"Yes. But let's go on. Neither of those categories fits the Grey girl. As far as she's concerned, motive seems unlikely; chances of getting the poison, poor. Actual possibility of doing the blowpipe act very doubtful indeed - almost impossible. See here."

The three men bent over the plan.

"Here's No. 16," said Japp. "And here's No. 2 where Giselle was sitting, with a lot of people and seats intervening. If the girl didn't move from her seat - and everybody says she didn't - she couldn't possibly have aimed the thorn to catch Giselle on the side of the neck. I think we can take it she's pretty well out of it.

"Now then, No. 12, opposite. That's the dentist, Norman Gale. Very much the same applies to him. Small fry. I suppose he'd have a slightly better chance of getting hold of snake venom."

"It is not an injection favored by dentists," murmured Poirot gently. "It would be a case of kill rather than cure."

"A dentist has enough fun with his patients as it is," said Japp, grinning. "Still, I suppose he might move in circles where you could get access to some funny business in drugs. He might have a scientific friend. But as regards possibility, he's pretty well out of it. He did leave his seat, but only to go to the wash room - that's in the opposite direction. On his way back to his seat he couldn't be farther than the gangway here, and to shoot off a thorn from a blowpipe so as to catch the old lady in the neck, he'd have to have a kind of pet thorn that would do tricks and make a right-angle turn. So he's pretty well out of it."

"I agree," said Fournier. "Let us proceed."

"We'll cross the gangway now. No. 17."

"That was my seat originary," said Poirot. "I yielded it to one of the ladies, since she desired to be near her friend."

"That's the Honorable Venetia. Well, what about her? She's a big bug. She might have borrowed from Giselle. Doesn't look as though she had any guilty secrets in her life, but perhaps she pulled a horse in a point to point, or whatever they call it. We'll have to pay a little attention to her. The position's possible. If Giselle had got her head turned a little, looking out of the window, the Honorable Venetia could take a sporting shot - or do you call it a sporting puff? - diagonally across down the car, it would be a bit of a fluke, though. I rather think she'd have to stand up to do it. She's the sort of woman who goes out with the guns in the autumn. I don't know whether shooting with a gun is any help to you with a native blowpipe. I suppose it's a question of eye just the same. Eye and practice. And she's probably got friends - men - who've been big-game hunters in odd parts of the globe. She might have got hold of some queer native stuff that way. What balderdash it all sounds, though! It doesn't make sense."