Destination Unknown - Agatha Christie [57]
Leblanc was questioning the Moroccan in a rapid exchange of Arabic. Finally he turned to Jessop.
‘I make my apologies, mon cher collègue,’ he said. ‘This pearl was found at a distance of nearly half a mile from the flaming plane.’
‘Which shows,’ said Jessop, ‘that Olive Betterton was a survivor, and that though seven people left Fez in the plane and seven charred bodies were found, one of those charred bodies was definitely not hers.’
‘We extend the search now,’ said Leblanc. He spoke again to the Berber and the man who had brought him in. ‘He will be handsomely rewarded as promised,’ said Leblanc, ‘and there will be a hunt now all over the countryside for these pearls. They have hawk eyes, these people, and the knowledge that these are worth good money in reward will pass round like a grapevine. I think–I think, mon cher collègue, that we shall get results! If only they have not tumbled to what she was doing.’
Jessop shook his head.
‘It would be such a natural occurrence,’ he said. ‘The sudden breaking of a necklace of costume jewellery such as most women wear, the picking up apparently of what loose pearls she can find and stuffing them into her pocket, then a little hole in the pocket. Besides, why should they suspect her? She is Olive Betterton, anxious to join her husband.’
‘We must review this matter in a new light,’ said Leblanc. He drew the passenger list towards him. ‘Olive Betterton. Dr Barron,’ he said, ticking off the two names. ‘Two at least who are going–wherever they are going. The American woman, Mrs Calvin Baker. As to her we keep an open mind. Torquil Ericsson you say has read papers before the Royal Society. The American, Peters, was described on his passport as a research chemist. The religieuse–well, it would make a good disguise. In fact, a whole cargo of people cleverly shepherded from different points to travel in that one plane on that particular day. And then the plane is discovered in flames and inside it the requisite number of charred bodies. How did they manage that, I wonder? Enfin, c’est colossal!’
‘Yes,’ said Jessop. ‘It was the final convincing touch. But we know now that six or seven people have started off on a fresh journey, and we know where their point of departure is. What do we do next–visit the spot?’
‘But precisely,’ said Leblanc. ‘We take up advanced headquarters. If I mistake not, now that we are on the track, other evidence will come to light.’
‘If our calculations are exact,’ Jessop said, ‘there should be results.’
The calculations were many and devious. The rate of progress of a car, the likely distance where it would refuel, possible villages where travellers might have stayed the night. The tracks were many and confusing, disappointments were continual, but every now and then there came a positive result.
‘Voilà, mon capitaine! A search of the latrines, as you ordered. In a dark corner of the latrine a pearl embedded in a little piece of chewing-gum in the house of one Abdul Mohammed. He and his sons have been interrogated. At first they denied, but at last they have confessed. A carload of six people said to be from the German archæological expedition spent a night at his house. Much money was paid, and they were not to mention this to anyone, the excuse being that there was some illicit digging in prospect. Children in the village of El Kaif also have brought in two more pearls. We know now the direction. There is more, Monsieur le Capitaine. The hand of Fatima has been seen as you foretold. This type here, he will tell you about it.’
‘This type’ was a particularly wild-looking Berber.
‘I was with my flocks,’ he said, ‘at night and I heard a car. It passed me and as it did so I saw the sign. The hand of Fatima was outlined on one side of it. It gleamed, I tell you, in the darkness.’
‘The application of phosphorus on a glove can be very efficacious,’ murmured Leblanc. ‘I congratulate you, mon cher, on that idea.’
‘It’s effective,’ said Jessop, ‘but it’s dangerous. It’s too easily