He thought he saw her difficulty. From her point of view there could be only two explanations of his presence on the boat: either his claim to be travelling first class on the Orient Express had been a pretentious lie intended to impress her-in which case he would have very little money-or he had somehow discovered that she was travelling on the boat, and had abandoned the luxury of the Orient Express in order to pursue her-in which case he would probably have plenty of money. He had a sudden absurd desire to startle her with the truth.
“Very well,” he said. “I am travelling this way to avoid someone who is trying to shoot me.”
She stopped dead. “I think it is too cold out here,” she said calmly. “I shall go in.”
He was so surprised that he laughed.
She turned on him quickly. “You should not make such stupid jokes.”
There was no doubt about it; she was genuinely angry. He held up his bandaged hand. “A bullet grazed it.”
She frowned. “You are very bad. If you have hurt your hand I am sorry, but you should not make jokes about it. It is very dangerous.”
“Dangerous!”
“You will have bad luck, and so shall I. It is very bad luck to joke in that way.”
“Oh, I see.” He grinned. “I am not superstitious.”