‘Why, you see it ever so much better now!’ she exclaimed. ‘All those enemies having their heads cut off by the King – they just stand right out. That’s a cute kind of castle there that I never noticed before. I wish Dr Bessner was here, he’d tell me what it was.’

‘How you can stand that old fool beats me,’ said Ferguson gloomily.

‘Why, he’s just one of the kindest men I’ve ever met.’

‘Pompous old bore.’

‘I don’t think you ought to speak that way.’

The young man gripped her suddenly by the arm. They were just emerging from the temple into the moonlight.

‘Why do you stick being bored by fat old men – and bullied and snubbed by a vicious old harridan?’

‘Why, Mr Ferguson!’

‘Haven’t you got any spirit? Don’t you know you’re just as good as she is?’

‘But I’m not!’ Cornelia spoke with honest conviction.

‘You’re not as rich; that’s all you mean.’

‘No, it isn’t. Cousin Marie’s very cultured, and-’

‘Cultured!’ The young man let go of her arm as suddenly as he had taken it. ‘That word makes me sick.’

Cornelia looked at him in alarm.

‘She doesn’t like you talking to me, does she?’ said the young man.

Cornelia blushed and looked embarrassed.

‘Why? Because she thinks I’m not her social equal! Pah! Doesn’t that make you see red?’

Cornelia faltered out:

‘I wish you wouldn’t get so mad about things.’

‘Don’t you realize – and you an American – that everyone is born free and equal?’

‘They’re not,’ said Cornelia with calm certainty.

‘My good girl, it’s part of your constitution!’

‘Cousin Marie says politicians aren’t gentlemen,’ said Cornelia. ‘And of course people aren’t equal. It doesn’t make sense. I know I’m kind of homely looking, and I used to feel mortified about it sometimes, but I’ve got over that. I’d like to have been born elegant and beautiful like Mrs Doyle, but I wasn’t, so I guess it’s no use worrying.’

‘Mrs Doyle!’ exclaimed Ferguson with deep contempt. ‘She’s the sort of woman who ought to be shot as an example.’

Cornelia looked at him anxiously.

‘I believe it’s your digestion,’ she said kindly. ‘I’ve got a special kind of pepsin that Cousin Marie tried once. Would you like to try it?’

Mr Ferguson said:

‘You’re impossible!’

He turned and strode away. Cornelia went on towards the boat. Just as she was crossing onto the gangway he caught her up once more.

‘You’re the nicest person on the boat,’ he said. ‘And mind you remember it.’

Blushing with pleasure Cornelia repaired to the observation saloon. Miss Van Schuyler was conversing with Dr Bessner – an agreeable conversation dealing with certain royal patients of his.

Cornelia said guiltily:

‘I do hope I haven’t been a long time, Cousin Marie.’

Glancing at her watch, the old lady snapped:

‘You haven’t exactly hurried, my dear. And what have you done with my velvet stole?’

Cornelia looked round.

‘Shall I see if it’s in the cabin, Cousin Marie?’

‘Of course it isn’t! I had it just after dinner in here, and I haven’t moved out of the place. It was on that chair.’

Cornelia made a desultory search.

‘I can’t see it anywhere, Cousin Marie.’

‘Nonsense,’ said Miss Van Schuyler. ‘Look about.’

It was an order such as one might give to a dog, and in her doglike fashion Cornelia obeyed. The quiet Mr Fanthorp, who was sitting at a table near by, rose and assisted her. But the stole could not be found.

The day had been such an unusually hot and sultry one that most people had retired early after going ashore to view the temple. The Doyles were playing bridge with Pennington and Race at a table in a corner. The only other occupant of the saloon was Hercule Poirot, who was yawning his head off at a small table near the door.