zabiks.cc 
She rose. Poirot opened the door for her and she marched out.The eyes of the two men met.
"That's her story," said Race, "and she's going to stick to it! It may be true. I don't know. But - Rosalie Otterbourne? I hadn't expected that."Poirot shook his head in a perplexed manner. Then he brought down his hand on the table with a sudden bang."But it does not make sense," he cried. "Nom d'un nom d'un nom! It does not make sense."Race looked at him.
"What do you mean exactly?"
"I mean that up to a point it is all the clear sailing. Someone wished to kill zhaiyuedu.com Doyle. Someone overheard the scene in the saloon last night. Someone sneaked in there and retrieved the pistol - Jacqueline de Bellefort's pistol, remember. Somebody shot zhaiyuedu.com Doyle with that pistol and wrote the letter J on the wall... All so clear, is it not? All pointing to Jacqueline de Bellefort as the murderess. And then what does the murderer do. Leave the pistol - the damning pistol - Jacqueline de Bellefort's pistol, for everyone to find? No, he - or she - throws the pistol, that particularly damning bit of evidence, overboard. Why, my friend, why?"Race shook his head. "It's odd.""It is more than odd - it is impossible!""Not impossible, since it happened?""I do not mean that. I mean that the sequence of events is impossible. Something is wrong."Chapter 16
Colonel Race glanced curiously at his colleague. He respected - he had reason to respect - the brain of Hercule Poirot. Yet for the moment he did not follow the other's process of thought. He asked no question, however. He seldom did ask questions. He proceeded straightforwardly with the matter in hand."What's the next thing to be done? Question the Otterbourne girl?""Yes, that may advance us a little."Rosalie Otterbourne entered ungraciously. She did not look nervous or frightened in any way - merely unwilling and sulky."Well," she asked, "what is it?"Race was the spokesman.
"We're investigating Mrs Doyle's death," he explained.Rosalie nodded.
"Will you tell me what you did last night?"Rosalie reflected a minute.
"Mother and I went to bed early - before eleven. We didn't hear anything in particular, except a bit of fuss outside Dr Bessner's cabin. I heard the old man's German voice booming away. Of course I didn't know want it was all about till this morning.""You didn't hear a shot?"
"No."
"Did you leave your cabin at all last night?""No."
"You are quite sure of that?"Rosalie stared at him.
"What do you mean? Of course I'm sure of it.""You did not, for instance, go round to the starboard side of the boat and throw something overboard?"The colour rose in her face.
"Is there any rule against throwing things overboard?""No, of course not. Then you did?""No, I didn't. I never left my cabin, I tell you.""Then if anyone says that they saw you -"She interrupted him. "Who says they saw me?""Miss Van Schuyler."
"Miss Van Schuyler?" She sounded genuinely astonished."Yes. Miss Van Schuyler says she looked out of her cabin and saw you throw something over the side."Rosalie said clearly, "That's a damned lie."Then, as though struck by a sudden thought, she asked, "What time was this?"It was Poirot who answered.
"It was ten minutes past one, Mademoiselle."She nodded her head thoughtfully. "Did she see anything else?"Poirot looked at her curiously. He stroked his chin."See - no," he replied, "but she heard something.""What did she hear?"
"Someone moving about in Madame Doyle's cabin."
