pissed off her son again.He frowned, and Mrs. Elleton hastened to read: "Mr. Richetti, our Italian archaeologist. Miss Robertson and the last--Miss Van Schule. Needless to say, that ugly old American." Lady, she thinks she is the queen of the ship! You have no status, don't expect her to pay you any attention. What a contemptuous old chap! With her must be Miss Bowles and Miss Robertson. With pince-nez The slender woman is probably the secretary, and the other young lady is a poor relation, and she seems to be quite happy in spite of being treated like a nigger. I guess Robertson is the secretary, and Miss Bowers is the poor relation."

"Wrong, Mom!" Tim grinned.Suddenly his good temper came alive again. "how do you know?" "I was wandering about before dinner, and heard the old woman say to her companion, 'Where's Miss Bowles? Call her at once, Cornia.' Cornia ran off like an obedient dog. " "I want to speak to Miss Van Schuyler," said Mrs. Elleton thoughtfully. Tim grinned again. "She'll snub you, Mom." "Never. I'll try to sit next to her and talk to her in a low (but knowledgeable) well-bred voice about any famous relative or friend I can remember. Best mention of your second cousin, The defunct Lord Glasgow. It will probably work."

"Mom, you are really unscrupulous!" After dinner they joined an interesting conversation with an anthropologist. The young Socialist (Ferguson, I guessed rightly) retreated to the smoking room, sniffing at the passengers who gathered in the observation hall on the upper deck. As usual, Miss Van Schuyler chose a place with the best view and good ventilation, and here was the table where Mrs Utterborne had previously sat.She said, "Sorry, I'm sure, oh I thought, I left my sewing here!" Mrs. Utterburn, still under hypnosis, stood up and made room.Miss Fanshule sat down quickly and arranged her seat.Mrs. Utterburn, in her turban, had to sit next to her. She sat talking about various subjects, but received only a few cold, polite replies, and she fell silent.At this moment Miss Vatican sat alone on her throne.

Mr. and Mrs. Doyle with Mrs. Elleton and her son.Dr. Bassler and Mr. Finthorpe's quiet associate.Jaclyn Dubelfer sat reading a book.Rosalie Utterbourne offered to sit down.Once or twice Mrs. Elleton asked her to join their parties, but Rosalie politely declined. Poirot spent the evening listening to Mrs. Utterburn's writing experience.When he returned to the room, he met Jaclyn Dubelfort.She leaned against the rail.When she turned her head, Poirot noticed that her face was full of extreme sadness, instead of the previous indifferent and provocative gesture. "Good night, miss." "Good night, Mr. Poirot." She hesitated a moment, and then said, "Isn't it strange that you should meet me here?" "What I feel is not surprise, but regret—extreme regret..." he said bitterly. "You mean you're sorry for me?" "Exactly, Miss, you chose a dangerous path... When the ferry started our journey, you also embarked on a personal dangerous path--rapid waters, dangerous rocks, dangerous eddies with unpredictable directions..." "why do you say that?" "Because——you have cut off the safety line that was tied to you. I doubt you can turn your head now." She said slowly: "It is indeed..." She looks away. "Ah, everyone has to follow his own star, wherever it leads you..." "Miss, be careful not to be a lost star..." Jaclyn smiled, imitating the words of the donkey kid: "Sir, that's a bad star! That star will fall..." Just as he was about to fall asleep, Poirot was awakened by a murmured voice.It was Simon Doyle's voice, repeating what he had said as the ship sailed: "We have to put things to rest now..." "Yes," Poirot thought to himself, "it must be done now..." He was unhappy.