Murder on the Orient Express

AgathaChristie
MurderontheOrientExpress
AHerculePoirotMystery
ToM.E.L.M.Arpachiya,1933
Contents
Cover
TitlePage
Dedication
PartOne:TheFacts
1.AnImportantPassengerontheTaurusExpress2.TheTokatlianHotel3.PoirotRefusesaCase4.ACryintheNight5.TheCrime6.AWoman?7.TheBody8.TheArmstrongKidnappingCase
PartTwo:TheEvidence
1.TheEvidenceoftheWagonLitConductor2.TheEvidenceoftheSecretary3.TheEvidenceoftheValet4.TheEvidenceoftheAmericanLady
5.TheEvidenceoftheSwedishLady6.TheEvidenceoftheRussianPrincess7.TheEvidenceofCountandCountessAndrenyi8.TheEvidenceofColonelArbuthnot9.TheEvidenceofMr.Hardman10.TheEvidenceoftheItalian11.TheEvidenceofMissDebenham12.TheEvidenceoftheGermanLady’sMaid13.SummaryofthePassengers’Evidence14.TheEvidenceoftheWeapon15.TheEvidenceofthePassengers’Luggage
PartThree:HerculePoirotSitsBackandThinks
1.WhichofThem?2.TenQuestions3.CertainSuggestivePoints4.TheGreaseSpotonaHungarianPassport5.TheChristianNameofPrincessDragomiroff6.ASecondInterviewwithColonelArbuthnot7.TheIdentityofMaryDebenham8.FurtherSurprisingRevelations9.PoirotPropoundsTwoSolutionsAbouttheAuthorOtherBooksbyAgathaChristieCopyrightAboutthePublisherPARTONE
THEFACTS
One
ANIMPORTANTPASSENGERONTHETAURUSEXPRESS
Itwasfiveo’clockonawinter’smorninginSyria.AlongsidetheplatformatAleppostoodthetraingrandlydesignatedinrailwayguidesastheTaurusExpress.Itconsistedofakitchenanddiningcar,asleepingcarandtwolocalcoaches.
BythestepleadingupintothesleepingcarstoodayoungFrenchlieutenant,resplendentinuniform,conversingwithasmallleanman,muffleduptotheears,ofwhomnothingwasvisiblebutapink-tippednoseandthetwopointsofanupwardcurledmoustache.
Itwasfreezinglycold,andthisjobofseeingoffadistinguishedstrangerwasnotonetobeenvied,butLieutenantDuboscperformedhispartmanfully.GracefulphrasesfellfromhislipsinpolishedFrench.Notthatheknewwhatitwasallabout.Therehadbeenrumours,ofcourse,astherealwayswereinsuchcases.TheGeneral—hisGeneral’s—temperhadgrownworseandworse.AndthentherehadcomethisBelgianstranger—allthewayfromEngland,itseemed.Therehadbeenaweek—aweekofcurioustensity.Andthencertainthingshadhappened.Averydistinguishedofficerhadcommittedsuicide,anotherhadresigned—anxiousfaceshadsuddenlylosttheiranxiety,certainmilitaryprecautionswererelaxed.AndtheGeneral—LieutenantDubosc’sownparticularGeneral—hadsuddenlylookedtenyearsyounger.
Duboschadoverheardpartofaconversationbetweenhimandthestranger.“Youhavesavedus,moncher,”saidtheGeneralemotionally,hisgreatwhitemoustachetremblingashespoke.“YouhavesavedthehonouroftheFrenchArmy—youhaveavertedmuchbloodshed!HowcanIthankyouforaccedingtomyrequest?Tohavecomesofar—”
Towhichthestranger(bynameM.HerculePoirot)hadmadeafittingreplyincludingthephrase,“ButindeeddoInotrememberthatonceyousavedmylife?”AndthentheGeneralhadmadeanotherfittingreplytothatdisclaiminganymeritforthatpastservice,andwithmorementionofFrance,ofBelgium,ofglory,ofhonourandofsuchkindredthingstheyhadembracedeachotherheartilyandtheconversationhadended.
Astowhatithadallbeenabout,LieutenantDuboscwasstillinthedark,buttohimhadbeendelegatedthedutyofseeingoffM.PoirotbytheTaurusExpress,andhewascarryingitoutwithallthezealandardourbefittingayoungofficerwithapromisingcareeraheadofhim.
“TodayisSunday,”saidLieutenantDubosc.“Tomorrow,Mondayevening,youwillbeinStamboul.”
Itwasnotthefirsttimehehadmadethisobservation.Conversationsontheplatform,beforethedepartureofatrain,areapttobesomewhatrepetitiveincharacter.
“Thatisso,”agreedM.Poirot.
“Andyouintendtoremainthereafewdays,Ithink?”
“Maisoui.Stamboul,itisacityIhavenevervisited.Itwouldbeapitytopassthrough—comme?a.”Hesnappedhisfingersdescriptively.“Nothingpresses—Ishallremainthereasatouristforafewdays.”
“LaSainteSophie,itisveryfine,”saidLieutenantDubosc,whohadneverseenit.
Acoldwindcamewhistlingdowntheplatform.Bothmenshivered.LieutenantDuboscmanagedtocastasurreptitiousglanceathiswatch.Fiveminutestofive—onlyfiveminutesmore!
Fancyingthattheothermanhadnoticedhissurreptitiousglance,hehastenedoncemoreintospeech.
“Therearefewpeopletravellingthistimeofyear,”hesaid,glancingupatthewindowsofthesleepingcarabovethem.
“Thatisso,”agreedM.Poirot.
“LetushopeyouwillnotbesnowedupintheTaurus!”
“Thathappens?”
“Ithasoccurred,yes.Notthisyear,asyet.”
“Letushope,then,”saidM.Poirot.“TheweatherreportsfromEurope,theyarebad.”
“Verybad.IntheBalkansthereismuchsnow.”
“InGermanytoo,Ihaveheard.”
“Ehbien,”saidLieutenantDuboschastilyasanotherpauseseemedtobeabouttooccur.“Tomorroweveningatseven-fortyyouwillbeinConstantinople.”
“Yes,”saidM.Poirot,andwentondesperately,“LaSainteSophie,Ihavehearditisveryfine.”
“Magnificent,Ibelieve.”
Abovetheirheadstheblindofoneofthesleepingcarcompartmentswaspushedasideandayoungwomanlookedout.
MaryDebenhamhadhadlittlesleepsincesheleftBaghdadontheprecedingThursday.NeitherinthetraintoKirkuk,norintheRestHouseatMosul,norlastnightonthetrainhadshesleptproperly.Now,wearyoflyingwakefulinthehotstuffinessofheroverheatedcompartment,shegotupandpeeredout.
ThismustbeAleppo.Nothingtosee,ofcourse.Justalong,poor-lightedplatformwithloudfuriousaltercationsinArabicgoingonsomewhere.TwomenbelowherwindowweretalkingFrench.OnewasaFrenchofficer,theotherwasalittlemanwithenormousmoustaches.Shesmiledfaintly.Shehadneverseenanyonequitesoheavilymuffledup.Itmustbeverycoldoutside.Thatwaswhytheyheatedthetrainsoterribly.Shetriedtoforcethewindowdownlower,butitwouldnotgo.
TheWagonLitconductorhadcomeuptothetwomen.Thetrainwasabouttodepart,hesaid.Monsieurhadbettermount.Thelittlemanremovedhishat.Whatanegg-shapedheadhehad.InspiteofherpreoccupationsMaryDebenhamsmiled.Aridiculous-lookinglittleman.Thesortoflittlemanonecouldnevertakeseriously.
LieutenantDuboscwassayinghispartingspeech.Hehadthoughtitoutbeforehandandhadkeptittillthelastminute.Itwasaverybeautiful,polishedspeech.
Nottobeoutdone,M.Poirotrepliedinkind.
“Envoiture,Monsieur,”saidtheWagonLitconductor.
WithanairofinfinitereluctanceM.Poirotclimbedaboardthetrain.Theconductorclimbedafterhim.M.Poirotwavedhishand.LieutenantDubosccametothesalute.Thetrain,withaterrificjerk,movedslowlyforward.
“Enfin!”murmuredM.HerculePoirot.
“Brrrrr,”saidLieutenantDubosc,realizingtothefullhowcoldhewas….
II
“Voilà,Monsieur.”TheconductordisplayedtoPoirotwithadramaticgesturethebeautyofhissleepingcompartmentandtheneatarrangementofhisluggage.“ThelittlevaliseofMonsieur,Ihaveplacedithere.”
Hisoutstretchedhandwassuggestive.HerculePoirotplacedinitafoldednote.
“Merci,Monsieur.”Theconductorbecamebriskandbusinesslike.“IhavetheticketsofMonsieur.Iwillalsotakethepassport,please.MonsieurbreakshisjourneyinStamboul,Iunderstand?”
M.Poirotassented.
“Therearenotmanypeopletravelling,Iimagine?”hesaid.
“No,Monsieur.Ihaveonlytwootherpassengers—bothEnglish.AColonelfromIndia,andayoungEnglishladyfromBaghdad.Monsieurrequiresanything?”
MonsieurdemandedasmallbottleofPerrier.
Fiveo’clockinthemorningisanawkwardtimetoboardatrain.Therewasstilltwohoursbeforedawn.Consciousofaninadequatenight’ssleep,andofadelicatemissionsuccessfullyaccomplished,M.Poirotcurledupinacornerandfellasleep.
Whenheawokeitwashalf-pastnine,andhesalliedforthtotherestaurantcarinsearchofhotcoffee.
Therewasonlyoneoccupantatthemoment,obviouslytheyoungEnglishladyreferredtobytheconductor.Shewastall,slimanddark—perhapstwenty-eightyearsofage.Therewasakindofcoolefficiencyinthewayshewaseatingherbreakfastandinthewayshecalledtotheattendanttobringhermorecoffee,whichbespokeaknowledgeoftheworldandoftravelling.Sheworeadark-colouredtravellingdressofsomethinmaterialeminentlysuitablefortheheatedatmosphereofthetrain.
M.HerculePoirot,havingnothingbettertodo,amusedhimselfbystudyingherwithoutappearingtodoso.
Shewas,hejudged,thekindofyoungwomanwhocouldtakecareofherselfwithperfecteasewherevershewent.Shehadpoiseandefficiency.Heratherlikedthesevereregularityofherfeaturesandthedelicatepallorofherskin.Helikedtheburnishedblackheadwithitsneatwavesofhair,andhereyes,cool,impersonalandgrey.Butshewas,hedecided,justalittletooefficienttobewhathecalled“joliefemme.”
Presentlyanotherpersonenteredtherestaurantcar.Thiswasatallmanofbetweenfortyandfifty,leanoffigure,brownofskin,withhairslightlygrizzledroundthetemples.
“ThecolonelfromIndia,”saidPoirottohimself.
Thenewcomergavealittlebowtothegirl.
“Morning,MissDebenham.”
“Goodmorning,ColonelArbuthnot.”
TheColonelwasstandingwithahandonthechairoppositeher.
“Anyobjection?”heasked.
“Ofcoursenot.Sitdown.”
“Well,youknow,breakfastisn’talwaysachattymeal.”
“Ishouldhopenot.ButIdon’tbite.”
TheColonelsatdown.
“Boy,”hecalledinperemptoryfashion.
Hegaveanorderforeggsandcoffee.
HiseyesrestedforamomentonHerculePoirot,buttheypassedonindifferently.Poirot,readingtheEnglishmindcorrectly,knewthathehadsaidtohimself,“Onlysomedamnedforeigner.”
Truetotheirnationality,thetwoEnglishpeoplewerenotchatty.Theyexchangedafewbriefremarks,andpresentlythegirlroseandwentbacktohercompartment.
Atlunchtimetheothertwoagainsharedatableandagaintheybothcompletelyignoredthethirdpassenger.Theirconversationwasmoreanimatedthanatbreakfast.ColonelArbuthnottalkedofthePunjab,andoccasionallyaskedthegirlafewquestionsaboutBaghdadwhereitbecameclearthatshehadbeeninapostasgoverness.Inthecourseofconversationtheydiscoveredsomemutualfriendswhichhadtheimmediateeffectofmakingthemmorefriendlyandlessstiff.TheydiscussedoldTommySomebodyandJerrySomeoneElse.TheColonelinquiredwhethershewasgoingstraightthroughtoEnglandorwhethershewasstoppinginStamboul.
“No,I’mgoingstraighton.”
“Isn’tthatratherapity?”
“IcameoutthiswaytwoyearsagoandspentthreedaysinStamboulthen.”
“Oh,Isee.Well,ImaysayI’mverygladyouaregoingrightthrough,becauseIam.”
Hemadeakindofclumsylittlebow,flushingalittleashedidso.
“Heissusceptible,ourColonel,”thoughtHerculePoirottohimselfwithsomeamusement.“Thetrain,itisasdangerousasaseavoyage!”
MissDebenhamsaidevenlythatthatwouldbeverynice.Hermannerwasslightlyrepressive.
TheColonel,HerculePoirotnoticed,accompaniedherbacktohercompartment.LatertheypassedthroughthemagnificentsceneryoftheTaurus.AstheylookeddowntowardstheCilicianGates,standinginthecorridorsidebyside,asighcamesuddenlyfromthegirl.Poirotwasstandingnearthemandheardhermurmur:
“It’ssobeautiful!Iwish—Iwish—”
“Yes?”
“Iwish,Icouldenjoyit!”
Arbuthnotdidnotanswer.Thesquarelineofhisjawseemedalittlesternerandgrimmer.
“IwishtoHeavenyouwereoutofallthis,”hesaid.
“Hush,please.Hush.”
“Oh!it’sallright.”HeshotaslightlyannoyedglanceinPoirot’sdirection.Thenhewenton:“ButIdon’tliketheideaofyourbeingagoverness—atthebeckandcalloftyrannicalmothersandtheirtiresomebrats.”
Shelaughedwithjustahintofuncontrolinthesound.
“Oh!youmustn’tthinkthat.Thedowntroddengovernessisquiteanexplodedmyth.Icanassureyouthatit’stheparentswhoareafraidofbeingbulliedbyme.”
Theysaidnomore.Arbuthnotwas,perhaps,ashamedofhisoutburst.
“RatheranoddlittlecomedythatIwatchhere,”saidPoirottohimselfthoughtfully.
Hewastorememberthatthoughtofhislater.
TheyarrivedatKonyathatnightabouthalf-pasteleven.ThetwoEnglishtravellersgotouttostretchtheirlegs,pacingupanddownthesnowyplatform.
M.Poirotwascontenttowatchtheteemingactivityofthestationthroughawindowpane.Afterabouttenminutes,however,hedecidedthatabreathofairwouldnotperhapsbeabadthing,afterall.Hemadecarefulpreparations,wrappinghimselfinseveralcoatsandmufflersandencasinghisneatbootsingoloshes.Thusattiredhedescendedgingerlytotheplatformandbegantopaceitslength.Hewalkedoutbeyondtheengine.
Itwasthevoiceswhichgavehimthecluetothetwoindistinctfiguresstandingintheshadowofatrafficvan.Arbuthnotwasspeaking.
“Mary—”
Thegirlinterruptedhim.
“Notnow.Notnow.Whenit’sallover.Whenit’sbehindus—then—”
DiscreetlyM.Poirotturnedaway.Hewondered.
Hewouldhardlyhaverecognizedthecool,efficientvoiceofMissDebenham….
“Curious,”hesaidtohimself.
Thenextdayhewonderedwhether,perhaps,theyhadquarrelled.Theyspokelittletoeachother.Thegirl,hethought,lookedanxious.Thereweredarkcirclesunderhereyes.
Itwasabouthalf-pasttwointheafternoonwhenthetraincametoahalt.Headswerepokedoutofwindows.Alittleknotofmenwereclusteredbythesideofthelinelookingandpointingatsomethingunderthediningcar.
PoirotleanedoutandspoketotheWagonLitconductorwhowashurryingpast.ThemanansweredandPoirotdrewbackhisheadand,turning,almostcollidedwithMaryDebenhamwhowasstandingjustbehindhim.
“Whatisthematter?”sheaskedratherbreathlesslyinFrench.“Whyarewestopping?”
“Itisnothing,Mademoiselle.Itissomethingthathascaughtfireunderthediningcar.Nothingserious.Itisputout.Theyarenowrepairingthedamage.Thereisnodanger,Iassureyou.”
Shemadealittleabruptgesture,asthoughshewerewavingtheideaofdangerasideassomethingcompletelyunimportant.
“Yes,yes,Iunderstandthat.Butthetime!”
“Thetime?”
“Yes,thiswilldelayus.”
“Itispossible—yes,”agreedPoirot.
“Butwecan’tafforddelay!Thetrainisdueinat6:55andonehastocrosstheBosphorusandcatchtheSimplonOrientExpresstheothersideatnineo’clock.Ifthereisanhourortwoofdelayweshallmisstheconnection.”
“Itispossible,yes,”headmitted.
Helookedathercuriously.Thehandthatheldthewindowbarwasnotquitesteady,herlipstooweretrembling.
“Doesitmattertoyouverymuch,Mademoiselle?”heasked.
“Yes.Yes,itdoes.I—Imustcatchthattrain.”
SheturnedawayfromhimandwentdownthecorridortojoinColonelArbuthnot.
Heranxiety,however,wasneedless.Tenminuteslaterthetrainstartedagain.ItarrivedatHaydapassaronlyfiveminuteslate,havingmadeuptimeonthejourney.
TheBosphoruswasroughandM.Poirotdidnotenjoythecrossing.Hewasseparatedfromhistravellingcompanionsontheboat,anddidnotseethemagain.
OnarrivalattheGalataBridgehedrovestraighttotheTokatlianHotel.
Two
THETOKATLIANHOTEL
AttheTokatlian,HerculePoirotaskedforaroomwithbath.Thenhesteppedovertotheconcierge’sdeskandinquiredforletters.
Therewerethreewaitingforhimandatelegram.Hiseyebrowsrosealittleatthesightofthetelegram.Itwasunexpected.
Heopeneditinhisusualneat,unhurriedfashion.Theprintedwordsstoodoutclearly.
“DevelopmentyoupredictedinKassnerCasehascomeunexpectedlypleasereturnimmediately.”
“Voilàcequiestembêtant,”murmuredPoirotvexedly.Heglancedupattheclock.
“Ishallhavetogoontonight,”hesaidtotheconcierge.“AtwhattimedoestheSimplonOrientleave?”
“Atnineo’clock,Monsieur.”
“Canyougetmeasleeper?”
“Assuredly,Monsieur.Thereisnodifficultythistimeofyear.Thetrainsarealmostempty.First-classorsecond?”
“First.”
“Trèsbien,Monsieur.Howfarareyougoing?”
“ToLondon.”
“Bien,Monsieur.IwillgetyouatickettoLondonandreserveyoursleepingcaraccommodationintheStamboul-Calaiscoach.”
Poirotglancedattheclockagain.Itwastenminutestoeight.
“Ihavetimetodine?”
“Butassuredly,Monsieur.”
ThelittleBelgiannodded.Hewentoverandcancelledhisroomorderandcrossedthehalltotherestaurant.
Ashewasgivinghisordertothewaiterahandwasplacedonhisshoulder.
“Ah!monvieux,butthisisanunexpectedpleasure,”saidavoicebehindhim.
Thespeakerwasashort,stoutelderlyman,hishaircutenbrosse.Hewassmilingdelightedly.
Poirotsprangup.
“M.Bouc.”
“M.Poirot.”
M.BoucwasaBelgian,adirectoroftheCompagnieInternationaledesWagonsLits,andhisacquaintancewiththeformerstaroftheBelgianPoliceForcedatedbackmanyyears.
“Youfindyourselffarfromhome,moncher,”saidM.Bouc.
“AlittleaffairinSyria.”
“Ah!Andyoureturnhome—when?”
“Tonight.”
“Splendid!I,too.Thatistosay,IgoasfarasLausanne,whereIhaveaffairs.YoutravelontheSimplon-Orient,Ipresume?”
“Yes.Ihavejustaskedthemtogetmeasleeper.Itwasmyintentiontoremainheresomedays,butIhavereceivedatelegramrecallingmetoEnglandonimportantbusiness.”
“Ah!”sighedM.Bouc.“Lesaffaires—lesaffaires!Butyou—youareatthetopofthetreenowadays,monvieux!”
“SomelittlesuccessIhavehad,perhaps.”HerculePoirottriedtolookmodestbutfailedsignally.
Bouclaughed.
“Wewillmeetlater,”hesaid.
HerculePoirotaddressedhimselftothetaskofkeepinghismoustachesoutofthesoup.
Thatdifficulttaskaccomplished,heglancedroundhimwhilstwaitingforthenextcourse.Therewereonlyabouthalfadozenpeopleintherestaurant,andofthosehalf-dozentherewereonlytwothatinterestedHerculePoirot.
Thesetwosatatatablenotfaraway.Theyoungerwasalikeable-lookingmanofthirty,clearlyanAmerican.Itwas,however,nothebuthiscompanionwhohadattractedthelittledetective’sattention.
Hewasamanofbetweensixtyandseventy.Fromalittledistancehehadtheblandaspectofaphilanthropist.Hisslightlybaldhead,hisdomedforehead,thesmilingmouththatdisplayedaverywhitesetoffalseteeth,allseemedtospeakofabenevolentpersonality.Onlytheeyesbeliedthisassumption.Theyweresmall,deepsetandcrafty.Notonlythat.Astheman,makingsomeremarktohisyoungcompanion,glancedacrosstheroom,hisgazestoppedonPoirotforamoment,andjustforthatsecondtherewasastrangemalevolence,andunnaturaltensityintheglance.
Thenherose.
“Paythebill,Hector,”hesaid.
Hisvoicewasslightlyhuskyintone.Ithadaqueer,soft,dangerousquality.
WhenPoirotrejoinedhisfriendinthelounge,theothertwomenwerejustleavingthehotel.Theirluggagewasbeingbroughtdown.Theyoungerwassupervisingtheprocess.Presentlyheopenedtheglassdoorandsaid:
“Quitereadynow,Mr.Ratchett.”
Theeldermangruntedanassentandpassedout.
“Ehbien,”saidPoirot.“Whatdoyouthinkofthosetwo?”
“TheyareAmericans,”saidM.Bouc.
“AssuredlytheyareAmericans.Imeantwhatdidyouthinkoftheirpersonalities?”
“Theyoungmanseemedquiteagreeable.”
“Andtheother?”
“Totellyouthetruth,myfriend,Ididnotcareforhim.Heproducedonmeanunpleasantimpression.Andyou?”
HerculePoirotwasamomentbeforereplying.
“Whenhepassedmeintherestaurant,”hesaidatlast,“Ihadacuriousimpression.Itwasasthoughawildanimal—ananimalsavage,butsavage!youunderstand—hadpassedmeby.”
“Andyethelookedaltogetherofthemostrespectable.”
“Précisément!Thebody—thecage—iseverythingofthemostrespectable—butthroughthebars,thewildanimallooksout.”
“Youarefanciful,monvieux,”saidM.Bouc.
“Itmaybeso.ButIcouldnotridmyselfoftheimpressionthatevilhadpassedmebyveryclose.”
“ThatrespectableAmericangentleman?”
“ThatrespectableAmericangentleman.”
“Well,”saidM.Bouccheerfully.“Itmaybeso.Thereismuchevilintheworld.”
Atthatmomentthedooropenedandtheconciergecametowardsthem.Helookedconcernedandapologetic.
“Itisextraordinary,Monsieur,”hesaidtoPoirot.“Thereisnotonefirst-classsleepingberthtobehadonthetrain.”
“Comment?”criedM.Bouc.“Atthistimeofyear?Ah,withoutdoubtthereissomepartyofjournalists—ofpoliticians—?”
“Idon’tknow,sir,”saidtheconcierge,turningtohimrespectfully.“Butthat’showitis.”
“Well,well,”M.BoucturnedtoPoirot.“Havenofear,myfriend.Wewillarrangesomething.Thereisalwaysonecompartment—theNo.16,whichisnotengaged.Theconductorseestothat!”Hesmiled,thenglancedupattheclock.“Come,”hesaid,“itistimewestarted.”
AtthestationM.Boucwasgreetedwithrespectfulempressementbythebrown-uniformedWagonLitconductor.
“Goodevening,Monsieur.YourcompartmentistheNo.1.”
Hecalledtotheportersandtheywheeledtheirloadhalf-wayalongthecarriageonwhichthetinplatesproclaimeditsdestination:
ISTANBULTRIESTECALAIS
“Youarefulluptonight,Ihear?”
“Itisincredible,Monsieur.Alltheworldelectstotraveltonight!”
“Allthesame,youmustfindroomforthisgentlemanhere.Heisafriendofmine.HecanhavetheNo.16.”
“Itistaken,Monsieur.”
“What?TheNo.16?”
Aglanceofunderstandingpassedbetweenthem,andtheconductorsmiled.Hewasatall,sallowmanofmiddleage.
“Butyes,Monsieur.AsItoldyou,wearefull—full—everywhere.”
“Butwhatpassesitself?”demandedM.Boucangrily.“Thereisaconferencesomewhere?Itisaparty?”
“No,Monsieur.Itisonlychance.Itjusthappensthatmanypeoplehaveelectedtotraveltonight.”
M.Boucmadeaclickingsoundofannoyance.
“AtBelgrade,”hesaid,“therewillbetheslipcoachfromAthens.TherewillalsobetheBucharest-Pariscoach—butwedonotreachBelgradeuntiltomorrowevening.Theproblemisfortonight.Thereisnosecond-classberthfree?”
“Thereisasecond-classberth,Monsieur—”
“Well,then—”
“Butitisalady’sberth.ThereisalreadyaGermanwomaninthecompartment—alady’smaid.”
“Là,là,thatisawkward,”saidM.Bouc.
“Donotdistressyourself,myfriend,”saidPoirot.“Imusttravelinanordinarycarriage.”
“Notatall.Notatall.”Heturnedoncemoretotheconductor.“Everyonehasarrived?”
“Itistrue,”saidtheman,“thatthereisonepassengerwhohasnotyetarrived.”
Hespokeslowlywithhesitation.
“Butspeakthen?”
“No.7berth—asecond-class.Thegentlemanhasnotyetcome,anditisfourminutestonine.”
“Whoisit?”
“AnEnglishman,”theconductorconsultedhislist.“AM.Harris.”
“Anameofgoodomen,”saidPoirot.“IreadmyDickens.M.Harris,hewillnotarrive.”
“PutMonsieur’sluggageinNo.7,”saidM.Bouc.“IfthisM.Harrisarriveswewilltellhimthatheistoolate—thatberthscannotberetainedsolong—wewillarrangethematteronewayoranother.WhatdoIcareforaM.Harris?”
“AsMonsieurpleases,”saidtheconductor.
HespoketoPoirot’sporter,directinghimwheretogo.
ThenhestoodasidethestepstoletPoirotenterthetrain.“Toutàfaitaubout,Monsieur,”hecalled.“Theendcompartmentbutone.”
Poirotpassedalongthecorridor,asomewhatslowprogress,asmostofthepeopletravellingwerestandingoutsidetheircarriages.
Hispolite“Pardons”wereutteredwiththeregularityofclockwork.Atlasthereachedthecompartmentindicated.Insideit,reachinguptoasuitcase,wasthetallyoungAmericanoftheTokatlian.
HefrownedasPoirotentered.
“Excuseme,”hesaid.“Ithinkyou’vemadeamistake.”Then,laboriouslyinFrench,“Jecroisquevousavezunerreur.”
PoirotrepliedinEnglish.
“YouareMr.Harris?”
“No,mynameisMacQueen.I—”
ButatthatmomentthevoiceoftheWagonLitconductorspokefromoverPoirot’sshoulder.Anapologetic,ratherbreathlessvoice.
“Thereisnootherberthonthetrain,Monsieur.Thegentlemanhastocomeinhere.”
HewashaulingupthecorridorwindowashespokeandbegantoliftinPoirot’sluggage.
Poirotnoticedtheapologyinhistonewithsomeamusement.Doubtlessthemanhadbeenpromisedagoodtipifhecouldkeepthecompartmentforthesoleuseoftheothertraveller.However,eventhemostmunificentoftipslosetheireffectwhenadirectorofthecompanyisonboardandissueshisorders.
Theconductoremergedfromthecompartment,havingswungthesuitcasesupontotheracks.
“VoilàMonsieur,”hesaid.“Allisarranged.Yoursistheupperberth,thenumber7.Westartinoneminute.”
Hehurriedoffdownthecorridor.Poirotreenteredthecompartment.
“AphenomenonIhaveseldomseen,”hesaidcheerfully.“AWagonLitconductorhimselfputsuptheluggage!Itisunheardof!”
Hisfellowtravellersmiled.Hehadevidentlygotoverhisannoyance—hadprobablydecidedthatitwasnogoodtotakethematterotherthanphilosophically
“Thetrain’sremarkablyfull,”hesaid.
Awhistleblew,therewasalong,melancholycryfromtheengine.Bothmensteppedoutintothecorridor.
Outsideavoiceshouted.
“Envoiture.”
“We’reoff,”saidMacQueen.
Buttheywerenotquiteoff.Thewhistleblewagain.
“Isay,sir,”saidtheyoungmansuddenly,“ifyou’dratherhavethelowerberth—easier,andallthat—well,that’sallrightbyme.”
“No,no,”protestedPoirot.“Iwouldnotdepriveyou—”
“That’sallright—”
“Youaretooamiable—”
Politeprotestsonbothsides.
“Itisforonenightonly,”explainedPoirot.“AtBelgrade—”
“Oh,Isee.You’regettingoutatBelgrade—”
“Notexactly.Yousee—”
Therewasasuddenjerk.Bothmenswungroundtothewindow,lookingoutatthelong,lightedplatformasitslidslowlypastthem.
TheOrientExpresshadstartedonitsthree-days’journeyacrossEurope.
Three
POIROTREFUSESACASE
M.HerculePoirotwasalittlelateinenteringtheluncheon-caronthefollowingday.Hehadrisenearly,breakfastedalmostalone,andhadspentthemorninggoingoverthenotesofthecasethatwasrecallinghimtoLondon.Hehadseenlittleofhistravellingcompanion.
M.Bouc,whowasalreadyseated,gesticulatedagreetingandsummonedhisfriendtotheemptyplaceoppositehim.Poirotsatdownandsoonfoundhimselfinthefavouredpositionofthetablewhichwasservedfirstandwiththechoicestmorsels.Thefood,too,wasunusuallygood.
ItwasnottilltheywereeatingadelicatecreamcheesethatM.Boucallowedhisattentiontowandertomattersotherthannourishment.Hewasatthestageofamealwhenonebecomesphilosophic
“Ah!”hesighed.“IfIhadbutthepenofaBalzac!Iwoulddepictthisscene.”
Hewavedhishand.
“Itisanidea,that,”saidPoirot.
“Ah,youagree?Ithasnotbeendone,Ithink?Andyet—itlendsitselftoromance,myfriend.Allaroundusarepeople,ofallclasses,ofallnationalities,ofallages.Forthreedaysthesepeople,thesestrangerstooneanother,arebroughttogether.Theysleepandeatunderoneroof,theycannotgetawayfromeachother.Attheendofthreedaystheypart,theygotheirseveralways,never,perhaps,toseeeachotheragain.”
“Andyet,”saidPoirot,“supposeanaccident—”
“Ahno,myfriend—”
“Fromyourpointofviewitwouldberegrettable,Iagree.Butneverthelessletusjustforonemomentsupposeit.Then,perhaps,alltheseherearelinkedtogether—bydeath.”
“Somemorewine,”saidM.Bouc,hastilypouringitout.“Youaremorbid,moncher.Itis,perhaps,thedigestion.”
“Itistrue,”agreedPoirot,“thatthefoodinSyriawasnot,perhaps,quitesuitedtomystomach.”
Hesippedhiswine.Then,leaningback,heranhiseyethoughtfullyroundthediningcar.Therewerethirteenpeopleseatedthereand,asM.Bouchadsaid,ofallclassesandnationalities.Hebegantostudythem.
Atthetableoppositethemwerethreemen.Theywere,heguessed,singletravellersgradedandplacedtherebytheunerringjudgmentoftherestaurantattendants.Abig,swarthyItalianwaspickinghisteethwithgusto.Oppositehimaspare,neatEnglishmanhadtheexpressionlessdisapprovingfaceofthewell-trainedservant.NexttotheEnglishmanwasabigAmericaninaloudsuit—possiblyacommercialtraveller.
“You’vegottoputitoverbig,”hewassayinginaloudnasalvoice.
TheItalianremovedhistoothpicktogesticulatewithitfreely.
“Sure,”hesaid.“ThatwhattaIsayalladetime.”
TheEnglishmanlookedoutofthewindowandcoughed.
Poirot’seyepassedon.
Atasmalltable,sittingveryupright,wasoneoftheugliestoldladieshehadeverseen.Itwasanuglinessofdistinction—itfascinatedratherthanrepelled.Shesatveryupright.Roundherneckwasacollarofverylargepearlswhich,improbablethoughitseemed,werereal.Herhandswerecoveredwithrings.Hersablecoatwaspushedbackonhershoulders.Averysmallexpensiveblacktoquewashideouslyunbecomingtotheyellow,toad-likefacebeneathit.
Shewasspeakingnowtotherestaurantattendantinaclear,courteousbutcompletelyautocratictone.
“Youwillbesufficientlyamiabletoplaceinmycompartmentabottleofmineralwaterandalargeglassoforangejuice.YouwillarrangethatIshallhavechickencookedwithoutsaucesfordinnerthisevening—alsosomeboiledfish.”
Theattendantrepliedrespectfullythatitshouldbedone.
Shegaveaslightgraciousnodoftheheadandrose.HerglancecaughtPoirot’sandsweptoverhimwiththenonchalanceoftheuninterestedaristocrat.
“ThatisPrincessDragomiroff,”saidM.Boucinalowtone.“SheisaRussian.HerhusbandrealizedallthismoneybeforetheRevolutionandinvesteditabroad.Sheisextremelyrich.Acosmopolitan.”
Poirotnodded.HehadheardofPrincessDragomiroff.
“Sheisapersonality,”saidM.Bouc.“Uglyassin,butshemakesherselffelt.Youagree?”
Poirotagreed.
AtanotherofthelargetablesMaryDebenhamwassittingwithtwootherwomen.Oneofthemwasatallmiddle-agedwomaninaplaidblouseandtweedskirt.Shehadamassoffadedyellowhairunbecominglyarrangedinalargebun,woreglasses,andhadalong,mild,amiablefaceratherlikeasheep.Shewaslisteningtothethirdwoman,astout,pleasant-faced,elderlywomanwhowastalkinginaslowclearmonotonewhichshowednosignsofpausingforbreathorcomingtoastop.
“…Andsomydaughtersaid,‘Why,’shesaid‘youjustcan’tapplyAmurricanmethodsinthiscountry.It’sjustnaturaltothefolksheretobeindolent,’shesaid.‘Theyjusthaven’tgotanyhustleinthem.’Butallthesameyou’dbesurprisedtoknowwhatourcollegethereisdoing.They’vegottenafinestaffofteachers.Iguessthere’snothinglikeeducation.We’vegottoapplyourWesternidealsandteachtheEasttorecognizethem.Mydaughtersays—”
Thetrainplungedintoatunnel.Thecalmmonotonousvoicewasdrowned.
Atthenexttable,asmallone,satColonelArbuthnot—alone.HisgazewasfixeduponthebackofMaryDebenham’shead.Theywerenotsittingtogether.Yetitcouldeasilyhavebeenmanaged.Why?
Perhaps,Poirotthought,MaryDebenhamhaddemurred.Agovernesslearnstobecareful.Appearancesareimportant.Agirlwithherlivingtogethastobediscreet.
Hisglanceshiftedtotheothersideofthecarriage.Atthefarend,againstthewall,wasamiddle-agedwomandressedinblackwithabroadexpressionlessface.GermanorScandinavian,hethought.ProbablyaGermanlady’smaid.
Afterhercameacoupleleaningforwardandtalkinganimatedlytogether.ThemanworeEnglishclothesofloosetweed—buthewasnotEnglish.ThoughonlythebackofhisheadwasvisibletoPoirot,theshapeofitandthesetoftheshouldersbetrayedhim.Abigman,wellmade.HeturnedhisheadsuddenlyandPoirotsawhisprofile.Averyhandsomemanofthirtyoddwithabigfairmoustache.
Thewomanoppositehimwasameregirl—twentyataguess.Atight-fittinglittleblackcoatandskirt,whitesatinblouse,smallchicblacktoqueperchedatthefashionableoutrageousangle.Shehadabeautifulforeign-lookingface,deadwhiteskin,largebrowneyes,jet-blackhair.Shewassmokingacigaretteinalongholder.Hermanicuredhands
“Elleestjolie—etchic,”murmuredPoirot.“Husbandandwife—eh?”
M.Boucnodded.
“HungarianEmbassy,Ibelieve,”hesaid.“Ahandsomecouple.”
Therewereonlytwomorelunchers—Poirot’sfellowtravellerMacQueenandhisemployerMr.Ratchett.ThelattersatfacingPoirot,andforthesecondtimePoirotstudiedthatunprepossessingface,notingthefalsebenevolenceofthebrowandthesmall,crueleyes.
DoubtlessM.Boucsawachangeinhisfriend’sexpression.
“Itisatyourwildanimalyoulook?”heasked.
Poirotnodded.
Ashiscoffeewasbroughttohim,M.Boucrosetohisfeet.HavingstartedbeforePoirot,hehadfinishedsometimeago.
“Ireturntomycompartment,”hesaid.“Comealongpresentlyandconversewithme.”
“Withpleasure.”
Poirotsippedhiscoffeeandorderedaliqueur.Theattendantwaspassingfromtabletotablewithhisboxofmoney,acceptingpaymentforbills.TheelderlyAmericanlady’svoiceroseshrillandplaintive.
“Mydaughtersaid,‘Takeabookoffoodticketsandyou’llhavenotrouble—notroubleatall.’Now,thatisn’tso.Seemstheyhavetohaveatenpercenttip,andthenthere’sthatbottleofmineralwater—andaqueersortofwatertoo.Theyhadn’tgotanyEvianorVichy,whichseemsqueertome.”
“Itis—theymust—howyousay—servethewaterofthecountry,”explainedthesheep-facedlady.
“Well,itseemsqueertome.”Shelookeddistastefullyattheheapofsmallchangeonthetableinfrontofher.“Lookatallthispeculiarstuffhe’sgivenme.Dinarsorsomething.Justalotofrubbish,itlooks.Mydaughtersaid—”
MaryDebenhampushedbackherchairandleftwithaslightbowtotheothertwo.ColonelArbuthnotgotupandfollowedher.Gatheringupherdespisedmoney,theAmericanladyfollowedsuit,followedbytheladylikeasheep.TheHungarianshadalreadydeparted.TherestaurantcarwasemptysaveforPoirotandRatchettandMacQueen.
Ratchettspoketohiscompanion,whogotupandleftthecar.Thenherosehimself,butinsteadoffollowingMacQueenhedroppedunexpectedlyintotheseatoppositePoirot.
“Canyouobligemewithalight?”hesaid.Hisvoicewassoft—faintlynasal.“MynameisRatchett.”
Poirotbowedslightly.Heslippedhishandintohispocketandproducedamatchboxwhichhehandedtotheotherman,whotookitbutdidnotstrikealight.
“Ithink,”hewenton,“thatIhavethepleasureofspeakingtoM.HerculePoirot.Isthatso?”
Poirotbowedagain.
“Youhavebeencorrectlyinformed,Monsieur.”
Thedetectivewasconsciousofthosestrangeshrewdeyessumminghimupbeforetheotherspokeagain.
“Inmycountry,”hesaid,“wecometothepointquickly.Mr.Poirot,Iwantyoutotakeonajobforme.”
HerculePoirot’seyebrowswentupatrifle.
“Myclientèle,Monsieur,islimitednowadays.Iundertakeveryfewcases.”
“Why,naturally,Iunderstandthat.Butthis,Mr.Poirot,meansbigmoney.”Herepeatedagaininhissoft,persuasivevoice,“Bigmoney.”
HerculePoirotwassilentaminuteortwo,thenhesaid:
“Whatisityouwishmetodoforyou,M.—er—Ratchett?”
“Mr.Poirot,Iamarichman—averyrichman.Meninthatpositionhaveenemies.Ihaveanenemy.”
“Onlyoneenemy?”
“Justwhatdoyoumeanbythatquestion?”askedRatchettsharply.
“Monsieur,inmyexperiencewhenamanisinapositiontohave,asyousay,enemies,thenitdoesnotusuallyresolveitselfintooneenemyonly.”
RatchettseemedrelievedbyPoirot’sanswer.Hesaidquickly:
“Why,yes,Iappreciatethatpoint.Enemyorenemies—itdoesn’tmatter.Whatdoesmatterismysafety.”
“Safety?”
“Mylifehasbeenthreatened,Mr.Poirot.Now,I’mamanwhocantakeprettygoodcareofhimself.”Fromthepocketofhiscoathishandbroughtasmallautomaticintosightforamoment.Hecontinuedgrimly.“Idon’tthinkI’mthekindofmantobecaughtnapping.ButasIlookatitImightaswellmakeassurancedoublysure.Ifancyyou’rethemanformymoney,Mr.Poirot.Andremember—bigmoney.”
Poirotlookedathimthoughtfullyforsomeminutes.Hisfacewascompletelyexpressionless.Theothercouldhavehadnoclueastowhatthoughtswerepassinginthatmind.
“Iregret,Monsieur,”hesaidatlength.“Icannotobligeyou.”
Theotherlookedathimshrewdly.
“Nameyourfigure,then,”hesaid.
Poirotshookhishead.
“Youdonotunderstand,Monsieur.Ihavebeenveryfortunateinmyprofession.Ihavemadeenoughmoneytosatisfybothmyneedsandmycaprices.Itakenowonlysuchcasesas—interestme.”
“You’vegotaprettygoodnerve,”saidRatchett.“Willtwentythousanddollarstemptyou?”
“Itwillnot.”
“Ifyou’reholdingoutformore,youwon’tgetit.Iknowwhatathing’sworthtome.”
“Ialso—M.Ratchett.”
“What’swrongwithmyproposition?”
Poirotrose.
“Ifyouwillforgivemeforbeingpersonal—Idonotlikeyourface,M.Ratchett,”hesaid.
Andwiththathelefttherestaurantcar.
Four
ACRYINTHENIGHT
TheSimplonOrientExpressarrivedatBelgradeataquartertoninethatevening.Itwasnotduetodepartagainuntil9:15,soPoirotdescendedtotheplatform.Hedidnot,however,remaintherelong.Thecoldwasbitterandthoughtheplatformitselfwasprotected,heavysnowwasfallingoutside.Hereturnedtohiscompartment.Theconductor,whowasontheplatformstampinghisfeetandwavinghisarmstokeepwarm,spoketohim.
“Yourvaliseshavebeenmoved,Monsieur,tothecompartmentNo.1,thecompartmentofM.Bouc.”
“ButwhereisM.Bouc,then?”
“HehasmovedintothecoachfromAthenswhichhasjustbeenputon.”
Poirotwentinsearchofhisfriend.M.Boucwavedhisprotestationsaside.
“Itisnothing.Itisnothing.Itismoreconvenientlikethis.YouaregoingthroughtoEngland,soitisbetterthatyoushouldstayinthethroughcoachtoCalais.Me,Iamverywellhere.Itismostpeaceful.ThiscoachisemptysaveformyselfandonelittleGreekdoctor.Ah!myfriend,whatanight!Theysaytherehasnotbeensomuchsnowforyears.Letushopeweshallnotbeheldup.Iamnottoohappyaboutit,Icantellyou.”
At9:15punctuallythetrainpulledoutofthestation,andshortlyafterwardsPoirotgotup,saidgoodnighttohisfriendandmadehiswayalongthecorridorbackintohisowncoachwhichwasinfrontnexttothediningcar.
Onthis,theseconddayofthejourney,barrierswerebreakingdown.ColonelArbuthnotwasstandingatthedoorofhiscompartmenttalkingtoMacQueen.
MacQueenbrokeoffsomethinghewassayingwhenhesawPoirot.Helookedverysurprised.
“Why,”hecried,“Ithoughtyou’dleftus.YousaidyouweregettingoffatBelgrade.”
“Youmisunderstoodme,”saidPoirot,smiling.“Iremembernow,thetrainstartedfromStambouljustasweweretalkingaboutit.”
“But,man,yourbaggage—it’sgone.”
“Ithasbeenmovedintoanothercompartment—thatisall.”
“Oh,Isee.”
HeresumedhisconversationwithArbuthnotandPoirotpassedondownthecorridor.
Twodoorsfromhisowncompartment,theelderlyAmericanlady,Mrs.Hubbard,wasstandingtalkingtothesheep-likeladywhowasaSwede.Mrs.Hubbardwaspressingamagazineontheother.
“No,dotakeit,mydear,”shesaid.“I’vegotplentyotherthingstoread.My,isn’tthecoldsomethingfrightful?”ShenoddedamicablytoPoirot.
“Youaremostkind,”saidtheSwedishlady.
“Notatall.Ihopeyou’llsleepwellandthatyourheadwillbebetterinthemorning.”
“Itisthecoldonly.Imakenowmyselfacupoftea.”
“Haveyougotsomeaspirin?Areyousure,now?I’vegotplenty.Well,goodnight,mydear.”
SheturnedtoPoirotconversationallyastheotherwomandeparted.
“Poorcreature,she’saSwede.AsfarasIcanmakeout,she’sakindofmissionary—ateachingone.Anicecreature,butdoesn’ttalkmuchEnglish.ShewasmostinterestedinwhatItoldheraboutmydaughter.”
Poirot,bynow,knewallaboutMrs.Hubbard’sdaughter.EveryoneonthetrainwhocouldunderstandEnglishdid!HowsheandherhusbandwereonthestaffofabigAmericancollegeinSmyrnaandhowthiswasMrs.Hubbard’sfirstjourneytotheEast,andwhatshethoughtoftheTurksandtheirslipshodwaysandtheconditionoftheirroads.
Thedoornexttothemopenedandthethin,palemanservantsteppedout.InsidePoirotcaughtaglimpseofMr.Ratchettsittingupinbed.HesawPoirotandhisfacechanged,darkeningwithanger.Thenthedoorwasshut.
Mrs.HubbarddrewPoirotalittleaside
“Youknow,I’mdeadscaredofthatman.Oh,notthevalet—theother—hismaster.Master,indeed!There’ssomethingwrongaboutthatman.MydaughteralwayssaysI’mveryintuitive.‘WhenMommagetsahunch,she’sdeadright,’that’swhatmydaughtersays.AndI’vegotahunchaboutthatman.He’snextdoortome,andIdon’tlikeit.Iputmygripsagainstthecommunicatingdoorlastnight.IthoughtIheardhimtryingthehandle.Doyouknow,Ishouldn’tbesurprisedifthatmanturnsouttobeamurderer—oneofthesetrainrobbersyoureadabout.IdaresayI’mfoolish,butthereitis.I’mdownrightscaredoftheman!MydaughtersaidI’dhaveaneasyjourney,butsomehowIdon’tfeelhappyaboutit.Itmaybefoolish,butIfeelanythingmighthappen.Anythingatall.AndhowthatniceyoungfellowcanbeartobehissecretaryIcan’tthink.”
ColonelArbuthnotandMacQueenwerecomingtowardsthemdownthecorridor.
“Comeintomycarriage,”MacQueenwassaying.“Itisn’tmadeupforthenightyet.NowwhatIwanttogetrightaboutyourpolicyinIndiaisthis—”
ThemenpassedandwentondownthecorridortoMacQueen’scarriage.
Mrs.HubbardsaidgoodnighttoPoirot.
“IguessI’llgorighttobedandread,”shesaid.“Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,Madame.”
Poirotpassedintohisowncompartment,whichwasthenextonebeyondRatchett’s.Heundressedandgotintobed,readforabouthalfanhourandthenturnedoutthelight.
Heawokesomehourslater,andawokewithastart.Heknewwhatitwasthathadwakenedhim—aloudgroan,almostacry,somewherecloseathand.Atthesamemomentthetingofabellsoundedsharply.
Poirotsatupandswitchedonthelight.Henoticedthatthetrainwasatastandstill—presumablyatastation.
Thatcryhadstartledhim.HerememberedthatitwasRatchettwhohadthenextcompartment.HegotoutofbedandopenedthedoorjustastheWagonLitconductorcamehurryingalongthecorridorandknockedonRatchett’sdoor.Poirotkepthisdooropenacrackandwatched.Theconductortappedasecondtime.Abellrangandalightshowedoveranotherdoorfartherdown.Theconductorglancedoverhisshoulder.
Atthesamemomentavoicefromwithinthenext-doorcompartmentcalledout:
“Cen’estrien.Jemesuistrompé.”
“Bien,Monsieur.”Theconductorscurriedoffagain,toknockatthedoorwherethelightwasshowing.
Poirotreturnedtobed,hismindrelieved,andswitchedoffthelight.Heglancedathiswatch.Itwasjusttwenty-threeminutestoone.
Five
THECRIME
Hefounditdifficulttogotosleepagainatonce.Foronething,hemissedthemotionofthetrain.Ifitwasastationoutsideitwascuriouslyquiet.Bycontrast,thenoisesonthetrainseemedunusuallyloud.HecouldhearRatchettmovingaboutnextdoor—aclickashepulleddownthewashbasin,thesoundofthetaprunning,asplashingnoise,thenanotherclickasthebasinshuttoagain.Footstepspassedupthecorridoroutside,theshufflingfootstepsofsomeoneinbedroomslippers.
HerculePoirotlayawakestaringattheceiling.Whywasthestationoutsidesosilent?Histhroatfeltdry.Hehadforgottentoaskforhisusualbottleofmineralwater.Helookedathiswatchagain.Justafteraquarterpastone.Hewouldringfortheconductorandaskhimforsomemineralwater.Hisfingerwentouttothebell,buthepausedasinthestillnessheheardating.Themancouldn’tanswereverybellatonce
Ting…ting…ting…
Itsoundedagainandagain.Wherewastheman?Somebodywasgettingimpatient.
Ting…
Whoeveritwaswaskeepingtheirfingersolidlyonthepush.
Suddenlywitharush,hisfootstepsechoinguptheaisle,themancame.HeknockedatadoornotfarfromPoirot’sown.
Thencamevoices—theconductor’s,deferential,apologetic,andawoman’s—insistentandvoluble.
Mrs.Hubbard.
Poirotsmiledtohimself.
Thealtercation—ifitwasone—wentonforsometime.It’sproportionswereninetypercentofMrs.Hubbard’stoasoothingtenpercentoftheconductor’s.Finallythematterseemedtobeadjusted.Poirothearddistinctly:
“Bonnenuit,Madame,”andaclosingdoor.
Hepressedhisownfingeronthebell.
Theconductorarrivedpromptly.Helookedhotandworried.
“Del’eauminerale,s’ilvousplait.”
“Bien,Monsieur.”PerhapsatwinkleinPoirot’seyeledhimtounburdenhimself.
“LaDameAmericaine—”
“Yes?”
Hewipedhisforehead.
“ImaginetoyourselfthetimeIhavehadwithher!Sheinsists—butinsists—thatthereisamaninhercompartment!Figuretoyourself,Monsieur.Inaspaceofthissize.”Hesweptahandround.“Wherewouldheconcealhimself?Iarguewithher.Ipointoutthatitisimpossible.Sheinsists.Shewokeupandtherewasamanthere.Andhow,Iask,didhegetoutandleavethedoorboltedbehindhim?Butshewillnotlistentoreason.Asthough,therewerenotenoughtoworryusalready.Thissnow—”
“Snow?”
“Butyes,Monsieur.Monsieurhasnotnoticed?Thetrainhasstopped.Wehaverunintoasnowdrift.Heavenknowshowlongweshallbehere.Irememberoncebeingsnowedupforsevendays.”
“Wherearewe?”
“BetweenVincoviandBrod.”
“Làlà,”saidPoirotvexedly.
Themanwithdrewandreturnedwiththewater.
“Bonsoir,Monsieur.”
Poirotdrankaglassofwaterandcomposedhimselftosleep.
Hewasjustdroppingoffwhensomethingagainwokehim.Thistimeitwasasthoughsomethingheavyhadfallenwithathudagainstthedoor.
Hesprangup,openeditandlookedout.Nothing.Buttohisrightsomewaydownthecorridorawomanwrappedinascarletkimonowasretreatingfromhim.Attheotherend,sittingonhislittleseat,theconductorwasenteringupfiguresonlargesheetsofpaper.Everythingwasdeathlyquiet.
“DecidedlyIsufferfromthenerves,”saidPoirotandretiredtobedagain.Thistimeheslepttillmorning.
Whenheawokethetrainwasstillatastandstill.Heraisedablindandlookedout.Heavybanksofsnowsurroundedthetrain.
Heglancedathiswatchandsawthatitwaspastnineo’clock.
Ataquartertoten,neat,spruce,anddandifiedasever,hemadehiswaytotherestaurantcar,whereachorusofwoewasgoingon.
Anybarrierstheremighthavebeenbetweenthepassengershadnowquitebrokendown.Allwereunitedbyacommonmisfortune.Mrs.Hubbardwasloudestinherlamentations.
“Mydaughtersaiditwouldbetheeasiestwayintheworld.JustsitinthetrainuntilIgottoParrus.Andnowwemaybeherefordaysanddays,”shewailed.“Andmyboatsailsthedayaftertomorrow.HowamIgoingtocatchitnow?Why,Ican’tevenwiretocancelmypassage.Ifeeltoomadtotalkaboutit.”
TheItaliansaidthathehadurgentbusinesshimselfinMilan.ThelargeAmericansaidthatthatwas“toobad,Ma’am,”andsoothinglyexpressedahopethatthetrainmightmakeuptime.
“Mysister—herchildrenwaitme,”saidtheSwedishladyandwept.“Igetnowordtothem.Whattheythink?Theywillsaybadthingshavehappentome.”
“Howlongshallwebehere?”demandedMaryDebenham.“Doesn’tanybodyknow?”
Hervoicesoundedimpatient,butPoirotnotedthattherewerenosignsofthatalmostfeverishanxietywhichshehaddisplayedduringthechecktotheTaurusExpress.
Mrs.Hubbardwasoffagain.
“Thereisn’tanybodyknowsathingonthistrain.Andnobody’stryingtodoanything.Justapackofuselessforeigners.Why,ifthiswereathome,there’dbesomeoneatleasttryingtodosomething.”
ArbuthnotturnedtoPoirotandspokeincarefulBritishFrench.
“Vousêtesundirecteurdelaligne,jecrois,Monsieur.Vouspouveznousdire—”
SmilingPoirotcorrectedhim.
“No,no,”hesaidinEnglish.“ItisnotI.YouconfoundmewithmyfriendM.Bouc.”
“Oh!I’msorry.”
“Notatall.Itismostnatural.Iamnowinthecompartmentthathehadformerly.”
M.Boucwasnotpresentintherestaurantcar.Poirotlookedabouttonoticewhoelsewasabsent.
PrincessDragomiroffwasmissingandtheHungariancouple.AlsoRatchett,hisvalet,andtheGermanlady’smaid.
TheSwedishladywipedhereyes.
“Iamfoolish,”shesaid.“Iambabytocry.Allforthebest,whateverhappen.”
ThisChristianspirit,however,wasfarfrombeingshared.
“That’sallverywell,”saidMacQueenrestlessly.“Wemaybeherefordays.”
“Whatisthiscountryanyway?”demandedMrs.Hubbardtearfully.
OnbeingtolditwasYugo-Slaviashesaid:
“Oh!oneoftheseBalkanthings.Whatcanyouexpect?”
“Youaretheonlypatientone,Mademoiselle,”saidPoirottoMissDebenham.
Sheshruggedhershouldersslightly.
“Whatcanonedo?”
“Youareaphilosopher,Mademoiselle.”
“Thatimpliesadetachedattitude.Ithinkmyattitudeismoreselfish.Ihavelearnedtosavemyselfuselessemotion.”
Shewasnotevenlookingathim.Hergazewentpasthim,outofthewindowtowherethesnowlayinheavymasses.
“Youareastrongcharacter,Mademoiselle,”saidPoirotgently.“Youare,Ithink,thestrongestcharacteramongstus.”
“Oh,no.No,indeed.IknowonefarfarstrongerthanIam.”
“Andthatis—?”
Sheseemedsuddenlytocometoherself,torealizethatshewastalkingtoastrangerandaforeignerwithwhom,untilthismorning,shehadonlyexchangedhalfadozensentences.
Shelaughedapolitebutestranginglaugh.
“Well—thatoldlady,forinstance.Youhaveprobablynoticedher.Averyuglyoldlady,butratherfascinating.Shehasonlytoliftalittlefingerandaskforsomethinginapolitevoice—andthewholetrainruns.”
“ItrunsalsoformyfriendM.Bouc,”saidPoirot.“Butthatisbecauseheisadirectoroftheline,notbecausehehasamasterfulcharacter.”
MaryDebenhamsmiled.
Themorningworeaway.Severalpeople,Poirotamongstthem,remainedinthediningcar.Thecommunallifewasfelt,atthemoment,topassthetimebetter.HeheardagooddealmoreaboutMrs.Hubbard’sdaughterandheheardthelifelonghabitsofMr.Hubbard,deceased,fromhisrisinginthemorningandcommencingbreakfastwithacerealtohisfinalrestatnightinthebedsocksthatMrs.Hubbardherselfhadbeeninthehabitofknittingforhim.
ItwaswhenhewaslisteningtoaconfusedaccountofthemissionaryaimsoftheSwedishladythatoneoftheWagonLitconductorscameintothecarandstoodathiselbow.
“Pardon,Monsieur.”
“Yes?”
“ThecomplimentsofM.Bouc,andhewouldbegladifyouwouldbesokindastocometohimforafewminutes.”
Poirotrose,utteredexcusestotheSwedishladyandfollowedthemanoutofthediningcar.
Itwasnothisownconductor,butabigfairman.
Hefollowedhisguidedownthecorridorofhisowncarriageandalongthecorridorofthenextone.Themantappedatadoor,thenstoodasidetoletPoirotenter.
ThecompartmentwasnotM.Bouc’sown.Itwasasecond-classone—chosenpresumablybecauseofitsslightlylargersize.Itcertainlygavetheimpressionofbeingcrowded.
M.Bouchimselfwassittingonthesmallseatintheoppositecorner.Inthecornernextthewindowfacinghimwasasmall,darkmanlookingoutatthesnow.StandingupandquitepreventingPoirotfromadvancinganyfartherwasabigmaninblueuniform(thechefdetrain)andhisownWagonLitconductor.
“Ah,mygoodfriend,”criedM.Bouc.“Comein.Wehaveneedofyou.”
Thelittlemaninthewindowshiftedalongtheseat,Poirotsqueezedpasttheothertwomenandsatdownfacinghisfriend.
TheexpressiononM.Bouc’sfacegavehim,ashewouldhaveexpressedit,furiouslytothink.Itwasclearthatsomethingoutofthecommonhadhappened.
“Whathasoccurred?”heasked.
“Youmaywellaskthat.Firstthissnow—thisstoppage.Andnow—”
Hepaused—andasortofstrangledgaspcamefromtheWagonLitconductor.
“Andnowwhat?”
“Andnowapassengerliesdeadinhisberth—stabbed.”
M.Boucspokewithakindofcalmdesperation.
“Apassenger?Whichpassenger?”
“AnAmerican.Amancalled—called—”heconsultedsomenotesinfrontofhim.“Ratchett—thatisright—Ratchett?”
“Yes,Monsieur,”theWagonLitmangulped.
Poirotlookedathim.Hewasaswhiteaschalk.
“Youhadbetterletthatmansitdown,”hesaid.“Hemayfaintotherwise.”
ThechefdetrainmovedslightlyandtheWagonLitmansankdowninthecornerandburiedhisfaceinhishands.
“Brr!”saidPoirot.“Thisisserious!”
“Certainlyitisserious.Tobeginwith,amurder—thatbyitselfisacalamityofthefirstwater.Butnotonlythat,thecircumstancesareunusual.Hereweare,broughttoastandstill.Wemaybehereforhours—andnotonlyhours—days!Anothercircumstance.Passingthroughmostcountrieswehavethepoliceofthatcountryonthetrain.ButinYugoslavia—no.Youcomprehend?”
“Itisapositionofgreatdifficulty,”saidPoirot.
“Thereisworsetocome.Dr.Constantine—Iforgot,Ihavenotintroducedyou—Dr.Constantine,M.Poirot.”
ThelittledarkmanbowedandPoirotreturnedit.
“Dr.Constantineisoftheopinionthatdeathoccurredatabout1a.m.”
“Itisdifficulttosayexactlyinthesematters,”saidthedoctor,“butIthinkIcansaydefinitelythatdeathoccurredbetweenmidnightandtwointhemorning.”
“WhenwasthisM.Ratchettlastseenalive?”askedPoirot.
“Heisknowntohavebeenaliveatabouttwentyminutestoone,whenhespoketotheconductor,”saidM.Bouc.
“Thatisquitecorrect,”saidPoirot.“Imyselfheardwhatpassed.Thatisthelastthingknown?”
“Yes.”
Poirotturnedtowardthedoctor,whocontinued:
“ThewindowofM.Ratchett’scompartmentwasfoundwideopen,leadingonetosupposethatthemurdererescapedthatway.Butinmyopinionthatopenwindowisablind.Anyonedepartingthatwaywouldhaveleftdistincttracesinthesnow.Therewerenone.”
“Thecrimewasdiscovered—when?”askedPoirot.
“Michel!”
TheWagonLitconductorsatup.Hisfacestilllookedpaleandfrightened.
“Tellthisgentlemanexactlywhatoccurred,”orderedM.Bouc.
Themanspokesomewhatjerkily.
“ThevaletofthisM.Ratchett,hetappedseveraltimesatthedoorthismorning.Therewasnoanswer.Then,halfanhourago,therestaurantcarattendantcame.HewantedtoknowifMonsieurwastakingdéjeuner.Itwaseleveno’clock,youcomprehend.
“Iopenthedoorforhimwithmykey.Butthereisachain,too,andthatisfastened.Thereisnoansweranditisverystillinthere,andcold—butcold.Withthewindowopenandsnowdriftingin.Ithoughtthegentlemanhadhadafit,perhaps.Igotthechefdetrain.Webrokethechainandwentin.Hewas—Ah!c’étaitterrible!”
Heburiedhisfaceinhishandsagain.
“Thedoorwaslockedandchainedontheinside,”saidPoirotthoughtfully.“Itwasnotsuicide—eh?”
TheGreekdoctorgaveasardoniclaugh.
“Doesamanwhocommitssuicidestabhimselfinten—twelve—fifteenplaces?”heasked.
Poirot’seyesopened.
“Thatisgreatferocity,”hesaid.
“Itisawoman,”saidthechefdetrain,speakingforthefirsttime.“Dependuponit,itwasawoman.Onlyawomanwouldstablikethat.”
Dr.Constantinescreweduphisfacethoughtfully.
“Shemusthavebeenaverystrongwoman,”hesaid.“Itisnotmydesiretospeaktechnically—thatisonlyconfusing—butIcanassureyouthatoneortwooftheblowsweredeliveredwithsuchforceastodrivethemthroughhardbeltsofboneandmuscle.”
“Itwasnot,clearly,ascientificcrime,”saidPoirot.
“Itwasmostunscientific,”saidDr.Constantine.“Theblowsseemtohavebeendeliveredhaphazardandatrandom.Somehaveglancedoff,doinghardlyanydamage.Itisasthoughsomebodyhadshuttheireyesandtheninafrenzystruckblindlyagainandagain.”
“C’estunefemme,”saidthechefdetrainagain.“Womenarelikethat.Whentheyareenragedtheyhavegreatstrength.”Henoddedsosagelythateveryonesuspectedapersonalexperienceofhisown.
“Ihave,perhaps,somethingtocontributetoyourstoreofknowledge,”saidPoirot.“M.Ratchettspoketomeyesterday.Hetoldme,asfarasIwasabletounderstandhim,thathewasindangerofhislife.”
“‘Bumpedoff’—thatistheAmericanexpression,isitnot?”saidM.Bouc.“Thenitisnotawoman.Itisa‘Gangster’ora‘gunman.’”
Thechefdetrainlookedpainedathistheoryhavingcometonaught.
“Ifso,”saidPoirot,“itseemstohavebeendoneveryamateurishly.”
Histoneexpressedprofessionaldisapproval.
“ThereisalargeAmericanonthetrain,”saidM.Bouc,pursuinghisidea—“acommon-lookingmanwithterribleclothes.HechewsthegumwhichIbelieveisnotdoneingoodcircles.YouknowwhomImean?”
TheWagonLitconductortowhomhehadappealednodded.
“Oui,Monsieur,theNo.16.Butitcannothavebeenhe.Ishouldhaveseenhimenterorleavethecompartment.”
“Youmightnot.Youmightnot.Butwewillgointothatpresently.Thequestionis,whattodo?”HelookedatPoirot.
Poirotlookedbackathim.
“Come,myfriend,”saidM.Bouc.“YoucomprehendwhatIamabouttoaskofyou.Iknowyourpowers.Takecommandofthisinvestigation!No,no,donotrefuse.See,tousitisserious—IspeakfortheCompagnieInternationaledesWagonsLits.BythetimetheYugo-Slavianpolicearrive,howsimpleifwecanpresentthemwiththesolution!Otherwisedelays,annoyances,amillionandoneinconveniences.Perhaps,whoknows,seriousannoyancetoinnocentpersons.Instead—yousolvethemystery!Wesay,‘Amurderhasoccurred—thisisthecriminal!’”
“AndsupposeIdonotsolveit?”
“Ah!moncher.”M.Bouc’svoicebecamepositivelycaressing.“Iknowyourreputation.Iknowsomethingofyourmethods.Thisistheidealcaseforyou.Tolookuptheantecedentsofallthesepeople,todiscovertheirbonafides—allthattakestimeandendlessinconvenience.ButhaveInotheardyousayoftenthattosolveacaseamanhasonlytoliebackinhischairandthink?Dothat.Interviewthepassengersonthetrain,viewthebody,examinewhatcluesthereareandthen—well,Ihavefaithinyou!Iamassuredthatitisnoidleboastofyours.Liebackandthink—use(asIhaveheardyousaysooften)thelittlegreycellsofthemind—andyouwillknow!”
Heleanedforward,lookingaffectionatelyathisfriend.
“Yourfaithtouchesme,myfriend,”saidPoirotemotionally.“Asyousay,thiscannotbeadifficultcase.Imyself,lastnight—butwewillnotspeakofthatnow.Intruth,thisproblemintriguesme.Iwasreflecting,nothalfanhourago,thatmanyhoursofboredomlayaheadwhilstwearestuckhere.Andnow—aproblemliesreadytomyhand.”
“Youacceptthen?”saidM.Bouceagerly.
“C’estentendu.Youplacethematterinmyhands.”
“Good—weareallatyourservice.”
“Tobeginwith,IshouldlikeaplanoftheIstanbul-Calaiscoach,withanoteofthepeoplewhooccupiedtheseveralcompartments,andIshouldalsoliketoseetheirpassportsandtheirtickets.”
“Michelwillgetyouthose.”
TheWagonLitconductorleftthecompartment.
“Whatotherpassengersarethereonthetrain?”askedPoirot.
“InthiscoachDr.ConstantineandIaretheonlytravellers.InthecoachfromBucharestisanoldgentlemanwithalameleg.Heiswellknowntotheconductor.Beyondthataretheordinarycarriages,butthesedonotconcernus,sincetheywerelockedafterdinnerhadbeenservedlastnight.ForwardoftheIstanbul-Calaiscoachthereisonlythediningcar.”
“Thenitseems,”saidPoirotslowly,“asthoughwemustlookforourmurdererintheIstanbul-Calaiscoach.”Heturnedtothedoctor.“Thatiswhatyouwerehinting,Ithink?”
TheGreeknodded.
“Athalfanhouraftermidnightweranintothesnowdrift.Noonecanhaveleftthetrainsincethen.”
M.Boucsaidsolemnly.
“Themurdereriswithus—onthetrainnow….”
Six
AWOMAN?
Firstofall,”saidPoirot,“IshouldlikeawordortwowithyoungM.MacQueen.Hemaybeabletogiveusvaluableinformation.”
“Certainly,”saidM.Bouc.
Heturnedtothechefdetrain
“GetM.MacQueentocomehere.”
Thechefdetrainleftthecarriage.
Theconductorreturnedwithabundleofpassportsandtickets.M.Bouctookthemfromhim.
“Thankyou,Michel.Itwouldbebestnow,Ithink,ifyouweretogobacktoyourpost.Wewilltakeyourevidenceformallylater.”
“Verygood,Monsieur.”
Michelinhisturnleftthecarriage.
“AfterwehaveseenyoungMacQueen,”saidPoirot,“perhapsM.ledocteurwillcomewithmetothedeadman’scarriage.”
“Certainly.”
“Afterwehavefinishedthere—”
ButatthismomentthechefdetrainreturnedwithHectorMacQueen.
M.Boucrose.
“Wearealittlecrampedhere,”hesaidpleasantly.“Takemyseat,M.MacQueen.M.Poirotwillsitoppositeyou—so.”
Heturnedtothechefdetrain.
“Clearallthepeopleoutoftherestaurantcar,”hesaid,“andletitbeleftfreeforM.Poirot.Youwillconductyourinterviewsthere,moncher?”
“Itwouldbethemostconvenient,yes,”agreedPoirot.
MacQueenhadstoodlookingfromonetotheother,notquitefollowingtherapidflowofFrench.
“Qu’estcequ’ilya?”hebeganlaboriously.“Pourquoi—?”
WithavigorousgesturePoirotmotionedhimtotheseatinthecorner.Hetookitandbeganoncemore.
“Pourquoi—?”then,checkinghimselfandrelapsingintohisowntongue,“What’suponthetrain?Hasanythinghappened?”
Helookedfromonemantoanother.
Poirotnodded.
“Exactly.Somethinghashappened.Prepareyourselfforashock.Youremployer,M.Ratchett,isdead!”
MacQueen’smouthpurseditselfinawhistle.Exceptthathiseyesgrewashadebrighter,heshowednosignsofshockordistress.
“Sotheygothimafterall,”hesaid.
“Whatexactlydoyoumeanbythatphrase,M.MacQueen?”MacQueenhesitated.
“Youareassuming,”saidPoirot,“thatM.Ratchettwasmurdered?”
“Wasn’the?”ThistimeMacQueendidshowsurprise.“Why,yes,”hesaidslowly.“That’sjustwhatIdidthink.Doyoumeanhejustdiedinhissleep?Why,theoldmanwasastoughas—astough—”
Hestopped,atalossforasimile.
“No,no,”saidPoirot.“Yourassumptionwasquiteright.Mr.Ratchettwasmurdered.Stabbed.ButIshouldliketoknowwhyyouweresosureitwasmurder,andnotjust—death.”
MacQueenhesitated.
“Imustgetthisclear,”hesaid.“Whoexactlyareyou?Andwheredoyoucomein?”
“IrepresenttheCompagnieInternationaledesWagonsLits.”Hepaused,thenadded,“Iamadetective.MynameisHerculePoirot.”
Ifheexpectedaneffecthedidnotgetone.MacQueensaidmerely,“Oh,yes?”andwaitedforhimtogoon.
“Youknowthename,perhaps.”
“Why,itdoesseemkindoffamiliar—onlyIalwaysthoughtitwasawoman’sdressmaker.”
HerculePoirotlookedathimwithdistaste.
“Itisincredible!”hesaid.
“What’sincredible?”
“Nothing.Letusadvancewiththematterinhand.Iwantyoutotellme,M.MacQueen,allthatyouknowaboutthedeadman.Youwerenotrelatedtohim?”
“No.Iam—was—hissecretary.”
“Forhowlonghaveyouheldthatpost?”
“Justoverayear.”
“Pleasegivemealltheinformationyoucan.”
“Well,ImetMr.RatchettjustoverayearagowhenIwasinPersia—”
Poirotinterrupted.
“Whatwereyoudoingthere?”
“IhadcomeoverfromNewYorktolookintoanoilconcession.Idon’tsupposeyouwanttohearallaboutthat.MyfriendsandIhadbeenletinratherbadlyoverit.Mr.Ratchettwasinthesamehotel.Hehadjusthadarowwithhissecretary.HeofferedmethejobandItookit.Iwasatalooseend,andgladtofindawell-paidjobreadymade,asitwere.”
“Andsincethen?”
“We’vetravelledabout.Mr.Ratchettwantedtoseetheworld.Hewashamperedbyknowingnolanguages.Iactedmoreasacourierthanasasecretary.Itwasapleasantlife.”
“Nowtellmeasmuchasyoucanaboutyouremployer.”
Theyoungmanshruggedhisshoulders.Aperplexedexpressionpassedoverhisface.
“That’snotsoeasy.”
“Whatwashisfullname?”
“SamuelEdwardRatchett.”
“HewasanAmericancitizen?”
“Yes.”
“WhatpartofAmericadidhecomefrom?”
“Idon’tknow.”
“Well,tellmewhatyoudoknow.”
“Theactualtruthis,Mr.Poirot,thatIknownothingatall!Mr.Ratchettneverspokeofhimself,orofhislifeinAmerica.”
“Whydoyouthinkthatwas?”
“Idon’tknow.Iimaginedthathemighthavebeenashamedofhisbeginnings.Somemenare.”
“Doesthatstrikeyouasasatisfactorysolution?”
“Frankly,itdoesn’t.”
“Hasheanyrelations?”
“Henevermentionedany.”
Poirotpressedthepoint.
“Youmusthaveformedsometheory,M.MacQueen.”
“Well,yes,Idid.Foronething,Idon’tbelieveRatchettwashisrealname.IthinkheleftAmericadefinitelyinordertoescapesomeoneorsomething.Ithinkhewassuccessful—untilafewweeksago.”
“Andthen?”
“Hebegantogetletters—threateningletters.”
“Didyouseethem?”
“Yes.Itwasmybusinesstoattendtohiscorrespondence.Thefirstlettercameafortnightago.”
“Weretheselettersdestroyed?”
“No,IthinkI’vegotacouplestillinmyfiles—oneIknowRatchetttoreupinarage.ShallIgetthemforyou?”
“Ifyouwouldbesogood.”
MacQueenleftthecompartment.HereturnedafewminuteslaterandlaiddowntwosheetsofratherdirtynotepaperbeforePoirot.
Thefirstletterranasfollows:
“Thoughtyou’ddoublecrossusandgetawaywithit,didyou?Notonyourlife.We’reouttoGETyou,Ratchett,andweWILLgetyou!”
Therewasnosignature.
Withnocommentbeyondraisedeyebrows,Poirotpickedupthesecondletter.
“We’regoingtotakeyouforaride,Ratchett.Sometimesoon.We’regoingtoGETyou,see?”
Poirotlaidtheletterdown.
“Thestyleismonotonous!”hesaid.“Moresothanthehandwriting.”
MacQueenstaredathim.
“Youwouldnotobserve,”saidPoirotpleasantly.“Itrequirestheeyeofoneusedtosuchthings.Thisletterwasnotwrittenbyoneperson,M.MacQueen.Twoormorepersonswroteit—eachwritingaletterofawordatatime.Also,thelettersareprinted.Thatmakesthetaskofidentifyingthehandwritingmuchmoredifficult.”
Hepaused,thensaid:
“DidyouknowthatM.Ratchetthadappliedforhelptome?”
“Toyou?”
MacQueen’sastonishedtonetoldPoirotquitecertainlythattheyoungmanhadnotknownofit.Henodded.
“Yes.Hewasalarmed.Tellme,howdidheactwhenhereceivedthefirstletter?”
MacQueenhesitated.
“It’sdifficulttosay.He—he—passeditoffwithalaughinthatquietwayofhis.Butsomehow”—hegaveaslightshiver—“Ifeltthattherewasagooddealgoingonunderneaththequietness.”
Poirotnodded.Thenheaskedanunexpectedquestion.
“Mr.MacQueen,willyoutellme,quitehonestly,exactlyhowyouregardedyouremployer?Didyoulikehim?”
HectorMacQueentookamomentortwobeforereplying.
“No,”hesaidatlast.“Ididnot.”
“Why?”
“Ican’texactlysay.Hewasalwaysquitepleasantinhismanner.”Hepaused,thensaid,“I’lltellyouthetruth,Mr.Poirot.Idislikedanddistrustedhim.Hewas,Iamsure,acruelandadangerousman.Imustadmit,though,thatIhavenoreasonstoadvanceformyopinion.”
“Thankyou,M.MacQueen.Onefurtherquestion—whendidyoulastseeM.Ratchettalive?”
“Lasteveningabout”—hethoughtforaminute—“teno’clock,Ishouldsay.Iwentintohiscompartmenttotakedownsomememorandafromhim.”
“Onwhatsubject?”
“SometilesandantiquepotterythatheboughtinPersia.Whatwasdeliveredwasnotwhathehadpurchased.Therehasbeenalong,vexatiouscorrespondenceonthesubject.”
“AndthatwasthelasttimeM.Ratchettwasseenalive?”
“Yes,Isupposeso.”
“DoyouknowwhenM.Ratchettreceivedthelastthreateningletter?”
“OnthemorningofthedayweleftConstantinople.”
“ThereisonemorequestionImustaskyou,M.MacQueen:wereyouongoodtermswithyouremployer?”
Theyoungman’seyestwinkledsuddenly
“ThisiswhereI’msupposedtogoallgoosefleshydowntheback.Inthewordsofabestseller,‘You’venothingonme.’RatchettandIwereonperfectlygoodterms.”
“Perhaps,M.MacQueen,youwillgivemeyourfullnameandyouraddressinAmerica.”
MacQueengavehisname—HectorWillardMacQueen,andanaddressinNewYork.
Poirotleanedbackagainstthecushions
“Thatisallforthepresent,M.MacQueen,”hesaid.“IshouldbeobligedifyouwouldkeepthematterofM.Ratchett’sdeathtoyourselfforalittletime.”
“Hisvalet,Masterman,willhavetoknow.”
“Heprobablyknowsalready,”saidPoirotdryly.“Ifsotrytogethimtoholdhistongue.”
“Thatoughtn’ttobedifficult.He’saBritisher,anddoeswhathecalls‘Keepshimselftohimself.’He’salowopinionofAmericansandnoopinionatallofanyothernationality.”
“Thankyou,M.MacQueen.”
TheAmericanleftthecarriage.
“Well?”demandedM.Bouc.“Youbelievewhathesays,thisyoungman?”
“Heseemshonestandstraightforward.Hedidnotpretendtoanyaffectionforhisemployerasheprobablywouldhavedonehadhebeeninvolvedinanyway.ItistrueM.Ratchettdidnottellhimthathehadtriedtoenlistmyservicesandfailed,butIdonotthinkthatisreallyasuspiciouscircumstance.IfancyM.Ratchettwasagentlemanwhokepthisowncounseloneverypossibleoccasion.”
“Soyoupronounceonepersonatleastinnocentofthecrime,”saidM.Boucjovially.
Poirotcastonhimalookofreproach.
“Me,Isuspecteverybodytillthelastminute,”hesaid.“Allthesame,ImustadmitthatIcannotseethissober,long-headedMacQueenlosinghisheadandstabbinghisvictimtwelveorfourteentimes.Itisnotinaccordwithhispsychology—notatall.”
“No,”saidMr.Boucthoughtfully.“Thatistheactofamandrivenalmostcrazywithafrenziedhate—itsuggestsmoretheLatintemperament.Orelseitsuggests,asourfriendthechefdetraininsisted,awoman.”
Seven
THEBODY
FollowedbyDr.Constantine,Poirotmadehiswaytothenextcoachandthecompartmentoccupiedbythemurderedman.Theconductorcameandunlockedthedoorforthemwithhiskey.
Thetwomenpassedinside.Poirotturnedinquiringlytohiscompanion.
“Howmuchhasbeendisarrangedinthiscompartment?”
“Nothinghasbeentouched.Iwascarefulnottomovethebodyinmakingmyexamination.”
Poirotnodded.Helookedroundhim.
Thefirstthingthatstruckthesenseswastheintensecold.Thewindowwaspusheddownasfarasitwouldgoandtheblindwasdrawnup.
“Brrr,”observedPoirot.
Theothersmiledappreciatively.
“Ididnotliketocloseit,”hesaid
Poirotexaminedthewindowcarefully.
“Youareright,”heannounced.“Nobodyleftthecarriagethisway.Possiblytheopenwindowwasintendedtosuggestthefact,but,ifso,thesnowhasdefeatedthemurderer’sobject.”
Heexaminedtheframeofthewindowcarefully.Takingasmallcasefromhispocketheblewalittlepowderoverit.
“Nofingerprintsatall,”hesaid.“Thatmeansithasbeenwiped.Well,iftherehadbeenfingerprintsitwouldhavetoldusverylittle.TheywouldhavebeenthoseofM.Ratchettorhisvaletortheconductor.Criminalsdonotmakemistakesofthatkindnowadays.
“Andthatbeingso,”headdedcheerfully,“wemightaswellshutthewindow.Positivelyitisthecoldstorageinhere!”
Hesuitedtheactiontothewordandthenturnedhisattentionforthefirsttimetothemotionlessfigurelyinginthebunk.
Ratchettlayonhisback.Hispyjamajacket,stainedwithrustypatches,hadbeenunbuttonedandthrownback.
“Ihadtoseethenatureofthewounds,yousee,”explainedthedoctor.
Poirotnodded.Hebentoverthebody.Finallyhestraightenedhimselfwithaslightgrimace.
“Itisnotpretty,”hesaid.“Someonemusthavestoodthereandstabbedhimagainandagain.Howmanywoundsarethereexactly?”
“Imakeittwelve.Oneortwoaresoslightastobepracticallyscratches.Ontheotherhand,atleastthreewouldbecapableofcausingdeath.”
Somethinginthedoctor’stonecaughtPoirot’sattention.Helookedathimsharply.ThelittleGreekwasstandingstaringdownatthebodywithapuzzledfrown.
“Somethingstrikesyouasodd,doesitnot?”heaskedgently.“Speak,myfriend.Thereissomethingherethatpuzzlesyou?”
“Youareright,”acknowledgedtheother.
“Whatisit?”
“Yousee,thesetwowounds—hereandhere,”—hepointed.“Theyaredeep,eachcutmusthaveseveredbloodvessels—andyet—theedgesdonotgape.Theyhavenotbledasonewouldhaveexpected.”
“Whichsuggests?”
“Thatthemanwasalreadydead—somelittletimedead—whentheyweredelivered.Butthatissurelyabsurd.”
“Itwouldseemso,”saidPoirotthoughtfully.“Unlessourmurdererfiguredtohimselfthathehadnotaccomplishedhisjobproperlyandcamebacktomakequitesure;butthatismanifestlyabsurd!Anythingelse?”
“Well,justonething.”
“Andthat?”
“Youseethiswoundhere—undertherightarm—neartherightshoulder.Takethispencilofmine.Couldyoudeliversuchablow?”
Poirotraisedhishand.
“Précisément,”hesaid.“Isee.Withtherighthanditisexceedinglydifficult—almostimpossible.Onewouldhavetostrikebackhanded,asitwere.Butiftheblowwerestruckwiththelefthand—”
“Exactly,M.Poirot.Thatblowwasalmostcertainlystruckwiththelefthand.”
“Sothatourmurdererisleft-handed?No,itismoredifficultthanthat,isitnot?”
“Asyousay,M.Poirot.Someoftheseotherblowsarejustasobviouslyright-handed.”
“Twopeople.Wearebackattwopeopleagain,”murmuredthedetective.Heaskedabruptly:
“Wastheelectriclighton?”
“Itisdifficulttosay.Youseeitisturnedoffbytheconductoreverymorningaboutteno’clock.”
“Theswitcheswilltellus,”saidPoirot.
Heexaminedtheswitchofthetoplightandalsotherollbackbed-headlight.Theformerwasturnedoff.Thelatterwasclosed.
“Ehbien,”hesaidthoughtfully.“WehavehereahypothesisoftheFirstandSecondMurderer,asthegreatShakespearewouldputit.TheFirstMurdererstabbedhisvictimandleftthecompartment,turningoffthelight.TheSecondMurderercameininthedark,didnotseethathisorherworkhadbeendoneandstabbedatleasttwiceatadeadbody.Quepensezvousde?a?”
“Magnificent,”saidthelittledoctorwithenthusiasm.
Theother’seyestwinkled.
“Youthinkso?Iamglad.Itsoundedtomealittlelikethenonsense.”
“Whatotherexplanationcantherebe?”
“ThatisjustwhatIamaskingmyself.Havewehereacoincidenceorwhat?Arethereanyotherinconsistencies,suchaswouldpointtotwopeoplebeingconcerned?”
“IthinkIcansayyes.Someoftheseblows,asIhavealreadysaid,pointtoaweakness—alackofstrengthoralackofdetermination.Theyarefeebleglancingblows.Butthisonehere—andthisone—”Againhepointed.“Greatstrengthwasneededforthoseblows.Theyhavepenetratedthemuscle.”
“Theywere,inyouropinion,deliveredbyaman?”
“Mostcertainly.”
“Theycouldnothavebeendeliveredbyawoman?”
“Ayoung,vigorous,athleticwomanmighthavestruckthem,especiallyifshewereinthegripofastrongemotion,butitisinmyopinionhighlyunlikely.”
Poirotwassilentamomentortwo.
Theothersaidanxiously.
“Youunderstandmypoint?”
“Perfectly,”saidPoirot.“Thematterbeginstoclearitselfupwonderfully!Themurdererwasamanofgreatstrength,hewasfeeble,itwasawoman,itwasaright-handedperson,itwasaleft-handedperson—Ah!c’estrigolo,tout?a!”
Hespokewithsuddenanger.
“Andthevictim—whatdoeshedoinallthis?Doeshecryout?Doeshestruggle?Doeshedefendhimself?”
HeslippedhishandunderthepillowanddrewouttheautomaticpistolwhichRatchetthadshownhimthedaybefore.
“Fullyloaded,yousee,”hesaid.
Theylookedroundthem.Ratchett’sdayclothingwashangingfromthehooksonthewall.Onthesmalltableformedbythelidofthewashingbasinwerevariousobjects—falseteethinaglassofwater;anotherglass,empty;abottleofmineralwater,alargeflaskandanashtraycontainingthebuttofacigarandsomecharredfragmentsofpaper;alsotwoburntmatches.
Thedoctorpickeduptheemptyglassandsniffedit.
“Hereistheexplanationofthevictim’sinertia,”hesaidquietly.
“Drugged?”
“Yes.”
Poirotnodded.Hepickedupthetwomatchesandscrutinizedthemcarefully.
“Youhaveacluethen?”demandedthelittledoctoreagerly.
“Thosetwomatchesareofadifferentshape,”saidPoirot.“Oneisflatterthantheother.Yousee?”
“Itisthekindyougetonatrain,”saidthedoctor,“inpapercovers.”
PoirotwasfeelinginthepocketsofRatchett’sclothing.Presentlyhepulledoutaboxofmatches.Hecomparedthemcarefully.
“TherounderoneisamatchstruckbyMr.Ratchett,”hesaid.“Letusseeifhehadalsotheflatterkind.”
Butafurthersearchshowednoothermatches.
Poirot’seyesweredartingaboutthecompartment.Theywerebrightandsharplikeabird’s.Onefeltthatnothingcouldescapetheirscrutiny.
Withalittleexclamationhebentandpickedupsomethingfromthefloor.
Itwasasmallsquareofcambric,verydainty.“Ourfriendthechefdetrainwasright.Thereisawomanconcernedinthis.”
“Andmostconvenientlysheleavesherhandkerchiefbehind!”saidPoirot.“Exactlyasithappensinthebooksandonthefilms—andtomakethingseveneasierforusitismarkedwithaninitial.”
“Whatastrokeofluckforus!”exclaimedthedoctor.
“Isitnot?”saidPoirot.
Somethinginhistonesurprisedthedoctor.
Butbeforehecouldaskforelucidation,Poirothadmadeanotherdiveontothefloor.
Thistimeheheldoutonthepalmofhishand—apipecleaner.
“ItisperhapsthepropertyofM.Ratchett?”suggestedthedoctor.
“Therewasnopipeinanyofhispockets,andnotobaccoortobaccopouch.”
“Thenitisaclue.”
“Oh!decidedly.Andagaindroppedmostconveniently.Amasculinecluethistime,younote!Onecannotcomplainofhavingnocluesinthiscase.Thereareclueshereinabundance.Bytheway,whathaveyoudonewiththeweapon?”
“Therewasnosignofanyweapon.Themurderermusthavetakenitawaywithhim.”
“Iwonderwhy,”musedPoirot.
“Ah!”Thedoctorhadbeendelicatelyexploringthepyjamapocketsofthedeadman.
“Ioverlookedthis,”hesaid.“Iunbuttonedthejacketandthrewitstraightback.”
Fromthebreastpockethebroughtoutagoldwatch.Thecasewasdentedsavagely,andthehandspointedtoaquarterpastone.
“Yousee?”criedConstantineeagerly.“Thisgivesusthehourofthecrime.Itagreeswithmycalculations.BetweenmidnightandtwointhemorningiswhatIsaid,andprobablyaboutoneo’clock,thoughitisdifficulttobeexactinthesematters.Ehbien,hereisconfirmation.Aquarterpastone.Thatwasthehourofthecrime.”
“Itispossible,yes.Itiscertainlypossible.”
Thedoctorlookedathimcuriously.
“Youwillpardonme,M.Poirot,butIdonotquiteunderstandyou.”
“Idonotunderstandmyself,”saidPoirot.“Iunderstandnothingatall,and,asyouperceive,itworriesme.”
Hesighedandbentoverthelittletable,examiningthecharredfragmentofpaper.Hemurmuredtohimself.
“WhatIneedatthismomentisanold-fashionedwoman’shatbox.”
Dr.Constantinewasatalosstoknowwhattomakeofthissingularremark.Inanycase,Poirotgavehimnotimeforquestions.Openingthedoorintothecorridor,hecalledfortheconductor.
Themanarrivedatarun.
“Howmanywomenarethereinthiscoach?”
Theconductorcountedonhisfingers.
“One,two,three—six,Monsieur.TheoldAmericanlady,aSwedishlady,theyoungEnglishlady,theCountessAndrenyiandMadamelaPrincessDragomiroffandhermaid.”
Poirotconsidered.
“Theyallhavehatboxes,yes?”
“Yes,Monsieur.”
“Thenbringme—letmesee—yes,theSwedishlady’sandthatofthelady’smaid.Thosetwoaretheonlyhope.Youwilltellthemitisacustomsregulation—something—anythingthatoccurstoyou.”
“ThatwillbeallrightMonsieur.Neitherladyisinhercompartmentatthemoment.”
“Thenbequick.”
Theconductordeparted.Hereturnedwiththetwohatboxes.Poirotopenedthatofthelady’smaidandtosseditaside.ThenheopenedtheSwedishlady’sandutteredanexclamationofsatisfaction.Removingthehatscarefully,hedisclosedroundhumpsofwirenetting.
“Ah,hereiswhatweneed.Aboutfifteenyearsagohatboxesweremadelikethis.Youskeweredthroughthehatwithahatpinontothishumpofwirenetting.”
Ashespokehewasskilfullyremovingtwooftheattachments.Thenherepackedthehatboxandtoldtheconductortoreturnthembothwheretheybelonged.
Whenthedoorwasshutoncemoreheturnedtohiscompanion.
“Seeyou,mydeardoctor,me,Iamnotonetorelyupontheexpertprocedure.ItisthepsychologyIseek,notthefingerprintorthecigaretteash.ButinthiscaseIwouldwelcomealittlescientificassistance.Thiscompartmentisfullofclues,butcanIbesurethatthosecluesarereallywhattheyseemtobe?”
“Idonotquiteunderstandyou,M.Poirot.”
“Well,togiveyouanexample—wefindawoman’shandkerchief.Didawomandropit?Ordidaman,committingthecrime,saytohimself‘Iwillmakethislooklikeawoman’scrime.Iwillstabmyenemyanunnecessarynumberoftimes,makingsomeoftheblowsfeebleandineffective,andIwilldropthishandkerchiefwherenoonecanmissit.’Thatisonepossibility.Thenthereisanother.Didawomankillhimanddidshedeliberatelydropapipecleanertomakeitlooklikeaman’swork?Orareweseriouslytosupposethattwopeople—amanandawoman—wereseparatelyconcerned,andthateachwassocarelessastodropacluetotheiridentity?Itisalittletoomuchofacoincidence,that!”
“Butwheredoesthehatboxcomein?”askedthedoctor,stillpuzzled.
“Ah!I’mcomingtothat.AsIsay,theseclues,thewatchstoppedataquarterpastone,thehandkerchief,thepipecleaner,theymaybegenuine,ortheymaybefake.AstothatIcannotyettell.ButthereisoneclueherewhichIbelieve—thoughagainImaybewrong—hasnotbeenfaked.Imeanthisflatmatch,M.ledocteur.Ibelievethatthatmatchwasusedbythemurderer,notbyM.Ratchett.Itwasusedtoburnanincriminatingpaperofsomekind.Possiblyanote.Ifso,therewassomethinginthatnote,somemistake,someerror,thatleftapossiblecluetotheassailant.Iamgoingtoendeavourtoresurrectwhatthatsomethingwas.”
Hewentoutofthecompartmentandreturnedafewmomentslaterwithasmallspiritstoveandapairofcurlingtongs
“Iusethemforthemoustaches,”hesaid,referringtothelatter.
Thedoctorwatchedhimwithgreatinterest.Heflattenedoutthetwohumpsofwire,andwithgreatcarewriggledthecharredscrapofpaperontooneofthem.Heclappedtheotherontopofitandthen,holdingbothpiecestogetherwiththetongs,heldthewholethingovertheflameofthespiritlamp.
“Itisaverymakeshiftaffair,this,”hesaidoverhisshoulder.“Letushopethatitwillansweritspurpose.”
Thedoctorwatchedtheproceedingsattentively.Themetalbegantoglow.Suddenlyhesawfaintindicationsofletters.Wordsformedthemselvesslowly—wordsoffire.
Itwasaverytinyscrap.Onlythreewordsandapartofanothershowed.
“—memberlittleDaisyArmstrong.”
“Ah!”Poirotgaveasharpexclamation
“Ittellsyousomething?”askedthedoctor.
Poirot’seyeswereshining.Helaiddownthetongscarefully.
“Yes,”hesaid.“Iknowthedeadman’srealname.IknowwhyhehadtoleaveAmerica.”
“Whatwashisname?”
“Cassetti.”
“Cassetti.”Constantineknittedhisbrows.“Itbringsbacktomesomething.Someyearsago.Icannotremember…ItwasacaseinAmerica,wasitnot?”
“Yes,”saidPoirot.“AcaseinAmerica.”
FurtherthanthatPoirotwasnotdisposedtobecommunicative.Helookedroundhimashewenton:
“Wewillgointoallthatpresently.Letusfirstmakesurethatwehaveseenallthereistobeseenhere.”
Quicklyanddeftlyhewentoncemorethroughthepocketsofthedeadman’sclothesbutfoundnothingthereofinterest.Hetriedthecommunicatingdoorwhichledthroughtothenextcompartment,butitwasboltedontheotherside.
“ThereisonethingthatIdonotunderstand,”saidDr.Constantine.“Ifthemurdererdidnotescapethroughthewindow,andifthiscommunicatingdoorwasboltedontheotherside,andifthedoorintothecorridorwasnotonlylockedontheinsidebutchained,howthendidthemurdererleavethecompartment?”
“Thatiswhattheaudiencesayswhenapersonboundhandandfootisshutintoacabinet—anddisappears.”
“Youmean—”
“Imean,”explainedPoirot,“thatifthemurdererintendedustobelievethathehadescapedbywayofthewindowhewouldnaturallymakeitappearthattheothertwoexitswereimpossible.Likethe‘disappearingperson’inthecabinet—itisatrick.Itisourbusinesstofindouthowthetrickisdone.”
Helockedthecommunicatingdoorontheirside.
“Incase,”hesaid,“theexcellentMrs.Hubbardshouldtakeitintoherheadtoacquirefirst-handdetailsofthecrimetowritetoherdaughter.”
Helookedroundoncemore.
“Thereisnothingmoretodohere,Ithink.LetusrejoinM.Bouc.”
Eight
THEARMSTRONGKIDNAPPINGCASE
TheyfoundM.Boucfinishinganomelet.
“Ithoughtitbesttohavelunchservedimmediatelyintherestaurantcar,”hesaid.“AfterwardsitwillbeclearedandM.Poirotcanconducthisexaminationofthepassengersthere.InthemeantimeIhaveorderedthemtobringusthreesomefoodhere.”
“Anexcellentidea,”saidPoirot.
Neitheroftheothertwomenwashungry,andthemealwassooneaten,butnottilltheyweresippingtheircoffeedidM.Boucmentionthesubjectthatwasoccupyingalltheirminds.
“Ehbien?”heasked.
“Ehbien,Ihavediscoveredtheidentityofthevictim.IknowwhyitwasimperativeheshouldleaveAmerica.”
“Whowashe?”
“DoyourememberreadingoftheArmstrongbaby?ThisisthemanwhomurderedlittleDaisyArmstrong—Cassetti.”
“Irecallitnow.Ashockingaffair—thoughIcannotrememberthedetails.”
“ColonelArmstrongwasanEnglishman—aV.C.HewashalfAmerican,ashismotherwasadaughterofW.K.VanderHalt,theWallStreetmillionaire.HemarriedthedaughterofLindaArden,themostfamoustragicAmericanactressofherday.TheylivedinAmericaandhadonechild—agirl—whomtheyidolized.Whenshewasthreeyearsoldshewaskidnapped,andanimpossiblyhighsumdemandedasthepriceofherreturn.Iwillnotwearyyouwithalltheintricaciesthatfollowed.Iwillcometothemoment,when,afterhavingpaidovertheenormoussumoftwohundredthousanddollars,thechild’sdeadbodywasdiscovered,ithavingbeendeadatleastafortnight.Publicindignationrosetofeverpoint.Andtherewasworsetofollow.Mrs.Armstrongwasexpectinganotherchild.Followingtheshockofthediscovery,shegavebirthtoadeadchildbornprematurely,andherselfdied.Herbroken-heartedhusbandshothimself.”
“MonDieu,whatatragedy.Iremembernow,”saidM.Bouc.“Therewasalsoanotherdeath,ifIrememberrightly?”
“Yes—anunfortunateFrenchorSwissnursemaid.Thepolicewereconvincedthatshehadsomeknowledgeofthecrime.Theyrefusedtobelieveherhystericaldenials.Finally,inafitofdespair,thepoorgirlthrewherselffromawindowandwaskilled.Itwasprovedafterwardsthatshewasabsolutelyinnocentofanycomplicityinthecrime.”
“Itisnotgoodtothinkof,”saidM.Bouc.
“Aboutsixmonthslater,thismanCassettiwasarrestedastheheadofthegangwhohadkidnappedthechild.Theyhadusedthesamemethodsinthepast.Ifthepoliceseemedlikelytogetontheirtrail,theyhadkilledtheirprisoner,hiddenthebody,andcontinuedtoextractasmuchmoneyaspossiblebeforethecrimewasdiscovered
“Now,Iwillmakecleartoyouthis,myfriend.Cassettiwastheman!Butbymeansoftheenormouswealthhehadpiledupandbythesecretholdhehadovervariouspersons,hewasacquittedonsometechnicalinaccuracy.Notwithstandingthat,hewouldhavebeenlynchedbythepopulacehadhenotbeencleverenoughtogivethemtheslip.Itisnowcleartomewhathappened.HechangedhisnameandleftAmerica.Sincethenhehasbeenagentlemanofleisure,travellingabroadandlivingonhisrentes.”
“Ah!quelanimal!”M.Bouc’stonewasredolentofheartfeltdisgust.“Icannotregretthatheisdead—notatall!”
“Iagreewithyou.”
“Toutdemême,itisnotnecessarythatheshouldbekilledontheOrientExpress.Thereareotherplaces.”
Poirotsmiledalittle.HerealizedthatM.Boucwasbiasedinthematter.
“Thequestionwehavenowtoaskourselvesisthis,”hesaid.“IsthismurdertheworkofsomerivalgangwhomCassettihaddouble-crossedinthepast,orisitanactofprivatevengeance?”
Heexplainedhisdiscoveryofthefewwordsonthecharredfragmentofpaper.
“IfIamrightinmyassumption,thentheletterwasburntbythemurderer.Why?Becauseitmentionedtheword‘Armstrong,’whichisthecluetothemystery.”
“ArethereanymembersoftheArmstrongfamilyliving?”
“That,unfortunately,Idonotknow.IthinkIrememberreadingofayoungersisterofMrs.Armstrong’s.”
PoirotwentontorelatethejointconclusionsofhimselfandDr.Constantine.M.Boucbrightenedatthementionofthebrokenwatch.
“Thatseemstogiveusthetimeofthecrimeveryexactly.”
“Yes,”saidPoirot.“Itisveryconvenient.”
Therewasanindescribablesomethinginhistonethatmadeboththeothertwolookathimcuriously.
“YousaythatyouyourselfheardRatchettspeaktotheconductorattwentyminutestoone?”
Poirotrelatedjustwhathadoccurred.
“Well,”saidM.Bouc,“thatprovesatleastthatCassetti—orRatchett,asIshallcontinuetocallhim—wascertainlyaliveattwentyminutestoone.”
“Twenty-threeminutestoone,tobeprecise.”
“Thenattwelvethirty-seven,toputitformally,M.Ratchettwasalive.Thatisonefact,atleast.”
Poirotdidnotreply.Hesatlookingthoughtfullyinfrontofhim.
Therewasataponthedoor,andtherestaurantattendantentered.
“Therestaurantcarisfreenow,Monsieur,”hesaid.
“Wewillgothere,”saidM.Bouc,rising.
“Imayaccompanyyou?”askedConstantine.
“Certainly,mydeardoctor.UnlessM.Poirothasanyobjection?”
“Notatall.Notatall,”saidPoirot
Afteralittlepolitenessinthematterofprocedure,“Aprèsvous,Monsieur.”“Maisnon,aprèsvous,”theyleftthecompartment.
PARTTWO
THEEVIDENCE
One
THEEVIDENCEOFTHEWAGONLITCONDUCTOR
Intherestaurantcarallwasinreadiness.
PoirotandM.Boucsattogetherononesideofatable.Thedoctorsatacrosstheaisle.
OnthetableinfrontofPoirotwasaplanoftheIstanbul-Calaiscoachwiththenamesofthepassengersmarkedininredink.
Thepassportsandticketswereinapileatoneside.Therewaswritingpaper,ink,penandpencils.
“Excellent,”saidPoirot.“WecanopenourCourtofInquirywithoutmoreado.First,Ithink,weshouldtaketheevidenceoftheWagonLitconductor.Youprobablyknowsomethingabouttheman.Whatcharacterhashe?Isheamaninwhosewordyouwouldplacereliance?”
“Ishouldsaysomostassuredly.PierreMichelhasbeenemployedbythecompanyforoverfifteenyears.HeisaFrenchman—livesnearCalais.Thoroughlyrespectableandhonest.Not,perhaps,remarkableforbrains.”
Poirotnoddedcomprehendingly.
“Good,”hesaid.“Letusseehim.”
PierreMichelhadrecoveredsomeofhisassurance,buthewasstillextremelynervous.
“IhopeMonsieurwillnotthinkthattherehasbeenanynegligenceonmypart,”hesaidanxiously,hiseyesgoingfromPoirottoM.Bouc.“Itisaterriblethingthathashappened.IhopeMonsieurdoesnotthinkthatitreflectsonmeinanyway?”
Havingsoothedtheman’sfears,Poirotbeganhisquestions.HefirstelicitedMichel’snameandaddress,hislengthofservice,andthelengthoftimehehadbeenonthisparticularroute.Theseparticularshealreadyknew,buttheroutinequestionsservedtoputthemanathisease.
“Andnow,”wentonPoirot,“letuscometotheeventsoflastnight.M.Ratchettretiredtobed—when?”
“Almostimmediatelyafterdinner,Monsieur.ActuallybeforeweleftBelgrade.Sohedidonthepreviousnight.Hehaddirectedmetomakeupthebedwhilehewasatdinner,andIdidso.”
“Didanybodygointohiscompartmentafterwards?”
“Hisvalet,Monsieur,andtheyoungAmericangentlemanhissecretary.”
“Anyoneelse?”
“No,Monsieur,notthatIknowof.”
“Good.Andthatisthelastyousaworheardofhim?”
“No,Monsieur.Youforget,heranghisbellabouttwentytoone—soonafterwehadstopped.”
“Whathappenedexactly?”
“Iknockedatthedoor,buthecalledoutandsaidhehadmadeamistake.”
“InEnglishorinFrench?”
“InFrench.”
“Whatwerehiswordsexactly?”
“Cen’estrien.Jemesuistrompé.”
“Quiteright,”saidPoirot.“ThatiswhatIheard.Andthenyouwentaway?”
“Yes,Monsieur.”
“Didyougobacktoyourseat?”
“No,Monsieur,Iwentfirsttoansweranotherbellthathadjustrung.”
“Now,Michel,Iamgoingtoaskyouanimportantquestion.Wherewereyouataquarterpastone?”
“I,Monsieur?Iwasatmylittleseatattheend—facingupthecorridor.”
“Youaresure?”
“Maisoui—atleast—”
“Yes?”
“Iwentintothenextcoach,theAthenscoach,tospeaktomycolleaguethere.Wespokeaboutthesnow.Thatwasatsometimesoonafteroneo’clock.Icannotsayexactly.”
“Andyoureturned—when?”
“Oneofmybellsrang,Monsieur—Iremember—Itoldyou.ItwastheAmericanlady.Shehadrungseveraltimes.”
“Irecollect,”saidPoirot.“Andafterthat?”
“Afterthat,Monsieur?Iansweredyourbellandbroughtyousomemineralwater.Then,abouthalfanhourlater,Imadeupthebedinoneoftheothercompartments—thatoftheyoungAmericangentleman,M.Ratchett’ssecretary.”
“WasM.MacQueenaloneinhiscompartmentwhenyouwenttomakeuphisbed?”
“TheEnglishColonelfromNo.15waswithhim.Theyhadbeensittingtalking.”
“WhatdidtheColoneldowhenheleftM.MacQueen?”
“Hewentbacktohisowncompartment.”
“No.15—thatisquiteclosetoyourseat,isitnot?”
“Yes,Monsieur,itisthesecondcompartmentfromthatendofthecorridor.”
“Hisbedwasalreadymadeup?”
“Yes,Monsieur.Ihadmadeitupwhilehewasatdinner.”
“Whattimewasallthis?”
“Icouldnotsayexactly,Monsieur.Notlaterthantwoo’clock,certainly.”
“Andafterthat?”
“Afterthat,Monsieur,Isatinmyseattillmorning.”
“YoudidnotgoagainintotheAthenscoach?”
“No,Monsieur.”
“Perhapsyouslept?”
“Idonotthinkso,Monsieur.ThetrainbeingatastandstillpreventedmefromdozingoffasIusuallydo.”
“Didyouseeanyofthepassengersmovingupordownthecorridor?”
Themanreflected.
“Oneoftheladieswenttothetoiletatthefarend,Ithink.”
“Whichlady?”
“Idonotknow,Monsieur.Itwasfardownthecorridor,andshehadherbacktome.Shehadonakimonoofscarletwithdragonsonit.”
Poirotnodded.
“Andafterthat?”
“Nothing,Monsieur,untilthemorning.”
“Youaresure?”
“Ah,pardon,youyourself,Monsieur,openedyourdoorandlookedoutforasecond.”
“Good,myfriend,”saidPoirot.“Iwonderedwhetheryouwouldrememberthat.Bytheway,Iwasawakenedbywhatsoundedlikesomethingheavyfallingagainstmydoor.Haveyouanyideawhatthatcouldhavebeen?”
Themanstaredathim.
“Therewasnothing,Monsieur.Nothing,Iampositiveofit.”
“ThenImusthavehadthecauchemar,”saidPoirotphilosophically.
“Unless,”saidM.Bouc,“itwassomethinginthecompartmentnextdoorthatyouheard.”
Poirottooknonoticeofthesuggestion.PerhapshedidnotwishtobeforetheWagonLitconductor.
“Letuspasstoanotherpoint,”hesaid.“Supposingthatlastnightanassassinjoinedthetrain.Itisquitecertainthathecouldnothaveleftitaftercommittingthecrime?”
PierreMichaelshookhishead.
“Northathecanbeconcealedonitsomewhere?”
“Ithasbeenwellsearched,”saidM.Bouc.“Abandonthatidea,myfriend.”
“Besides,”saidMichel,“noonecouldgetontothesleepingcarwithoutmyseeingthem.”
“Whenwasthelaststop?”
“Vincovci.”
“Whattimewasthat?”
“Weshouldhaveleftthereat11:58.Butowingtotheweatherweweretwentyminuteslate.”
“Someonemighthavecomealongfromtheordinarypartofthetrain?”
“No,Monsieur.Aftertheserviceofdinnerthedoorbetweentheordinarycarriagesandthesleepingcarsislocked.”
“DidyouyourselfdescendfromthetrainatVincovci?”
“Yes,Monsieur.Igotdownontotheplatformasusualandstoodbythestepupintothetrain.Theotherconductorsdidthesame.”
“Whatabouttheforwarddoor?Theoneneartherestaurantcar?”
“Itisalwaysfastenedontheinside.”
“Itisnotsofastenednow.”
Themanlookedsurprised,thenhisfacecleared.
“Doubtlessoneofthepassengershasopenedittolookoutonthesnow.”
“Probably,”saidPoirot.
Hetappedthoughtfullyonthetableforaminuteortwo.
“Monsieurdoesnotblameme?”saidthemantimidly.
Poirotsmiledonhimkindly.
“Youhavehadtheevilchance,myfriend,”hesaid.“Ah!OneotherpointwhileIrememberit.YousaidthatanotherbellrangjustasyouwereknockingatM.Ratchett’sdoor.Infact,Ihearditmyself.Whosewasit?”
“ItwasthebellofMadamelaPrincesseDragomiroff.Shedesiredmetosummonhermaid.”
“Andyoudidso?”
“Yes,Monsieur.”
Poirotstudiedtheplaninfrontofhimthoughtfully.Thenheinclinedhishead.
“Thatisall,”hesaid,“forthemoment.”
“Thankyou,Monsieur.”
Themanrose.HelookedatM.Bouc.
“Donotdistressyourself,”saidthelatterkindly.“Icannotseethattherehasbeenanynegligenceonyourpart.”
Gratified,PierreMichelleftthecompartment.
Two
THEEVIDENCEOFTHESECRETARY
ForaminuteortwoPoirotremainedlostinthought.
“Ithink,”hesaidatlast,“thatitwouldbewelltohaveafurtherwordwithM.MacQueen,inviewofwhatwenowknow.”
TheyoungAmericanappearedpromptly.
“Well,”hesaid,“howarethingsgoing?”
“Nottoobadly.SinceourlastconversationIhavelearntsomething—theidentityofM.Ratchett.”
HectorMacQueenleanedforwardinterestedly.
“Yes?”hesaid.
“Ratchett,asyoususpected,wasmerelyanalias.RatchettwasCassetti,themanwhoranthecelebratedkidnappingstunts—includingthefamousaffairoflittleDaisyArmstrong.”
AnexpressionofutterastonishmentappearedonMacQueen’sface;thenitdarkened.
“Thedamnedskunk!”heexclaimed.
“Youhadnoideaofthis,M.MacQueen?”
“No,sir,”saidtheyoungAmericandecidedly.“IfIhadI’dhavecutoffmyrighthandbeforeithadachancetodosecretarialworkforhim!”
“Youfeelstronglyaboutthematter,M.MacQueen?”
“Ihaveaparticularreasonfordoingso.Myfatherwasthedistrictattorneywhohandledthecase,M.Poirot.IsawMrs.Armstrongmorethanonce—shewasalovelywoman.Sogentleandheartbroken.”Hisfacedarkened.“Ifeveramandeservedwhathegot,RatchettorCassettiistheman.I’mrejoicedathisend.Suchamanwasn’tfittolive!”
“Youalmostfeelasthoughyouwouldhavebeenwillingtodothegooddeedyourself?”
“Ido.I—”Hepaused,thenflushedratherguiltily.“SeemsI’mkindofincriminatingmyself.”
“Ishouldbemoreinclinedtosuspectyou,M.MacQueen,ifyoudisplayedaninordinatesorrowatyouremployer’sdecease.”
“Idon’tthinkIcoulddothat,eventosavemyselffromthechair,”saidMacQueengrimly.
Thenheadded:
“IfI’mnotbeingundulycurious,justhowdidyoufigurethisout?Cassetti’sidentity,Imean.”
“Byafragmentofaletterfoundinhiscompartment.”
“Butsurely—Imean—thatwasrathercarelessoftheoldman?”
“Thatdepends,”saidPoirot,“onthepointofview.”
Theyoungmanseemedtofindthisremarkratherbaffling.HestaredatPoirotasthoughtryingtomakehimout.
“Thetaskbeforeme,”saidPoirot,“istomakesureofthemovementsofeveryoneonthetrain.Nooffenceneedbetaken,youunderstand?Itisonlyamatterofroutine.”
“Sure.GetrightonwithitandletmeclearmycharacterifIcan.”
“Ineedhardlyaskyouthenumberofyourcompartment,”saidPoirot,smiling,“sinceIshareditwithyouforanight.Itisthesecond-classcompartmentNos.6and7,andaftermydepartureyouhadittoyourself.”
“That’sright.”
“Now,M.MacQueen,Iwantyoutodescribeyourmovementslastnightfromthetimeofleavingthediningcar.”
“That’squiteeasy.Iwentbacktomycompartment,readabit,gotoutontheplatformatBelgrade,decideditwastoocold,andgotinagain.ItalkedforawhiletoayoungEnglishladywhoisinthecompartmentnexttomine.ThenIfellintoconversationwiththatEnglishman,ColonelArbuthnot—asamatteroffactIthinkyoupassedusasweweretalking.ThenIwentintoMr.Ratchettand,asItoldyou,tookdownsomememorandaoflettershewantedwritten.Isaidgoodnighttohimandlefthim.ColonelArbuthnotwasstillstandinginthecorridor.Hiscompartmentwasalreadymadeupforthenight,soIsuggestedthatheshouldcomealongtomine.Iorderedacoupleofdrinksandwegot
“Doyouknowwhattimeitwaswhenheleftyou?”
“Prettylate.Gettingonfortwoo’clock,Ishouldsay.”
“Younoticedthatthetrainhadstopped?”
“Oh,yes.Wewonderedabit.Lookedoutandsawthesnowlyingverythick,butwedidn’tthinkitwasserious.”
“WhathappenedwhenColonelArbuthnotfinallysaidgoodnight?”
“HewentalongtohiscompartmentandIcalledtotheconductortomakeupmybed.”
“Wherewereyouwhilsthewasmakingit?”
“Standingjustoutsidethedoorinthecorridorsmokingacigarette.”
“Andthen?”
“AndthenIwenttobedandslepttillmorning.”
“Duringtheeveningdidyouleavethetrainatall?”
“ArbuthnotandIthoughtwe’dgetoutat—whatwasthenameoftheplace?—Vincovcitostretchourlegsabit.Butitwasbitterlycold—ablizzardon.Wesoonhoppedbackagain.”
“Bywhichdoordidyouleavethetrain?”
“Bytheonenearesttoourcompartment.”
“Theonenexttothediningcar?”
“Yes.”
“Doyourememberifitwasbolted?”
MacQueenconsidered.
“Why,yes,Iseemtorememberitwas.Atleasttherewasakindofbarthatfittedacrossthehandle.Isthatwhatyoumean?”
“Yes.Ongettingbackintothetraindidyoureplacethatbar?”
“Why,no—Idon’tthinkIdid.Igotinlast.No,Idon’tseemtorememberdoingso.”
Headdedsuddenly:
“Isthatanimportantpoint?”
“Itmaybe.Now,Ipresume,Monsieur,thatwhileyouandColonelArbuthnotweresittingtalkingthedoorofyourcompartmentintothecorridorwasopen?”
HectorMacQueennodded.
“Iwantyou,ifyoucan,totellmeifanyonepassedalongthatcorridorafterthetrainleftVincovciuntilthetimeyoupartedcompanyforthenight.”
MacQueendrewhisbrowstogether.
“Ithinktheconductorpassedalongonce,”hesaid,“comingfromthedirectionofthediningcar.Andawomanpassedtheotherway,goingtowardsit.”
“Whichwoman?”
“Icouldn’tsay.Ididn’treallynotice.Yousee,IwasjustarguingapointwithArbuthnot.Ijustseemtorememberaglimpseofsomescarletsilkaffairpassingthedoor.Ididn’tlook,andanywayIwouldn’thaveseentheperson’sface.Asyouknow,mycarriagefacesthediningcarendofthetrain,soawomangoingalongthecorridorinthatdirectionwouldhaveherbacktomeassoonasshepassed.”
Poirotnodded.
“Shewasgoingtothetoilet,Ipresume?”
“Isupposeso.”
“Andyousawherreturn?”
“Well,no,nowthatyoumentionit,Ididn’tnoticeherreturning,butIsupposeshemusthavedoneso.”
“Onemorequestion.Doyousmokeapipe,M.MacQueen?”
“No,sir,Idonot.”
Poirotpausedamoment.
“Ithinkthatisallatpresent.IshouldnowliketoseethevaletofM.Ratchett.Bytheway,didbothyouandhealwaystravelsecond-class?”
“Hedid.ButIusuallywentfirst—ifpossibleintheadjoiningcompartmenttoMr.Ratchett.Thenhehadmostofhisbaggageputinmycompartmentandyetcouldgetatbothitandmeeasilywheneverhechose.Butonthisoccasionallthefirst-classberthswerebookedexcepttheonewhichhetook.”
“Icomprehend.Thankyou,M.MacQueen.”
Three
THEEVIDENCEOFTHEVALET
TheAmericanwassucceededbythepaleEnglishmanwiththeinexpressivefacewhomPoirothadalreadynoticedonthedaybefore.Hestoodwaitingverycorrectly.Poirotmotionedtohimtositdown.
“Youare,Iunderstand,thevaletofM.Ratchett?”
“Yes,sir.”
“Yourname?”
“EdwardHenryMasterman.”
“Yourage?”
“Thirty-nine.”
“Andyourhomeaddress?”
“21FriarStreet,Clerkenwell.”
“Youhaveheardthatyourmasterhasbeenmurdered?”
“Yes,sir.Averyshockingoccurrence.”
“Willyounowtellme,please,atwhathouryoulastsawM.Ratchett?”
Thevaletconsidered.
“Itmusthavebeenaboutnineo’clock,sir,lastnight.Thatoralittleafter.”
“Tellmeinyourownwordsexactlywhathappened.”
“IwentintoMr.Ratchettasusual,sir,andattendedtohiswants.”
“Whatwereyourdutiesexactly?”
“Tofoldorhanguphisclothes,sir.Puthisdentalplateinwaterandseethathehadeverythinghewantedforthenight.”
“Washismannermuchthesameasusual?”
Thevaletconsideredamoment.
“Well,sir,Ithinkhewasupset.”
“Inwhatway—upset?”
“Overaletterhe’dbeenreading.HeaskedmeifitwasIwhohadputitinhiscompartment.OfcourseItoldhimIhadn’tdoneanysuchthing,buthesworeatmeandfoundfaultwitheverythingIdid.”
“Wasthatunusual?”
“Oh,no,sir,helosthistempereasily—asIsay,itjustdependedwhathadhappenedtoupsethim.”
“Didyourmasterevertakeasleepingdraught?”
Dr.Constantineleanedforwardalittle
“Alwayswhentravellingbytrain,sir.Hesaidhecouldn’tsleepotherwise.”
“Doyouknowwhatdrughewasinthehabitoftaking?”
“Icouldn’tsay,I’msure,sir.Therewasnonameonthebottle.Just‘TheSleepingDraughttobetakenatbedtime.’”
“Didhetakeitlastnight?”
“Yes,sir.Ipoureditintoaglassandputitontopofthetoilettablereadyforhim.”
“Youdidn’tactuallyseehimdrinkit?”
“No,sir.”
“Whathappenednext?”
“Iaskediftherewasanythingfurther,andaskedwhattimeM.Ratchettwouldliketobecalledinthemorning.Hesaidhedidn’twanttobedisturbedtillherang.”
“Wasthatusual?”
“Quiteusual,sir.Heusedtoringthebellfortheconductorandthensendhimformewhenhewasreadytogetup.”
“Washeusuallyanearlyoralateriser?”
“Itdepended,sir,onhismood.Sometimeshe’dgetupforbreakfast,sometimeshewouldn’tgetuptilljustonlunchtime.”
“Sothatyouweren’talarmedwhenthemorningworeonandnosummonscame?”
“No,sir.”
“Didyouknowthatyourmasterhadenemies?”
“Yes,sir.”
Themanspokequiteunemotionally.
“Howdidyouknow?”
“Ihadheardhimdiscussingsomeletters,sir,withMr.MacQueen.”
“Hadyouanaffectionforyouremployer,Masterman?”
Masterman’sfacebecame,ifpossible,evenmoreinexpressivethanitwasnormally.
“Ishouldhardlyliketosaythat,sir.Hewasagenerousemployer.”
“Butyoudidn’tlikehim?”
“ShallweputitthatIdon’tcareverymuchforAmericans,sir.”
“HaveyoueverbeeninAmerica?”
“No,sir.”
“DoyourememberreadinginthepaperoftheArmstrongkidnappingcase?”
Alittlecolourcameintotheman’scheeks.
“Yes,indeed,sir.Alittlebabygirl,wasn’tit?Averyshockingaffair.”
“Didyouknowthatyouremployer,M.Ratchett,wastheprincipalinstigatorinthataffair?”
“No,indeed,sir.”Thevalet’stoneheldpositivewarmthandfeelingforthefirsttime.“Icanhardlybelieveit,sir.”
“Nevertheless,itistrue.Now,topasstoyourownmovementslastnight.Amatterofroutine,youunderstand.Whatdidyoudoafterleavingyourmaster?”
“ItoldMr.MacQueen,sir,thatthemasterwantedhim.ThenIwenttomyowncompartmentandread.”
“Yourcompartmentwas—?”
“Theendsecond-classone,sir.Nexttothediningcar.”
Poirotwaslookingathisplan.
“Isee—andyouhadwhichberth?”
“Thelowerone,sir.”
“ThatisNo.4?”
“Yes,sir.”
“Isthereanyoneinwithyou?”
“Yes,sir.AbigItalianfellow.”
“DoeshespeakEnglish?”
“Well,akindofEnglish,sir.”Thevalet’stonewasdeprecating.“He’sbeeninAmerica—Chicago—Iunderstand.”
“Doyouandhetalktogethermuch?”
“No,sir.Iprefertoread.”
Poirotsmiled.Hecouldvisualizethescene—thelargevolubleItalian,andthesnubdirectadministeredbythegentleman’sgentleman.
“Andwhat,mayIask,areyoureading?”heinquired.
“Atpresent,sir,IamreadingLove’sCaptive,byMrs.ArabellaRichardson.”
“Agoodstory?”
“Ifindithighlyenjoyable,sir.”
“Well,letuscontinue.YoureturnedtoyourcompartmentandreadLove’sCaptivetill—when?”
“Ataboutten-thirty,sir,thisItalianwantedtogotobed.Sotheconductorcameandmadethebedsup.”
“Andthenyouwenttobedandtosleep?”
“Iwenttobed,sir,butIdidn’tsleep.”
“Whydidn’tyousleep?”
“Ihadthetoothache,sir.”
“Oh,làlà—thatispainful.”
“Mostpainful,sir.”
“Didyoudoanythingforit?”
“Iappliedalittleoilofcloves,sir,whichrelievedthepainalittle,butIwasstillnotabletogettosleep.Iturnedthelightonabovemyheadandcontinuedtoread—totakemymindoffit,asitwere.”
“Anddidyounotgotosleepatall?”
“Yes,sir,Idroppedoffaboutfourinthemorning.”
“Andyourcompanion?”
“TheItalianfellow?Oh,hejustsnored.”
“Hedidnotleavethecompartmentatallduringthenight?”
“No,sir.”
“Didyou?”
“No,sir.”
“Didyouhearanythingduringthenight?”
“Idon’tthinkso,sir.Nothingunusual,Imean.Thetrainbeingatastandstillmadeitallveryquiet.”
Poirotwassilentamomentortwo,thenhesaid:
“Well,Ithinkthereisverylittlemoretobesaid.Youcannotthrowanylightuponthetragedy?”
“I’mafraidnot.I’msorry,sir.”
“Asfarasyouknow,wasthereanyquarrelorbadbloodbetweenyourmasterandM.MacQueen?”
“Oh,no,sir.Mr.MacQueenwasaverypleasantgentleman.”
“WherewereyouinservicebeforeyoucametoM.Ratchett?”
“WithSirHenryTomlinson,sir,inGrosvenorSquare.”
“Whydidyouleavehim?”
“HewasgoingtoEastAfrica,sir,anddidnotrequiremyservicesanylonger.ButIamsurehewillspeakforme,sir.Iwaswithhimsomeyears.”
“AndyouhavebeenwithM.Ratchett—howlong?”
“Justoverninemonths,sir.”
“Thankyou,Masterman.Bytheway,areyouapipesmoker?”
“No,sir.Ionlysmokecigarettes—gaspers,sir.”
“Thankyou.Thatwilldo.”
Thevalethesitatedamoment.
“You’llexcuseme,sir,buttheelderlyAmericanladyisinwhatImightdescribeasastate,sir.She’ssayingsheknowsallaboutthemurderer.She’sinaveryexcitablecondition,sir.”
“Inthatcase,”saidPoirot,smiling,“wehadbetterseehernext.”
“ShallItellher,sir?She’sbeendemandingtoseesomeoneinauthorityforalongtime.Theconductor’sbeentryingtopacifyher.”
“Sendhertous,myfriend,”saidPoirot.“Wewilllistentoherstorynow.”
Four
THEEVIDENCEOFTHEAMERICANLADY
Mrs.Hubbardarrivedinthediningcarinsuchastateofbreathlessexcitementthatshewashardlyabletoarticulateherwords.
“Nowjusttellmethis.Who’sinauthorityhere?I’vegotsomevurryimportantinformation,vurryimportant,indeed,andIjustwanttotellittosomeoneinauthorityassoonasmaybe.Ifyougentlemen—”
Herwaveringglancefluctuatedbetweenthethreemen.Poirotleanedforward.
“Tellittome,Madame,”hesaid.“But,first,praybeseated.”
Mrs.Hubbardplumpedheavilydownontotheseatoppositetohim.
“WhatI’vegottotellyouisjustthis.Therewasamurderonthetrainlastnight,andthemurdererwasrightthereinmycompartment!”
Shepausedtogivedramaticemphasistoherwords.
“Youaresureofthis,Madame?”
“OfcourseI’msure!Theidea!IknowwhatI’mtalkingabout.I’lltellyoujusteverythingthereistotell.I’dgottenintobedandgonetosleep,andsuddenlyIwokeup—allinthedark,itwas—andIknewtherewasamaninmycompartment.IwasjustsoscaredIcouldn’tscream,ifyouknowwhatImean.Ijustlaythereandthought,‘Mercy,I’mgoingtobekilled.’Ijustcan’tdescribetoyouhowIfelt.Thesenastytrains,Ithought,andalltheoutragesI’dreadof.AndIthought,‘Well,anyway,hewon’tgetmyjewellery.’Because,yousee,I’dputthatinastockingandhiddenitundermypillow—whichisn’tsomightycomfortable,bytheway,kinderbumpy,ifyouknowwhatImean.Butthat’sneitherherenorthere.WherewasI?”
“Yourealized,Madame,thattherewasamaninyourcompartment.”
“Yes,well,Ijustlaytherewithmyeyesclosed,andIthoughtwhatevershouldIdo,andIthought,‘Well,I’mjustthankfulthatmydaughterdoesn’tknowtheplightI’min.’Andthen,somehow,IgotmywitsaboutmeandIfeltaboutwithmyhandandIpressedthebellfortheconductor.IpresseditandIpressedit,butnothinghappened,andIcantellyouIthoughtmyheartwasgoingtostopbeating.‘Mercy,’Isaidtomyself,‘maybethey’vemurderedeverysinglesoulonthetrain.’Itwasatastandstill,anyhow,andanastyquietfeelintheair.ButIjustwentonpressingthatbell,andoh!thereliefwhenIheardfootstepscomingrunningdownthecorridorandaknockonthedoor.‘Comein,’Iscreamed,andIswitchedonthelightsatthesametime.And,wouldyoubelieveit,therewasn’tasoulthere.”
ThisseemedtoMrs.Hubbardtobeadramaticclimaxratherthanananticlimax.
“Andwhathappenednext,Madame?”
“Why,Itoldthemanwhathadhappened,andhedidn’tseemtobelieveme.SeemedtoimagineI’ddreamtthewholething.Imadehimlookundertheseat,thoughhesaidtherewasn’troomforamantosqueezehimselfinthere.Itwasplainenoughthemanhadgotaway,buttherehadbeenamanthereanditjustmadememadthewaytheconductortriedtosoothemedown!I’mnotonetoimaginethings,Mr.—Idon’tthinkIknowyourname?”
“Poirot,Madame,andthisisM.Bouc,adirectorofthecompany,andDr.Constantine.”
Mrs.Hubbardmurmured:
“Pleasetomeetyou,I’msure,”toallthreeoftheminanabstractedmanner,andthenplungedoncemoreintoherrecital.
“NowI’mjustnotgoingtopretendIwasasbrightasImighthavebeen.Igotitintomyheadthatitwasthemanfromnextdoor—thepoorfellowwho’sbeenkilled.Itoldtheconductortolookatthedoorbetweenthecompartments,andsureenoughitwasn’tbolted.Well,Isoonsawtothat,Itoldhimtoboltitthenandthere,andafterhe’dgoneoutIgotupandputasuitcaseagainstittomakesure.”
“Whattimewasthis,Mrs.Hubbard?”
“Well,I’msureIcan’ttellyou.Ineverlookedtosee.Iwassoupset.”
“Andwhatisyourtheorynow?”
“Why,Ishouldsayitwasjustasplainasplaincouldbe.Themaninmycompartmentwasthemurderer.Whoelsecouldhebe?”
“Andyouthinkhewentbackintotheadjoiningcompartment?”
“HowdoIknowwherehewent?Ihadmyeyestightshut.”
“Hemusthaveslippedoutthroughthedoorintothecorridor.”
“Well,Icouldn’tsay.Yousee,Ihadmyeyestightshut.”
Mrs.Hubbardsighedconvulsively.
“Mercy,Iwasscared!Ifmydaughteronlyknew—”
“Youdonotthink,Madame,thatwhatyouheardwasthenoiseofsomeonemovingaboutnextdoor—inthemurderedman’scompartment?”
“No,Idonot,Mr.—whatisit?—Poirot.Themanwasrightthereinthesamecompartmentwithme.And,what’smore,I’vegotproofofit.”
Triumphantlyshehauledalargehandbagintoviewandproceededtoburrowinitsinterior.
Shetookoutinturntwolargecleanhandkerchiefs,apairofhorn-rimmedglasses,abottleofaspirin,apacketofGlauber’ssalts,acelluloidtubeofbrightgreenpeppermints,abunchofkeys,apairofscissors,abookofAmericanExpresscheques,asnapshotofanextraordinarilyplain-lookingchild,someletters,fivestringsofpseudoOrientalbeadsandasmallmetalobject—abutton.
“Youseethisbutton?Well,it’snotoneofmybuttons.It’snotoffanythingI’vegot.IfounditthismorningwhenIgotup.”
Assheplaceditonthetable,M.Boucleanedforwardandgaveanexclamation.
“ButthisisabuttonfromthetunicofaWagonLitattendant!”
“Theremaybeanaturalexplanationforthat,”saidPoirot.
Heturnedgentlytothelady.
“Thisbutton,Madame,mayhavedroppedfromtheconductor’suniform,eitherwhenhesearchedyourcabin,orwhenhewasmakingthebeduplastnight.”
“Ijustdon’tknowwhat’sthematterwithallyoupeople.Seemsasthoughyoudon’tdoanythingbutmakeobjections.Nowlistenhere.IwasreadingamagazinelastnightbeforeIwenttosleep.BeforeIturnedthelightoutIplacedthatmagazineonalittlecasethatwasstandingonthefloornearthewindow.Haveyougotthat?”
Theyassuredherthattheyhad.
“Verywell,then.Theconductorlookedundertheseatfromnearthedoorandthenhecameinandboltedthedoorbetweenmeandthenextcompartment,butheneverwentupnearthewindow.Well,thismorningthatbuttonwaslyingrightontopofthemagazine.Whatdoyoucallthat,Ishouldliketoknow?”
“That,Madame,Icallevidence,”saidPoirot.
Theanswerseemedtoappeasethelady.
“Itmakesmemadderthanahornettobedisbelieved,”sheexplained.
“Youhavegivenusmostinterestingandvaluableevidence,”saidPoirotsoothingly.“Now,mayIaskyouafewquestions?”
“Why,willingly.”
“Howwasit,sinceyouwerenervousofthismanRatchett,thatyouhadn’talreadyboltedthedoorbetweenthecompartments?”
“Ihad,”returnedMrs.Hubbardpromptly.
“Oh,youhad?”
“Well,asamatteroffact,IaskedthatSwedishcreature—apleasantsoul—ifitwasbolted,andshesaiditwas.”
“Howwasityoucouldn’tseeforyourself?”
“BecauseIwasinbedandmyspongebagwashangingonthedoorhandle.”
“Whattimewasitwhenyouaskedhertodothisforyou?”
“Nowletmethink.Itmusthavebeenroundabouthalf-pasttenoraquartertoeleven.She’dcomealongtoseeifI’dgotanaspirin.Itoldherwheretofindit,andshegotitoutofmygrip.”
“Youyourselfwereinbed?”
“Yes.”
Suddenlyshelaughed.
“Poorsoul—shewasinquiteataking.Yousee,she’dopenedthedoorofthenextcompartmentbymistake.”
“M.Ratchett’s?”
“Yes.Youknowhowdifficultitisasyoucomealongthetrainandallthedoorsareshut.Sheopenedhisbymistake.Shewasverydistressedaboutit.He’dlaughed,itseemed,andIfancyhemayhavesaidsomethingnotquitenice.Poorthing,shewasallinaflutter.‘Oh!Imakemistake,’shesaid.‘Iashamedmakemistake.Notniceman,’shesaid.‘Hesay,“Youtooold.’”
Dr.ConstantinesniggeredandMrs.Hubbardimmediatelyfrozehimwithaglance
“Hewasn’tanicekindofman,”shesaid,“tosayathinglikethattoalady.It’snotrighttolaughatsuchthings.”
Dr.Constantinehastilyapologized.
“DidyouhearanynoisefromM.Ratchett’scompartmentafterthat?”askedPoirot.
“Well—notexactly.”
“Whatdoyoumeanbythat,Madame?”
“Well—”shepaused.“Hesnored.”
“Ah!hesnored,didhe?”
“Terribly.Thenightbeforeitquitekeptmeawake.”
“Youdidn’thearhimsnoreafteryouhadhadthescareaboutamanbeinginyourcompartment?”
“Why,Mr.Poirot,howcouldI?Hewasdead.”
“Ah,yes,truly,”saidPoirot.Heappearedconfused.
“DoyouremembertheaffairoftheArmstrongkidnapping,Mrs.Hubbard?”heasked.
“Yes,indeedIdo.Andhowthewretchthatdiditescapedscotfree!My,I’dhavelikedtogetmyhandsonhim.”
“Hehasnotescaped.Heisdead.Hediedlastnight.”
“Youdon’tmean—?”Mrs.Hubbardhalfrosefromherchairinexcitement.
“Butyes,Ido.Ratchettwastheman.”
“Well!Well,tothinkofthat!Imustwriteandtellmydaughter.Now,didn’tItellyoulastnightthatthatmanhadanevilface?Iwasright,yousee.Mydaughteralwayssays:‘WhenMomma’sgotahunch,youcanbetyourbottomdollarit’sO.K.’”
“WereyouacquaintedwithanyoftheArmstrongfamily,Mrs.Hubbard?”
“No.Theymovedinaveryexclusivecircle.ButI’vealwaysheardthatMrs.Armstrongwasaperfectlylovelywomanandthatherhusbandworshippedher.”
“Well,Mrs.Hubbard,youhavehelpedusverymuch—verymuchindeed.Perhapsyouwillgivemeyourfullname?”
“Why,certainly.CarolineMarthaHubbard.”
“Willyouwriteyouraddressdownhere?”
Mrs.Hubbarddidso,withoutceasingtospeak.
“Ijustcan’tgetoverit.Cassetti—onthistrain.Ihadahunchaboutthatman,didn’tI,Mr.Poirot?”
“Yes,indeed,Madame.Bytheway,haveyouascarletsilkdressinggown?”
“Mercy,whatanoddquestion!Why,no.I’vegottwodressinggownswithme—apinkflannelonethat’skindofcosyforonboardship,andonemydaughtergavemeasapresent—akindoflocalaffairinpurplesilk.Butwhatincreationdoyouwanttoknowaboutmydressinggownsfor?”
“Well,yousee,Madame,someoneinascarletkimonoenteredeitheryourorMr.Ratchett’scompartmentlastnight.Itis,asyousaidjustnow,verydifficultwhenallthedoorsareshuttoknowwhichcompartmentiswhich.”
“Well,nooneinascarletdressinggowncameintomycompartment.”
“ThenshemusthavegoneintoM.Ratchett’s.”
Mrs.Hubbardpursedherlipstogetherandsaidgrimly:
“Thatwouldn’tsurprisemeany.”
Poirotleanedforward.
“Soyouheardawoman’svoicenextdoor?”
“Idon’tknowhowyouguessedthat,Mr.Poirot.Idon’treally.But—well—asamatteroffact,Idid.”
“ButwhenIaskedyoujustnowifyouheardanythingnextdoor,youonlysaidyouheardMr.Ratchettsnoring.”
“Wellthatwastrueenough.Hedidsnorepartofthetime.Asfortheother—”Mrs.Hubbardgotratherpink.“Itisn’taverynicethingtospeakabout.”
“Whattimewasitwhenyouheardawoman’svoice?”
“Ican’ttellyou.Ijustwokeupforaminuteandheardawomantalking,anditwasplainenoughwhereshewas.SoIjustthought,‘Wellthat’sthekindofmanheis.Well,I’mnotsurprised,’andthenIwenttosleepagain,andI’msureIshouldneverhavementionedanythingofthekindtothreestrangegentlemenifyouhadn’tdraggeditoutofme.”
“Wasitbeforethescareaboutthemaninyourcompartment,orafter?”
“Why,that’slikewhatyousaidjustnow!Hewouldn’thavehadawomantalkingtohimifheweredead,wouldhe?”
“Pardon.Youmustthinkmeverystupid,Madame.”
“Iguessevenyougetkindermuddlednowandthen.Ijustcan’tgetoveritbeingthatmonsterCassetti.Whatmydaughterwillsay—”
Poirotmanagedadroitlytohelpthegoodladytorestorethecontentsofherhandbagandhethenshepherdedhertowardsthedoor.
Atthelastmomenthesaid:
“Youhavedroppedyourhandkerchief,Madame.”
Mrs.Hubbardlookedatthelittlescrapofcambricheheldouttoher.
“That’snotmine,Mr.Poirot.I’vegotminerighthere.”
“Pardon.IthoughtasithadtheinitialHonit—”
“Well,now,that’scurious,butit’scertainlynotmine.MinearemarkedC.M.H.,andthey’resensiblethings—notexpensiveParisfallals.Whatgoodisahandkerchieflikethattoanybody’snose?”
Neitherofthethreemenseemedtohaveananswertothisquestion,andMrs.Hubbardsailedouttriumphantly.
Five
THEEVIDENCEOFTHESWEDISHLADY
M.BoucwashandlingthebuttonMrs.Hubbardhadleftbehindher.
“Thisbutton.Icannotunderstandit.Doesitmeanthat,afterall,PierreMichelisinvolvedinsomeway?”hesaid.Hepaused,thencontinued,asPoirotdidnotreply.“Whathaveyoutosay,myfriend?”
“Thatbutton,itsuggestspossibilities,”saidPoirotthoughtfully.“LetusinterviewnexttheSwedishladybeforewediscusstheevidencewehaveheard.”
Hesortedthroughthepileofpassportsinfrontofhim.
“Ah!hereweare.GretaOhlsson,ageforty-nine.”M.Boucgavedirectionstotherestaurantattendant,andpresentlytheladywiththeyellowish-greybunofhairandthelongmildsheep-likefacewasusheredin.ShepeeredshortsightedlyatPoirotthroughherglasses,butwasquitecalm.
IttranspiredthatsheunderstoodandspokeFrench,sothattheconversationtookplaceinthatlanguage.Poirotfirstaskedherthequestionstowhichhealreadyknewtheanswers—hername,age,andaddress.Hethenaskedherheroccupation.
Shewas,shetoldhim,matroninamissionaryschoolnearStamboul.Shewasatrainednurse.
“Youknow,ofcourse,ofwhattookplacelastnight,Mademoiselle?”
“Naturally.Itisverydreadful.AndtheAmericanladytellsmethatthemurdererwasactuallyinhercompartment.”
“Ihear,Mademoiselle,thatyouwerethelastpersontoseethemurderedmanalive?”
“Idonotknow.Itmaybeso.Iopenedthedoorofhiscompartmentbymistake.Iwasmuchashamed.Itwasamostawkwardmistake.”
“Youactuallysawhim?”
“Yes.Hewasreadingabook.Iapologizedquicklyandwithdrew.”
“Didhesayanythingtoyou?”
Aslightflushshowedontheworthylady’scheek.
“Helaughedandsaidafewwords.I—Ididnotquitecatchthem.”
“Andwhatdidyoudoafterthat,Mademoiselle?”askedPoirot,passingfromthesubjecttactfully.
“IwentintotheAmericanlady,Mrs.Hubbard.Iaskedherforsomeaspirinandshegaveittome.”
“DidsheaskyouwhetherthecommunicatingdoorbetweenhercompartmentandthatofM.Ratchettwasbolted?”
“Yes.”
“Andwasit?”
“Yes.”
“Andafterthat?”
“AfterthatIgobacktomyowncompartment,Itaketheaspirinandliedown.”
“Whattimewasallthis?”
“WhenIgotintobeditwasfiveminutestoeleven,becauseIlookatmywatchbeforeIwinditup.”
“Didyougotosleepquickly?”
“Notveryquickly.Myheadgotbetter,butIlayawakesometime.”
“Hadthetraincometoastopbeforeyouwenttosleep?”
“Idonotthinkso.Westopped,Ithink,atastation,justasIwasgettingdrowsy.”
“ThatwouldbeVincovci.Nowyourcompartment,Mademoiselle,isthisone?”heindicateditontheplan.
“Thatisso,yes.”
“Youhadtheupperorthelowerberth?”
“Thelowerberth,No.10.”
“Andyouhadacompanion?”
“Yes,ayoungEnglishlady.Verynice,veryamiable.ShehadtravelledfromBaghdad.”
“AfterthetrainleftVincovci,didsheleavethecompartment?”
“No,Iamsureshedidnot.”
“Whyareyousureifyouwereasleep?”
“Isleepverylightly.Iamusedtowakingatasound.IamsureifshehadcomedownfromtheberthaboveIwouldhaveawakened.”
“Didyouyourselfleavethecompartment?”
“Notuntilthismorning.”
“Haveyouascarletsilkkimono,Mademoiselle?”
“No,indeed.IhaveagoodcomfortabledressinggownofJaegermaterial.”
“ApalemauveabbasuchasyoubuyintheEast.”
Poirotnodded.Thenhesaidinafriendlytone:
“Whyareyoutakingthisjourney?Aholiday?”
“Yes,Iamgoinghomeforaholiday.ButfirstIgotoLausannetostaywithasisterforaweekorso.”
“Perhapsyouwillbesoamiableastowritemedownthenameandaddressofyoursister?”
“Withpleasure.”
Shetookthepaperandpencilhegaveherandwrotedownthenameandaddressasrequested.
“HaveyoueverbeeninAmerica,Mademoiselle?”
“No.Verynearlyonce.Iwastogowithaninvalidlady,butitwascancelledatthelastmoment.Imuchregretted.Theyareverygood,theAmericans.Theygivemuchmoneytofoundschoolsandhospitals.Theyareverypractical.”
“DoyourememberhearingoftheArmstrongkidnappingcase?”
“No,whatwasthat?”
Poirotexplained.
GretaOhlssonwasindignant.Heryellowbunofhairquiveredwithheremotion.
“Thatthereareintheworldsuchevilmen!Ittriesone’sfaith.Thepoormother.Myheartachesforher.”
TheamiableSwededeparted,herkindlyfaceflushed,hereyessuffusedwithtears.
Poirotwaswritingbusilyonasheetofpaper.
“Whatisityouwritethere,myfriend?”askedM.Bouc.
“Moncher,itismyhabittobeneatandorderly.Imakeherealittletableofchronologicalevents.”
HefinishedwritingandpassedthepapertoM.Bouc.
9:15TrainleavesBelgrade.
about9:40ValetleavesRatchettwithsleepingdraughtbesidehim.
about10:00MacQueenleavesRatchett.
about10:40GretaOhlssonseesRatchett(lastseenalive).N.B.—Hewasawakereadingabook.
0:10TrainleavesVincovci(late).
0:30Trainrunsintoasnowdrift.
0:37Ratchett’sbellrings.Conductoranswersit.Ratchettsays,“Cen’estrien.Jemesuistrompé.”
about1:17Mrs.Hubbardthinksmanisinhercarriage.Ringsforconductor.
M.Boucnoddedapproval.
“Thatisveryclear,”hesaid.
“Thereisnothingtherethatstrikesyouasatallodd?”
“No,itseemsallquiteclearandaboveboard.Itseemsquiteplainthatthecrimewascommittedat1:15.Theevidenceofthewatchshowsusthat,andMrs.Hubbard’sstoryfitsin.Formymind,Iwillmakeaguessattheidentityofthemurderer.Isay,myfriend,thatitisthebigItalian.HecomesfromAmerica—fromChicago—andrememberanItalian’sweaponistheknife,andhestabsnotoncebutseveraltimes.”
“Thatistrue.”
“Withoutadoubt,thatisthesolutionofthemystery.DoubtlessheandthisRatchettwereinthiskidnappingbusinesstogether.CassettiisanItalianname.InsomewayRatchettdidonhimwhattheycallthedouble-cross.TheItaliantrackshimdown,sendshimwarninglettersfirst,andfinallyrevengeshimselfuponhiminabrutalway.Itisallquitesimple.”
Poirotshookhisheaddoubtfully.
“Itishardlyassimpleasthat,Ifear,”hemurmured.
“Me,Iamconvinceditisthetruth,”saidM.Bouc,becomingmoreandmoreenamouredofhistheory.
“AndwhataboutthevaletwiththetoothachewhoswearsthattheItalianneverleftthecompartment?”
“Thatisthedifficulty.”
Poirottwinkled.
“Yes,itisannoying,that.Unluckyforyourtheory,andextremelyluckyforourItalianfriendthatM.Ratchett’svaletshouldhavehadthetoothache.”
“Itwillbeexplained,”saidM.Boucwithmagnificentcertainty.
Poirotshookhisheadagain.
“No,itishardlysosimpleasthat,”hemurmuredagain.
Six
THEEVIDENCEOFTHERUSSIANPRINCESS
“LetushearwhatPierreMichelhastosayaboutthisbutton,”hesaid.
TheWagonLitconductorwasrecalled.Helookedattheminquiringly.
M.Boucclearedhisthroat.
“Michel,”hesaid.“Hereisabuttonfromyourtunic.ItwasfoundintheAmericanlady’scompartment.Whathaveyoutosayforyourselfaboutit?”
Theconductor’shandwentautomaticallytohistunic.
“Ihavelostnobutton,Monsieur,”hesaid.“Theremustbesomemistake.”
“Thatisveryodd.”
“Icannotaccountforit,Monsieur.”
Themanseemedastonished,butnotinanywayguiltyorconfused.
M.Boucsaidmeaningly:
“Owingtothecircumstancesinwhichitwasfound,itseemsfairlycertainthatthisbuttonwasdroppedbythemanwhowasinMrs.Hubbard’scompartmentlastnightwhensherangthebell.”
“But,Monsieur,therewasnoonethere.Theladymusthaveimaginedit.”
“Shedidnotimagineit,Michael.TheassassinofM.Ratchettpassedthatway—anddroppedthatbutton.”
AsthesignificanceofM.Bouc’swordbecameplaintohim,PierreMichelflewintoaviolentstateofagitation.
“Itisnottrue,Monsieur,itisnottrue!”hecried.“Youareaccusingmeofthecrime.Me?Iaminnocent.Iamabsolutelyinnocent.WhyshouldIwanttokillaMonsieurwhomIhaveneverseenbefore?”
“WherewereyouwhenMrs.Hubbard’sbellrang?”
“Itoldyou,Monsieur,inthenextcoach,talkingtomycolleague.”
“Wewillsendforhim.”
“Doso,Monsieur,Iimploreyou,doso.”
Theconductorofthenextcoachwassummoned.HeimmediatelyconfirmedPierreMichel’sstatement.HeaddedthattheconductorfromtheBucharestcoachhadalsobeenthere.Thethreeofthemhadbeendiscussingthesituationcausedbythesnow.TheyhadbeentalkingsometenminuteswhenMichelfanciedheheardabell.Asheopenedthedoorsconnectingthetwocoaches,theyhadallhearditplainly.Abellringingrepeatedly.Michelhadrunposthastetoanswerit.
“Soyousee,Monsieur,Iamnotguilty,”criedMichelanxiously.
“AndthisbuttonfromaWagonLittunic—howdoyouexplainit?”
“Icannot,Monsieur.Itisamysterytome.Allmybuttonsareintact.”
Bothoftheotherconductorsalsodeclaredthattheyhadnotlostabutton.AlsothattheyhadnotbeeninsideMrs.Hubbard’scompartmentatanytime.
“Calmyourself,Michel,”saidM.Bouc,“andcastyourmindbacktothemomentwhenyourantoanswerMrs.Hubbard’sbell.Didyoumeetanyoneatallinthecorridor?”
“No,Monsieur.”
“Didyouseeanyonegoingawayfromyoudownthecorridorintheotherdirection?”
“Again,no.Monsieur.”
“Odd,”saidM.Bouc.
“Notsovery,”saidPoirot.“Itisaquestionoftime.Mrs.Hubbardwakestofindsomeoneinhercompartment.Foraminuteortwosheliesparalysed,hereyesshut.Probablyitwasthenthatthemanslippedoutintothecorridor.Thenshestartsringingthebell.Buttheconductordoesnotcomeatonce.Itisonlythethirdorfourthpealthathehears.Ishouldsaymyselfthattherewasampletime—”
“Forwhat?Forwhat,moncher?Rememberthattherearethickdriftsofsnowallroundthetrain.”
“Therearetwocoursesopentoourmysteriousassassin,”saidPoirotslowly.“Hecouldretreatintoeitherofthetoiletsorhecoulddisappearintooneofthecompartments.”
“Buttheywerealloccupied.”
“Yes.”
“Youmeanthathecouldretreatintohisowncompartment?”
Poirotnodded.
“Itfits,itfits,”murmuredM.Bouc.“Duringthattenminutes’absenceoftheconductor,themurderercomesfromhisowncompartment,goesintoRatchett’s,killshim,locksandchainsthedoorontheinside,goesoutthroughMrs.Hubbard’scompartmentandisbacksafelyinhisowncompartmentbythetimetheconductorarrives.”
Poirotmurmured:
“Itisnotquitesosimpleasthat,myfriend.Ourfriendthedoctorherewilltellyouso.”
WithagestureM.Boucsignifiedthatthethreeconductorsmightdepart.
“Wehavestilltoseeeightpassengers,”saidPoirot.“Fivefirst-classpassengers—PrincessDragomiroff,CountandCountessAndrenyi,ColonelArbuthnotandMr.Hardman.Threesecond-classpassengers—MissDebenham,AntonioFoscarelliandthelady’smaid,Fr?uleinSchmidt.”
“Whowillyouseefirst—theItalian?”
“HowyouharponyourItalian!No,wewillstartatthetopofthetree.PerhapsMadamelaPrincessewillbesogoodastospareusafewmomentsofhertime.Conveythatmessagetoher,Michel.”
“Oui,Monsieur,”saidtheconductor,whowasjustleavingthecar.
“Tellherwecanwaitonherinhercompartmentifshedoesnotwishtoputherselftothetroubleofcominghere,”calledM.Bouc.
ButPrincessDragomiroffdeclinedtotakethiscourse.Sheappearedinthediningcar,inclinedherheadslightlyandsatdownoppositePoirot.
Hersmalltoad-likefacelookedevenyellowerthanthedaybefore.Shewascertainlyugly,andyet,likethetoad,shehadeyeslikejewels,darkandimperious,revealinglatentenergyandanintellectualforcethatcouldbefeltatonce.
Hervoicewasdeep,verydistinct,withaslightgratingqualityinit.
ShecutshortafloweryphraseofapologyfromM.Bouc.
“Youneednotofferapologies,Messieurs.Iunderstandamurderhastakenplace.Naturally,youmustinterviewallthepassengers.Ishallbegladtogivealltheassistanceinmypower.”
“Youaremostamiable,Madame,”saidPoirot.
“Notatall.Itisaduty.Whatdoyouwishtoknow?”
“YourfullChristiannamesandaddress,Madame.Perhapsyouwouldprefertowritethemyourself?”
Poirotprofferedasheetofpaperandpencil,butthePrincesswavedthemaside.
“Youcanwriteit,”shesaid.“Thereisnothingdifficult—NataliaDragomiroff,17AvenueKleber,Paris.”
“YouaretravellinghomefromConstantinople,Madame?”
“Yes,IhavebeenstayingattheAustrianEmbassy.Mymaidiswithme.”
“Wouldyoubesogoodastogivemeabriefaccountofyourmovementslastnightfromdinneronwards?”
“Willingly.IdirectedtheconductortomakeupmybedwhilstIwasinthediningcar.Iretiredtobedimmediatelyafterdinner.Ireaduntilthehourofeleven,whenIturnedoutmylight.IwasunabletosleepowingtocertainrheumaticpainsfromwhichIsuffer.AtaboutaquartertooneIrangformymaid.ShemassagedmeandthenreadaloudtillIfeltsleepy.Icannotsayexactlywhensheleftme.Itmayhavebeenhalfanhour,itmayhavebeenlater.”
“Thetrainhadstoppedthen?”
“Thetrainhadstopped.”
“Youheardnothing—nothingunusualduringthetime,Madame?”
“Iheardnothingunusual.”
“Whatisyourmaid’sname?”
“HildegardeSchmidt.”
“Shehasbeenwithyoulong?”
“Fifteenyears.”
“Youconsiderhertrustworthy?”
“Absolutely.Herpeoplecomefromanestateofmylatehusband’sinGermany.”
“YouhavebeeninAmerica,Ipresume,Madame?”
Theabruptchangeofsubjectmadetheoldladyraisehereyebrows.
“Manytimes.”
“WereyouatanytimeacquaintedwithafamilyofthenameofArmstrong—afamilyinwhichatragedyoccurred?”
Withsomeemotioninhervoicetheoldladysaid:
“Youspeakoffriendsofmine,Monsieur.”
“YouknewColonelArmstrongwell,then?”
“Iknewhimslightly;buthiswife,SoniaArmstrong,wasmygod-daughter.Iwasontermsoffriendshipwithhermother,theactress,LindaArden.LindaArdenwasagreatgenius,oneofthegreatesttragicactressesintheworld.AsLadyMacbeth,asMagda,therewasnoonetotouchher.Iwasnotonlyanadmirerofherart,Iwasapersonalfriend.”
“Sheisdead?”
“No,no,sheisalive,butshelivesincompleteretirement.Herhealthisverydelicate,shehastolieonasofamostofthetime.”
“Therewas,Ithink,aseconddaughter?”
“Yes,muchyoungerthanMrs.Armstrong.”
“Andsheisalive?”
“Certainly.”
“Whereisshe?”
Theoldwomanbentanacuteglanceathim.
“Imustaskyouthereasonofthesequestions.Whathavetheytodowiththematterinhand—themurderonthistrain?”
“Theyareconnectedinthisway,Madame,themanwhowasmurderedwasthemanresponsibleforthekidnappingandmurderofMrs.Armstrong’schild.”
“Ah!”
Thestraightbrowsdrewtogether.PrincessDragomiroffdrewherselfalittlemoreerect.
“Inmyview,then,thismurderisanentirelyadmirablehappening!Youwillpardonmyslightlybiasedpointofview.”
“Itismostnatural,Madame.Andnowtoreturntothequestionyoudidnotanswer.WhereistheyoungerdaughterofLindaArden,thesisterofMrs.Armstrong?”
“Ihonestlycannottellyou,Monsieur.Ihavelosttouchwiththeyoungergeneration.IbelieveshemarriedanEnglishmansomeyearsagoandwenttoEngland,butatthemomentIcannotrecollectthename.”
Shepausedaminuteandthensaid:
“Isthereanythingfurtheryouwanttoaskme,gentlemen?”
“Onlyonething,Madame,asomewhatpersonalquestion.Thecolourofyourdressinggown.”
Sheraisedhereyebrowsslightly.
“Imustsupposeyouhaveareasonforsuchaquestion.Mydressinggownisofbluesatin.”
“Thereisnothingmore,Madame.Iammuchobligedtoyouforansweringmyquestionssopromptly.”
Shemadeaslightgesturewithherheavily-beringedhand.
Then,assherose,andtheothersrosewithher,shestopped.
“Youwillexcuseme,Monsieur,”shesaid,“butmayIaskyourname?Yourfaceissomehowfamiliartome.”
“Myname,Madame,isHerculePoirot—atyourservice.”
Shewassilentaminute,then:
“HerculePoirot,”shesaid.“Yes.Iremembernow.ThisisDestiny.”
Shewalkedaway,veryerect,alittlestiffinhermovements.
“Voilàunegrandedame,”saidM.Bouc.“Whatdoyouthinkofher,myfriend?”
ButHerculePoirotmerelyshookhishead.
“Iamwondering,”hesaid,“whatshemeantbyDestiny.”
Seven
THEEVIDENCEOFCOUNTANDCOUNTESSANDRENYI
CountandCountessAndrenyiwerenextsummoned.TheCount,however,enteredthediningcaralone.
Therewasnodoubtthathewasafine-lookingmanseenfacetoface.Hewasatleastsixfeetinheight,withbroadshouldersandslenderhips.Hewasdressedinverywell-cutEnglishtweeds,andmighthavebeentakenforanEnglishmanhaditnotbeenforthelengthofhismoustacheandsomethinginthelineofthecheekbone.
“Well,Messieurs,”hesaid,“whatcanIdoforyou?”
“Youunderstand,Monsieur,”saidPoirot,“thatinviewofwhathasoccurredIamobligedtoputcertainquestionstoallthepassengers.”
“Perfectly,perfectly,”saidtheCounteasily.“Iquiteunderstandyourposition.Not,Ifear,thatmywifeandIcandomuchtoassistyou.Wewereasleepandheardnothingatall.”
“Areyouawareoftheidentityofthedeceased,Monsieur?”
“IunderstanditwasthebigAmerican—amanwithadecidedlyunpleasantface.Hesatatthetableatmealtimes.”
HeindicatedwithanodofhisheadthetableatwhichRatchettandMacQueenhadsat.
“Yes,yes,Monsieur,youareperfectlycorrect.Imeantdidyouknowthenameoftheman?”
“No.”TheCountlookedthoroughlypuzzledbyPoirot’squeries.
“Ifyouwanttoknowhisname,”hesaid,“surelyitisonhispassport?”
“ThenameonhispassportisRatchett,”saidPoirot.“Butthat,Monsieur,isnothisrealname.HeisthemanCassetti,whowasresponsibleforacelebratedkidnappingoutrageinAmerica.”
HewatchedtheCountcloselyashespoke,butthelatterseemedquiteunaffectedbythepieceofnews.Hemerelyopenedhiseyesalittle.
“Ah!”hesaid.“Thatcertainlyshouldthrowlightuponthematter.AnextraordinarycountryAmerica.”
“Youhavebeenthere,perhaps,MonsieurleComte?”
“IwasinWashingtonforayear.”
“Youknew,perhaps,theArmstrongfamily?”
“Armstrong—Armstrong—itisdifficulttorecall—onemetsomany.”
Hesmiled,shruggedhisshoulders.
“Buttocomebacktothematterinhand,gentlemen,”hesaid.“WhatmorecanIdotoassistyou?”
“Youretiredtorest—when,MonsieurleComte?”
HerculePoirot’seyesstoletohisplan.CountandCountessAndrenyioccupiedcompartmentsNo.12and13adjoining.
“Wehadonecompartmentmadeupforthenightwhilstwewereinthediningcar.Onreturningwesatintheotherforawhile—”
“Whatnumberwouldthatbe?”
“No.13.Weplayedpicquettogether.Abouteleveno’clockmywiferetiredforthenight.TheconductormadeupmycompartmentandIalsowenttobed.Isleptsoundlyuntilmorning.”
“Didyounoticethestoppingofthetrain?”
“Iwasnotawareofittillthismorning.”
“Andyourwife?”
TheCountsmiled.
“Mywifealwaystakesasleepingdraughtwhentravellingbytrain.Shetookherusualdoseoftrional.”
Hepaused.
“IamsorryIamnotabletoassistyouinanyway.”
Poirotpassedhimasheetofpaperandapen.
“Thankyou,MonsieurleComte.Itisaformality,butwillyoujustletmehaveyournameandaddress?”
TheCountwroteslowlyandcarefully.
“ItisjustaswellIshouldwritethisforyou,”hesaidpleasantly.“Thespellingofmycountryestateisalittledifficultforthoseunacquaintedwiththelanguage.”
HepassedthepaperacrosstoPoirotandrose.
“Itwillbequiteunnecessaryformywifetocomehere,”hesaid.“ShecantellyounothingmorethanIhave.”
AlittlegleamcameintoPoirot’seye.
“Doubtless,doubtless,”hesaid.“ButallthesameIthinkIshouldliketohavejustonelittlewordwithMadamelaComtesse.”
“Iassureyouitisquiteunnecessary.”
Hisvoicerangoutauthoritatively.
Poirotblinkedgentlyathim.
“Itwillbeamereformality,”hesaid.“Butyouunderstand,itisnecessaryformyreport.”
“Asyouplease.”
TheCountgavewaygrudgingly.Hemadeashort,foreignbowandleftthediningcar.
Poirotreachedoutahandtoapassport.ItsetouttheCount’snameandtitles.Hepassedontothefurtherinformation—accompaniedbywife.ChristiannameElenaMaria;maidennameGoldenberg;agetwenty.Aspotofgreasehadbeendroppedsometimebyacarelessofficialonit.
“Adiplomaticpassport,”saidM.Bouc.“Wemustbecareful,myfriend,togivenooffence.Thesepeoplecanhavenothingtodowiththemurder.”
“Beeasy,monvieux,Iwillbemosttactful.Amereformality.”
HisvoicedroppedastheCountessAndrenyienteredthediningcar.Shelookedtimidandextremelycharming.
“Youwishtoseeme,Messieurs?”
“Amereformality,MadamelaComtesse.”Poirotrosegallantly,bowedherintotheseatoppositehim.“Itisonlytoaskyouifyousaworheardanythinglastnightthatmaythrowlightuponthismatter.”
“Nothingatall,Monsieur.Iwasasleep.”
“Youdidnothear,forinstance,acommotiongoingoninthecompartmentnexttoyours?TheAmericanladywhooccupiesithadquiteanattackofhystericsandrangfortheconductor.”
“Iheardnothing,Monsieur.Yousee,Ihadtakenasleepingdraught.”
“Ah!Icomprehend.Well,Ineednotdetainyoufurther.”Then,assheroseswiftly,“Justonelittleminute—theseparticulars,yourmaidenname,ageandsoon,theyarecorrect?”
“Quitecorrect,Monsieur.”
“Perhapsyouwillsignthismemorandumtothateffect,then.”
Shesignedquickly,agracefulslantinghandwriting.
ElenaAndrenyi.
“DidyouaccompanyyourhusbandtoAmerica,Madame?”
“No,Monsieur.”Shesmiled,flushedalittle.“Wewerenotmarriedthen;wehaveonlybeenmarriedayear.”
“Ahyes,thankyou,Madame.Bytheway,doesyourhusbandsmoke?”
Shestaredathimasshestoodpoisedfordeparture.
“Yes.”
“Apipe?”
“No.Cigarettesandcigars.”
“Ah!Thankyou.”
Shelingered;hereyeswatchedhimcuriously.Lovelyeyestheywere,darkandalmondshaped,withverylongblacklashesthatswepttheexquisitepallorofhercheeks.Herlips,veryscarlet,intheforeignfashion,werepartedjustalittle.Shelookedexoticandbeautiful.
“Whydidyouaskmethat?”
“Madame,”Poirotwavedanairyhand,“detectiveshavetoaskallsortsofquestions.Forinstance,perhapsyouwilltellmethecolourofyourdressinggown?”
Shestaredathim.Thenshelaughed.
“Itiscorn-colouredchiffon.Isthatreallyimportant?”
“Veryimportant,Madame.”
Sheaskedcuriously:
“Areyoureallyadetective,then?”
“Atyourservice,Madame.”
“IthoughttherewerenodetectivesonthetrainwhenitpassedthroughYugo-Slavia—notuntilonegottoItaly.”
“IamnotaYugo-Slaviandetective,Madame.Iamaninternationaldetective.”
“YoubelongtotheLeagueofNations?”
“Ibelongtotheworld,Madame,”saidPoirotdramatically.Hewenton,“IworkmainlyinLondon.YouspeakEnglish?”headdedinthatlanguage.
“Ispeakaleetle,yes.”
Heraccentwascharming.
Poirotbowedoncemore.
“Wewillnotdetainyoufurther,Madame.Yousee,itwasnotsoveryterrible.”
Shesmiled,inclinedherheadanddeparted.
“Elleestjoliefemme,”saidM.Boucappreciatively.
Hesighed.
“Well,thatdidnotadvanceusmuch.”
“No,”saidPoirot.“Twopeoplewhosawnothingandheardnothing.”
“ShallwenowseetheItalian?”
Poirotdidnotreplyforamoment.HewasstudyingagreasespotonaHungariandiplomaticpassport.
Eight
THEEVIDENCEOFCOLONELARBUTHNOT
Poirotrousedhimselfwithaslightstart.HiseyestwinkledalittleastheymettheeageronesofM.Bouc.
“Ah!mydearoldfriend,”hesaid.“Yousee,Ihavebecomewhattheycallthesnob!Thefirst-class,Ifeelitshouldbeattendedtobeforethesecond-class.Next,Ithink,wewillinterviewthegoodlookingColonelArbuthnot.”
FindingtheColonel’sFrenchtobeofaseverelylimiteddescription,PoirotconductedhisinterrogationinEnglish.
Arbuthnot’sname,age,homeaddressandexactmilitarystandingwereallascertained.Poirotproceeded:
“ItisthatyoucomehomefromIndiaonwhatiscalledtheleave—whatwecallenpermission?”
ColonelArbuthnot,uninterestedinwhatapackofforeignerscalledanything,repliedwithtrueBritishbrevity:
“Yes.”
“ButyoudonotcomehomeontheP.&O.boat?”
“No.”
“Whynot?”
“Ichosetocomebytheoverlandrouteforreasonsofmyown.”
“Andthat,”hismannerseemedtosay,“isoneforyou,youinterferinglittlejackanapes.”
“YoucamestraightthroughfromIndia?”
TheColonelreplieddryly:
“IstoppedforonenighttoseeUroftheChaldeesandforthreedaysinBaghdadwiththeA.O.C.,whohappenstobeanoldfriendofmine.”
“YoustoppedthreedaysinBaghdad.IunderstandthattheyoungEnglishlady,MissDebenham,alsocomesfromBaghdad.Perhapsyoumetherthere?”
“No,Ididnot.IfirstmetMissDebenhamwhensheandIsharedtherailwayconvoycarfromKirkuktoNissibin.”
Poirotleanedforward.Hebecamepersuasiveandalittlemoreforeignthanheneedhavebeen.
“Monsieur,Iamabouttoappealtoyou.YouandMissDebenhamaretheonlytwoEnglishpeopleonthetrain.ItisnecessarythatIshouldaskyoueachyouropinionoftheother.”
“Highlyirregular,”saidColonelArbuthnotcoldly.
“Notso.Yousee,thiscrime,itwasmostprobablycommittedbyawoman.Themanwasstabbednolessthantwelvetimes.Eventhechefdetrainsaidatonce,‘Itisawoman.’Well,then,whatismyfirsttask?TogiveallthewomentravellingontheStamboul-CalaiscoachwhatAmericanscallthe‘onceover.’ButtojudgeofanEnglishwomanisdifficult.Theyareveryreserved,theEnglish.SoIappealtoyou,Monsieur,intheinterestsofjustice.WhatsortofapersonisthisMissDebenham?Whatdoyouknowabouther?”
“MissDebenham,”saidtheColonelwithsomewarmth,“isalady.”
“Ah!”saidPoirotwitheveryappearanceofbeingmuchgratified.“Soyoudonotthinkthatsheislikelytobeimplicatedinthiscrime?”
“Theideaisabsurd,”saidArbuthnot.“Themanwasaperfectstranger—shehadneverseenhimbefore.”
“Didshetellyouso?”
“Shedid.Shecommentedatonceuponhissomewhatunpleasantappearance.Ifawomanisconcerned,asyouseemtothink(tomymindwithoutanyevidencebutmereassumption),IcanassureyouthatMissDebenhamcouldnotpossiblybeindicated.”
“Youfeelwarmlyinthematter,”saidPoirotwithasmile.
ColonelArbuthnotgavehimacoldstare
“Ireallydon’tknowwhatyoumean,”hesaid.
ThestareseemedtoabashPoirot.Hedroppedhiseyesandbeganfiddlingwiththepapersinfrontofhim.
“Allthisisbytheway,”hesaid.“Letusbepracticalandcometofacts.Thiscrime,wehavereasontobelieve,tookplaceataquarterpastonelastnight.Itispartofthenecessaryroutinetoaskeveryoneonthetrainwhatheorshewasdoingatthattime.”
“Quiteso.Ataquarterpastone,tothebestofmybelief,IwastalkingtotheyoungAmericanfellow—secretarytothedeadman.”
“Ah!Wereyouinhiscompartment,orwasheinyours?”
“Iwasinhis.”
“ThatistheyoungmanofthenameofMacQueen?”
“Yes.”
“Hewasafriendoracquaintanceofyours?”
“No,Ineversawhimbeforethisjourney.Wefellintocasualconversationyesterdayandbothbecameinterested.Idon’tasarulelikeAmericans—haven’tanyusefor’em—”
Poirotsmiled,rememberingMacQueen’sstrictureson“Britishers.”
“—ButIlikedthisyoungfellow.He’dgotholdofsometom-foolidioticideasaboutthesituationinIndia;that’stheworstofAmericans—they’resosentimentalandidealistic.Well,hewasinterestedinwhatIhadtotellhim.I’vehadnearlythirtyyearsexperienceofthecountry.AndIwasinterestedinwhathehadtotellmeaboutthefinancialsituationinAmerica.Thenwegotdowntoworldpoliticsingeneral.Iwasquitesurprisedtolookatmywatchandfinditwasaquartertotwo.”
“Thatisthetimeyoubrokeupthisconversation?”
“Yes.”
“Whatdidyoudothen?”
“Walkedalongtomyowncompartmentandturnedin.”
“Yourbedwasmadeupready?”
“Yes.”
“Thatisthecompartment—letmesee—No.15—theonenextbutonetotheendawayfromthediningcar?”
“Yes.”
“Wherewastheconductorwhenyouwenttoyourcompartment?”
“Sittingattheendatalittletable.Asamatteroffact,MacQueencalledhimjustasIwenttomyowncompartment.”
“Whydidhecallhim?”
“Tomakeuphisbed,Isuppose.Thecompartmenthadn’tbeenmadeupforthenight.”
“Now,ColonelArbuthnot,Iwantyoutothinkcarefully.DuringthetimeyouweretalkingtoMr.MacQueendidanyonepassalongthecorridoroutsidethedoor?”
“Agoodmanypeople,Ishouldthink.Iwasn’tpayingattention.”
“Ah!butIamreferringto—letussaythelasthourandahalfofyourconversation.YougotoutatVincovci,didn’tyou?”
“Yes,butonlyforaboutaminute.Therewasablizzardon.Thecoldwassomethingfrightful.Madeonequitethankfultogetbacktothefug,thoughasaruleIthinkthewaythesetrainsareoverheatedissomethingscandalous.”
M.Boucsighed.
“Itisverydifficulttopleaseeverybody,”hesaid.“TheEnglish,theyopeneverything—thenothers,theycomealongandshuteverything.Itisverydifficult.”
NeitherPoirotnorColonelArbuthnotpaidanyattentiontohim.
“Now,Monsieur,castyourmindback,”saidPoirotencouragingly.“Itwascoldoutside.Youhavereturnedtothetrain.Yousitdownagain,yousmoke—perhapsacigarette,perhapsapipe—”
Hepausedforthefractionofasecond.
“Apipeforme.MacQueensmokedcigarettes.”
“Thetrainstartsagain.Yousmokeyourpipe.YoudiscussthestateofEurope—oftheworld.Itislatenow.Mostpeoplehaveretiredforthenight.Doesanyonepassthedoor—think?”
Arbuthnotfrownedintheeffortofremembrance.
“Difficulttosay,”hesaid.“Yousee,Iwasn’tpayinganyattention.”
“Butyouhavethesoldier’sobservationfordetail.Younoticewithoutnoticing,sotospeak.”
TheColonelthoughtagain,butshookhishead.
“Icouldn’tsay.Idon’trememberanyonepassingexcepttheconductor.Waitaminute—andtherewasawoman,Ithink.”
“Yousawher?Wassheold—young?”
“Didn’tseeher.Wasn’tlookingthatway.Justarustleandasortofsmellofscent.”
“Scent?Agoodscent?”
“Well,ratherfruity,ifyouknowwhatImean.Imeanyou’dsmellitahundredyardsaway.Butmindyou,”theColonelwentonhastily,“thismayhavebeenearlierintheevening.Yousee,asyousaidjustnow,itwasjustoneofthosethingsyounoticewithoutnoticing,sotospeak.SometimethateveningIsaidtomyself,‘Woman—scent—gotitonprettythick.’ButwhenitwasIcan’tbesure,exceptthat—why,yes,itmusthavebeenafterVincovci.”
“Why?”
“BecauseIremember—sniffing,youknow—justwhenIwastalkingabouttheutterwashoutStalin’sFiveYearPlanwasturningout.Iknowtheidea—woman—broughttheideaofthepositionofwomeninRussiaintomymind.AndIknowwehadn’tgotontoRussiauntilprettyneartheendofourtalk.”
“Youcan’tpinitdownmoredefinitelythanthat?”
“N-no.Itmusthavebeenroughlywithinthelasthalfhour.”
“Itwasafterthetrainhadstopped?”
Theothernodded.
“Yes,I’malmostsureitwas.”
“Well,wewillpassfromthat.HaveyoueverbeeninAmerica,ColonelArbuthnot?”
“Never.Don’twanttogo.”
“DidyoueverknowaColonelArmstrong?”
“Armstrong—Armstrong—I’veknowntwoorthreeArmstrongs.TherewasTommyArmstronginthe60th—youdon’tmeanhim?AndSelbyArmstrong—hewaskilledontheSomme.”
“ImeantheColonelArmstrongwhomarriedanAmericanwifeandwhoseonlychildwaskidnappedandkilled.”
“Ah,yes,Irememberreadingaboutthat—shockingaffair.Idon’tthinkIactuallyevercameacrossthefellow,though,ofcourse,Iknewofhim.TobyArmstrong.Nicefellow.Everybodylikedhim.Hehadaverydistinguishedcareer.GottheV.C.”
“ThemanwhowaskilledlastnightwasthemanresponsibleforthemurderofColonelArmstrong’schild.”
Arbuthnot’sfacegrewrathergrim.
“Theninmyopiniontheswinedeservedwhathegot.ThoughIwouldhavepreferredtohaveseenhimproperlyhanged—orelectrocuted,Isuppose,overthere.”
“Infact,ColonelArbuthnot,youpreferlawandordertoprivatevengeance?”
“Well,youcan’tgoabouthavingbloodfeudsandstabbingeachotherlikeCorsicansortheMafia,”saidtheColonel.“Saywhatyoulike,trialbyjuryisasoundsystem.”
Poirotlookedathimthoughtfullyforaminuteortwo.
“Yes,”hesaid.“Iamsurethatwouldbeyourview.Well,ColonelArbuthnot,IdonotthinkthereisanythingmoreIhavetoaskyou.Thereisnothingyouyourselfcanrecalllastnightthatinanywaystruckyou—orshallwesaystrikesyounowlookingback—assuspicious?”
Arbuthnotconsideredforamomentortwo.
“No,”hesaid.“Nothingatall.Unless—”hehesitated.
“Butyes,continue,Iprayofyou.”
“Well,it’snothingreally,”saidtheColonelslowly.“Butyousaidanything.”
“Yes,yes.Goon.”
“Oh,it’snothing.Ameredetail.ButasIgotbacktomycompartmentInoticedthatthedooroftheonebeyondmine—theendone,youknow—”
“Yes,No.16.”
“Well,thedoorofitwasnotquiteclosed.Andthefellowinsidepeeredoutinafurtivesortofway.Thenhepulledthedoortoquickly.Ofcourse,Iknowthere’snothinginthat—butitjuststruckmeasabitodd.Imean,it’squiteusualtoopenadoorandstickyourheadoutifyouwanttoseeanything.Butitwasthefurtivewayhediditthatcaughtmyattention.”
“Ye-es,”saidPoirotdoubtfully.
“Itoldyoutherewasnothingtoit,”saidArbuthnotapologetically.“Butyouknowwhatitis—earlyhoursofthemorning—everythingverystill—thethinghadasinisterlook—likeadetectivestory.Allnonsense,really.”
Herose.
“Well,ifyoudon’twantmeanymore—”
“Thankyou,ColonelArbuthnot,thereisnothingelse.”
Thesoldierhesitatedforaminute.Hisfirstnaturaldistasteforbeingquestionedby“foreigners”hadevaporated.
“AboutMissDebenham,”hesaidratherawkwardly.“Youcantakeitfrommethatshe’sallright.She’sapukkasahib.”
Flushingalittle,hewithdrew.
“What,”askedDr.Constantinewithinterest,“doesapukkasahibmean?”
“Itmeans,”saidPoirot,“thatMissDebenham’sfatherandbrotherswereatthesamekindofschoolasColonelArbuthnot.”
“Oh!”saidDr.Constantine,disappointed.“Thenithasnothingtodowiththecrimeatall.”
“Exactly,”saidPoirot.
Hefellintoareverie,beatingalighttattooonthetable.Thenhelookedup
“ColonelArbuthnotsmokesapipe,”hesaid.“InthecompartmentofMr.RatchettIfoundapipecleaner.M.Ratchettsmokedonlycigars.”
“Youthink—?”
“Heistheonlymansofarwhoadmitstosmokingapipe.AndheknewofColonelArmstrong—perhapsactuallydidknowhimthoughhewon’tadmitit.”
“Soyouthinkitpossible—”
Poirotshookhisheadviolently.
“Thatisjustit—itisimpossible—quiteimpossible—thatanhonourable,slightlystupid,uprightEnglishmanshouldstabanenemytwelvetimeswithaknife!Doyounotfeel,myfriends,howimpossibleitis?”
“Thatisthepsychology,”saidM.Bouc.
“Andonemustrespectthepsychology.ThiscrimehasasignatureanditiscertainlynotthesignatureofColonelArbuthnot.Butnowtoournextinterview.”
ThistimeM.BoucdidnotmentiontheItalian.Buthethoughtofhim.
Nine
THEEVIDENCEOFMR.HARDMAN
Thelastofthefirst-classpassengerstobeinterviewed—Mr.Hardman—wasthebigflamboyantAmericanwhohadsharedatablewiththeItalianandthevalet.
Heworeasomewhatloudchecksuit,apinkshirt,aflashytiepin,andwasrollingsomethingroundhistongueasheenteredthediningcar.Hehadabig,fleshy,coarse-featuredface,withagoodhumouredexpression.
“Morning,gentlemen,”hesaid.“WhatcanIdoforyou?”
“Youhaveheardofthismurder,Mr.—er—Hardman?”
“Sure.”
Heshiftedthechewinggumdeftly.
“Weareofnecessityinterviewingallthepassengersonthetrain.”
“That’sallrightbyme.Guessthat’stheonlywaytotacklethejob.”
Poirotconsultedthepassportlyinginfrontofhim.
“YouareCyrusBethmanHardman,UnitedStatessubject,forty-oneyearsofage,travellingsalesmanfortypewritingribbons?”
“O.K.,that’sme.”
“YouaretravellingfromStamboultoParis?”
“That’sso.”
“Reason?”
“Business.”
“Doyoualwaystravelfirst-class,Mr.Hardman?”
“Yes,sir.Thefirmpaysmytravellingexpenses.”
Hewinked.
“Now,Mr.Hardman,wecometotheeventsoflastnight.”
TheAmericannodded.
“Whatcanyoutellusaboutthematter?”
“Exactlynothingatall.”
“Ah,thatisapity.Perhaps,Mr.Hardman,youwilltellusexactlywhatyoudidlastnight,fromdinneronwards?”
ForthefirsttimetheAmericandidnotseemreadywithhisreply.Atlasthesaid:
“Excuseme,gentlemen,butjustwhoareyou?Putmewise.”
“ThisisM.Bouc,adirectoroftheCompagniedesWagonsLits.Thisgentlemanisthedoctorwhoexaminedthebody.”
“Andyouyourself?”
“IamHerculePoirot.Iamengagedbythecompanytoinvestigatethismatter.”
“I’veheardofyou,”saidMr.Hardman.Hereflectedaminuteortwolonger.“GuessI’dbettercomeclean.”
“Itwillcertainlybeadvisableforyoutotellusallyouknow,”saidPoirotdryly.
“You’dhavesaidamouthfuliftherewasanythingIdidknow.ButIdon’t.Iknownothingatall—justasIsaid.ButIoughttoknowsomething.That’swhatmakesmesore.Ioughtto.”
“Pleaseexplain,Mr.Hardman.”
Mr.Hardmansighed,removedthechewinggum,anddivedintoapocket.Atthesametimehiswholepersonalityseemedtoundergoachange.Hebecamelessofastagecharacterandmoreofarealperson.Theresonantnasaltonesofhisvoicebecamemodified.
“Thatpassport’sabitofbluff,”hesaid.“That’swhoIreallyam.”
Poirotscrutinizedthecardflippedacrosstohim.M.Boucpeeredoverhisshoulder.
Mr.CYRUSB.HARDMAN
McNeil’sDetectiveAgency,
NEWYORK
Poirotknewthename.ItwasoneofthebestknownandmostreputableprivatedetectiveagenciesinNewYork.
“Now,Mr.Hardman,”hesaid.“Letushearthemeaningofthis.”
“Sure.Thingscameaboutthisway.I’dcomeovertoEuropetrailingacoupleofcrooks—nothingtodowiththisbusiness.ThechaseendedinStamboul.IwiredtheChiefandgothisinstructionstoreturn,andIwouldhavebeenmakingmytracksbacktolittleoldNewYorkwhenIgotthis.”
Hepushedacrossaletter.
TheheadingatthetopwastheTokatlianHotel.
DearSir,—YouhavebeenpointedouttomeasanoperativeoftheMcNeilDetectiveAgency.Kindlyreporttomysuiteatfouro’clockthisafternoon
Itwassigned“S.E.Ratchett.”
“Ehbien?”
“IreportedatthetimestatedandMr.Ratchettputmewisetothesituation.Heshowedmeacoupleoflettershe’dgot.”
“Hewasalarmed?”
“Pretendednottobe,buthewasrattledallright.Heputupapropositiontome.IwastotravelbythesametrainashedidtoParrusandseethatnobodygothim.Well,gentlemen,Ididtravelbythesametrainand,inspiteofme,somebodydidgethim.Icertainlyfeelsoreaboutit.Itdoesn’tlookanytoogoodforme.”
“Didhegiveyouanyindicationofthelineyouweretotake?”
“Sure.Hehaditalltapedout.ItwashisideathatIshouldtravelinthecompartmentalongsidehis—well,thatwasblownuponstraightaway.TheonlyplaceIcouldgetwasberthNo.16,andIhadabitofajobgettingthat.Iguesstheconductorlikestokeepthatcompartmentuphissleeve.Butthat’sneitherherenorthere.WhenIlookedallroundthesituation,itseemedtomethatNo.16wasaprettygoodstrategicposition.TherewasonlythediningcarinfrontoftheStamboulsleepingcar,thedoorontotheplatformatthefrontendwasbarredatnight.Theonlywayathugcouldcomewasthroughtherearenddoortotheplatformoralongthetrainfromtherear—ineithercasehe’dhavetopassrightbymycompartment.”
“Youhadnoidea,Isuppose,oftheidentityofthepossibleassailant.”
“Well,Iknewwhathelookedlike.Mr.Ratchettdescribedhimtome.”
“What?”
Allthreemenleanedforwardeagerly.
Hardmanwenton:
“Asmallman,dark,withawomanishkindofvoice—that’swhattheoldmansaid.Said,too,thathedidn’tthinkitwouldbethefirstnightout.Morelikelythesecondorthird.”
“Heknewsomething,”saidM.Bouc.
“Hecertainlyknewmorethanhetoldhissecretary,”saidPoirotthoughtfully.“Didhetellyouanythingaboutthisenemyofhis?Didhe,forinstance,saywhyhislifewasthreatened?”
“No,hewaskinderreticentaboutthatpartofit.Justsaidthefellowwasoutforhisbloodandmeanttogetit.”
“Asmallman—dark—withawomanishvoice,”saidPoirotthoughtfully.
Then,fixingasharpglanceonHardman,hesaid:
“Youknewwhohereallywas,ofcourse?”
“Which,mister?”
“Ratchett.Yourecognizedhim?”
“Idon’tgetyou.”
“RatchettwasCassetti,theArmstrongmurderer.”
Mr.Hardmangavewaytoaprolongedwhistle.
“Thatcertainlyissomesurprise!”hesaid.“Yes,sir!No,Ididn’trecognizehim.IwasawayoutWestwhenthatcasecameon.IsupposeIsawphotosofhiminthepapers,butIwouldn’trecognizemyownmotherwhenapressphotographerhaddonewithher.Well,Idon’tdoubtthatafewpeoplehaditinforCassettiallright.”
“DoyouknowofanyoneconnectedwiththeArmstrongcasewhoanswerstothatdescription—small,dark,womanishvoice?”
Hardmanreflectedaminuteortwo.
“It’shardtosay.Prettynearlyeveryonetodowiththatcaseisdead.”
“Therewasthegirlwhothrewherselfoutofthewindow,remember.”
“Sure.That’sagoodpoint,that.Shewasaforeignerofsomekind.Maybeshehadsomewoprelations.Butyou’vegottorememberthattherewereothercasesbesidestheArmstrongcase.Cassettihadbeenrunningthiskidnappingstuntsometime.Youcan’tconcentrateonthatonly.”
“Ah,butwehavereasontobelievethatthiscrimeisconnectedwiththeArmstrongcase.”
Mr.Hardmancockedaninquiringeye.Poirotdidnotrespond.TheAmericanshookhishead.
“Ican’tcalltomindanybodyansweringthatdescriptionintheArmstrongcase,”hesaidslowly.“ButofcourseIwasn’tinitanddidn’tknowmuchaboutit.”
“Well,continueyournarrative,M.Hardman.”
“There’sverylittletotell.Igotmysleepinthedaytimeandstayedawakeonthewatchatnight.Nothingsuspicioushappenedthefirstnight.Lastnightwasthesame,asfarasIwasconcerned.Ihadmydooralittleajarandwatched.Nostrangerpassed.”
“Youaresureofthat,M.Hardman?”
“I’mplumbcertain.Nobodygotonthattrainfromoutsideandnobodycamealongthetrainfromtherearcarriages.I’lltakemyoathonthat.”
“Couldyouseetheconductorfromyourposition?”
“Sure.Hesitsonthatlittleseatalmostflushwithmydoor.”
“DidheleavethatseatatallafterthetrainstoppedatVincovci?”
“Thatwasthelaststation?Why,yes,heansweredacoupleofbells—thatwouldbejustafterthetraincametoahaltforgood.Then,afterthat,hewentpastmeintotherearcoach—wasthereaboutaquarterofanhour.Therewasabellringinglikemadandhecamebackrunning.Isteppedoutintothecorridortoseewhatitwasallabout—feltamitenervous,youunderstand—butitwasonlytheAmericandame.Shewasraisinghellaboutsomethingorother.Igrinned.Thenhewentontoanothercompartmentandcamebackandgotabottleofmineralwaterforsomeone.Afterthathesettleddowninhisseattillhewentuptothefarendtomakesomebody’sbedup.Idon’tthinkhestirredafterthatuntilaboutfiveo’clockthismorning.”
“Didhedozeoffatall?”
“ThatIcan’tsay.Hemayhavedone.”
Poirotnodded.Automaticallyhishandsstraightenedthepapersonthetable.Hepickeduptheofficialcardoncemore
“Besogoodasjusttoinitialthis,”hesaid.
Theothercomplied.
“Thereisnoone,Isuppose,whocanconfirmyourstoryofyouridentity,M.Hardman?”
“Onthistrain?Well,notexactly.UnlessitmightbeyoungMacQueen.Iknowhimwellenough—seenhiminhisfather’sofficeinNewYork—butthat’snottosayhe’llremembermefromacrowdofotheroperatives.No,Mr.Poirot,you’llhavetowaitandcableNewYorkwhenthesnowletsup.Butit’sO.K.I’mnottellingthetale.Well,solong,gentlemen.Pleasedtohavemetyou,Mr.Poirot.”
Poirotprofferedhiscigarettecase.
“Butperhapsyoupreferapipe?”
“Notme.”
Hehelpedhimself,thenstrodebrisklyoff.
Thethreemenlookedateachother.
“Youthinkheisgenuine?”askedDr.Constantine.
“Yes,yes.Iknowthetype.Besides,itisastorythatwouldbeveryeasilydisproved.”
“Hehasgivenusapieceofveryinterestingevidence,”saidM.Bouc.
“Yes,indeed.”
“Asmallman,dark,withahigh-pitchedvoice,”saidM.Boucthoughtfully.
“Adescriptionwhichappliestonooneonthetrain,”saidPoirot.
Ten
THEEVIDENCEOFTHEITALIAN
“Andnow,”saidPoirotwithatwinkleinhiseye,“wewilldelighttheheartofM.BoucandseetheItalian.”
AntonioFoscarellicameintothediningcarwithaswift,catliketread.Hisfacebeamed.ItwasatypicalItalianface,sunnylookingandswarthy.
HespokeFrenchwellandfluently,withonlyaslightaccent.
“YournameisAntonioFoscarelli?”
“Yes,Monsieur.”
“Youare,Isee,anaturalizedAmericansubject?”
TheAmericangrinned.
“Yes,Monsieur.Itisbetterformybusiness.”
“YouareanagentforFordmotorcars?”
“Yes,yousee—”
Avolubleexpositionfollowed.Attheendofit,anythingthatthethreemendidnotknowaboutFoscarelli’sbusinessmethods,hisjourneys,hisincome,andhisopinionoftheUnitedStatesandmostEuropeancountriesseemedanegligiblefactor.Thiswasnotamanwhohadtohaveinformationdraggedfromhim.Itgushedout.
Hisgood-naturedchildishfacebeamedwithsatisfactionaswithalasteloquentgesture,hepausedandwipedhisforeheadwithahandkerchief.
“Soyousee,”hesaid,“Idobigbusiness.Iamuptodate.Iunderstandsalesmanship!”
“YouhavebeenintheUnitedStates,then,forthelasttenyearsonandoff?”
“Yes,Monsieur.Ah!welldoIrememberthedayIfirsttooktheboat—togotoAmerica,sofaraway!Mymother,mylittlesister—”
Poirotcutshortthefloodofreminiscence.
“DuringyoursojournintheUnitedStatesdidyouevercomeacrossthedeceased?”
“Never.ButIknowthetype.Oh,yes.”Hesnappedhisfingersexpressively.“Itisveryrespectable,verywelldressed,butunderneathitisallwrong.Outofmyexperience,Ishouldsayhewasthebigcrook.Igiveyoumyopinionforwhatitisworth.”
“Youropinionisquiteright,”saidPoirotdryly.“RatchettwasCassetti,thekidnapper.”
“WhatdidItellyou?Ihavelearnedtobeveryacute—toreadtheface.Itisnecessary.OnlyinAmericadotheyteachyoutheproperwaytosell.”
“YouremembertheArmstrongcase?
“Idonotquiteremember.Thename,yes?Itwasalittlegirl—ababy—wasitnot?”
“Yes,averytragicaffair.”
TheItalianseemedthefirstpersontodemurtothisview.
“Ah,well,thesethingstheyhappen,”hesaidphilosophically,“inagreatcivilizationsuchasAmerica—”
Poirotcuthimshort.
“DidyouevercomeacrossanymembersoftheArmstrongfamily?”
“No,Idonotthinkso.Itisdifficulttosay.Iwillgiveyousomefigures.LastyearaloneIsold—”
“Monsieur,prayconfineyourselftothepoint.”
TheItalian’shandsflungthemselvesoutinagestureofapology.
“Athousandpardons.”
“Tellme,ifyouplease,yourexactmovementslastnightfromdinneronwards.”
“Withpleasure.IstayhereaslongasIcan.Itismoreamusing.ItalktotheAmericangentlemanatmytable.Hesellstypewriterribbons.ThenIgobacktomycompartment.Itisempty.ThemiserableJohnBullwhosharesitwithmeisawayattendingtohismaster.Atlasthecomesback—verylongfaceasusual.Hewillnottalk—saysyesandno.Amiserablerace,theEnglish—notsympathetic.Hesitsinthecorner,verystiff,readingabook.Thentheconductorcomesandmakesourbeds.”
“Nos.4and5,”murmuredPoirot.
“Exactly—theendcompartment.Mineistheupperberth.Igetupthere.Ismokeandread.ThelittleEnglishmanhas,Ithink,thetoothache.Hegetsoutalittlebottleofstuffthatsmellsverystrong.Heliesinbedandgroans.PresentlyIsleep.WheneverIwakeIhearhimgroaning.”
“Doyouknowifheleftthecarriageatallduringthenight?”
“Idonotthinkso.That,Ishouldhear.Thelightfromthecorridor—onewakesupautomaticallythinkingitistheCustomsexaminationatsomefrontier.”
“Didheeverspeakofhismaster?Everexpressanyanimusagainsthim?”
“Itellyouhedidnotspeak.Hewasnotsympathetic.Afish.”
“Yousmoke,yousay—apipe,cigarettes,cigars?”
“Cigarettesonly.”
Poirotprofferedhimonewhichheaccepted.
“HaveyoueverbeeninChicago?”inquiredM.Bouc.
“Oh,yes—afinecity—butIknowbestNewYork,Washington,Detroit.YouhavebeentotheStates?No?Youshouldgo,it—”
Poirotpushedasheetofpaperacrosstohim.
“Ifyouwillsignthis,andputyourpermanentaddress,please.”
TheItalianwrotewithaflourish.Thenherose—hissmilewasasengagingasever.
“Thatisall?Youdonotrequiremefurther?Gooddaytoyou,Messieurs.Iwishwecouldgetoutofthesnow.IhaveanappointmentinMilan—”Heshookhisheadsadly.“Ishalllosethebusiness.”
Hedeparted.
Poirotlookedathisfriend.
“HehasbeenalongtimeinAmerica,”saidM.Bouc,“andheisanItalian,andItaliansusetheknife!Andtheyaregreatliars!IdonotlikeItalians.”
“?asevoit,”saidPoirotwithasmile.“Well,itmaybethatyouareright,butIwillpointouttoyou,myfriend,thatthereisabsolutelynoevidenceagainsttheman.”
“Andwhataboutthepsychology?DonotItaliansstab?”
“Assuredly,”saidPoirot.“Especiallyintheheatofaquarrel.Butthis—thisisadifferentkindofcrime.Ihavethelittleidea,myfriend,thatthisisacrimeverycarefullyplannedandstaged.Itisafar-sighted,long-headedcrime.Itisnot—howshallIexpressit?—aLatincrime.Itisacrimethatshowstracesofacool,resourceful,deliberatebrain—IthinkanAnglo-Saxonbrain.”
Hepickedupthelasttwopassports.
“Letusnow,”hesaid,“seeMissMaryDebenham.”
Eleven
THEEVIDENCEOFMISSDEBENHAM
WhenMaryDebenhamenteredthediningcarsheconfirmedPoirot’spreviousestimateofher.
VeryneatlydressedinalittleblacksuitwithaFrenchgreyshirt,thesmoothwavesofherdarkheadwereneatandunruffled.Hermannerwasascalmandunruffledasherhair.
ShesatdownoppositePoirotandM.Boucandlookedattheminquiringly.
“YournameisMaryHermioneDebenham,andyouaretwenty-sixyearsofage?”beganPoirot.
“Yes.”
“English?”
“Yes.”
“Willyoubesokind,Mademoiselle,astowritedownyourpermanentaddressonthispieceofpaper?”
Shecomplied.Herwritingwasclearandlegible.
“Andnow,Mademoiselle,whathaveyoutotellusoftheaffairlastnight?”
“IamafraidIhavenothingtotellyou.Iwenttobedandslept.”
“Doesitdistressyouverymuch,Mademoiselle,thatacrimehasbeencommittedonthistrain?”
Thequestionwasclearlyunexpected.Hergreyeyeswidenedalittle.
“Idon’tquiteunderstandyou.”
“ItwasaperfectlysimplequestionthatIaskedyou,Mademoiselle.Iwillrepeatit.Areyouverymuchdistressedthatacrimeshouldhavebeencommittedonthistrain?”
“Ihavenotreallythoughtaboutitfromthatpointofview.No,IcannotsaythatIamatalldistressed.”
“Acrime—itisallintheday’sworktoyou,eh?”
“Itisnaturallyanunpleasantthingtohavehappen,”saidMaryDebenhamquietly.
“YouareveryAnglo-Saxon.Mademoiselle.Vousn’éprouvezpasd’émotion.”
Shesmiledalittle.
“IamafraidIcannothavehystericstoprovemysensibility.Afterall,peopledieeveryday.”
“Theydie,yes.Butmurderisalittlemorerare.”
“Oh,certainly.”
“Youwerenotacquaintedwiththedeadman?”
“Isawhimforthefirsttimewhenlunchinghereyesterday.”
“Andhowdidhestrikeyou?”
“Ihardlynoticedhim.”
“Hedidnotstrikeyouasanevilpersonality.”
Sheshruggedhershouldersslightly.
“Really,IcannotsayIthoughtaboutit.”
Poirotlookedatherkeenly.
“Youare,Ithink,alittlebitcontemptuousofthewayIprosecutemyinquiries,”hesaidwithatwinkle.“Notso,youthink,wouldanEnglishinquirybeconducted.Thereeverythingwouldbecutanddried—itwouldbeallkepttothefacts—awell-orderedbusiness.ButI,Mademoiselle,havemylittleoriginalities.Ilookfirstatmywitness,Isumuphisorhercharacter,andIframemyquestionsaccordingly.JustalittleminuteagoIamaskingquestionsofagentlemanwhowantstotellmeallhisideasoneverysubject.Well,himIkeepstrictlytothepoint.Iwanthimtoansweryesorno,thisorthat.Andthenyoucome.Iseeatoncethatyouwillbeorderlyandmethodical.Youwillconfineyourselftothematterinhand.Youranswerswillbebriefandtothepoint.Andbecause,Mademoiselle,humannatureisperverse,Iaskofyouquitedifferentquestions.Iaskwhatyoufeel,whatyouthought.Itdoesnotpleaseyouthismethod?”
“Ifyouwillforgivemysayingso,itseemssomewhatofawasteoftime.WhetherornotIlikedMr.Ratchett’sfacedoesnotseemlikelytobehelpfulinfindingoutwhokilledhim.”
“DoyouknowwhothemanRatchettreallywas,Mademoiselle?”
Shenodded.
“Mrs.Hubbardhasbeentellingeveryone.”
“AndwhatdoyouthinkoftheArmstrongaffair?”
“Itwasquiteabominable,”saidthegirlcrisply.
Poirotlookedatherthoughtfully.
“YouaretravellingfromBaghdad,Ibelieve,MissDebenham?”
“Yes.”
“ToLondon?”
“Yes.”
“WhathaveyoubeendoinginBaghdad?”
“Ihavebeenactingasgovernesstotwochildren.”
“Areyoureturningtoyourpostafteryourholiday?”
“Iamnotsure.”
“Whyisthat?”
“Baghdadisratheroutofthings.IthinkIshouldpreferapostinLondonifIcanhearofasuitableone.”
“Isee.Ithought,perhaps,youmightbegoingtobemarried.”
MissDebenhamdidnotreply.SheraisedhereyesandlookedPoirotfullintheface.Theglancesaidplainly,“Youareimpertinent.”
“Whatisyouropinionoftheladywhosharesyourcompartment—MissOhlsson?”
“Sheseemsapleasant,simplecreature.”
“Whatcolourisherdressinggown?”
MaryDebenhamstared.
“Akindofbrownishcolour—naturalwool.”
“Ah!Imaymentionwithoutindiscretion,Ihope,thatInoticedthecolourofyourdressinggownonthewayfromAleppotoStamboul.Apalemauve,Ibelieve.”
“Yes,thatisright.”
“Haveyouanyotherdressinggown,Mademoiselle?Ascarletdressinggown,forexample?”
“No,thatisnotmine.”
Poirotleanedforward.Hewaslikeacatpouncingonamouse.
“Whose,then?”
Thegirldrewbackalittle,startled.
“Idon’tknow.Whatdoyoumean?”
“Youdonotsay,‘No,Ihavenosuchthing.’Yousay,‘Thatisnotmine’—meaningthatsuchathingdoesbelongtosomeoneelse.”
Shenodded.
“Somebodyelseonthistrain?”
“Yes.”
“Whoseisit?”
“Itoldyoujustnow.Idon’tknow.Iwokeupthismorningaboutfiveo’clockwiththefeelingthatthetrainhadbeenstandingstillforalongtime.Iopenedthedoorandlookedoutintothecorridor,thinkingwemightbeatastation.Isawsomeoneinascarletkimonosomewaydownthecorridor.”
“Andyoudon’tknowwhoitwas?Wasshefairordarkorgrey-haired?”
“Ican’tsay.ShehadonashinglecapandIonlysawthebackofherhead.”
“Andinbuild?”
“Tallishandslim,Ishouldjudge,butit’sdifficulttosay.Thekimonowasembroideredwithdragons.”
“Yes,yesthatisright,dragons.”
Hewassilentaminute.Hemurmuredtohimself:
“Icannotunderstand.Icannotunderstand.Noneofthismakessense.”
Then,lookingup,hesaid:
“Ineednotkeepyoufurther,Mademoiselle.”
“Oh!”sheseemedrathertakenaback,butrosepromptly.Inthedoorway,however,shehesitatedaminuteandthencameback.
“TheSwedishlady—MissOhlsson,isit?—seemsratherworried.Shesaysyoutoldhershewasthelastpersontoseethismanalive.Shethinks,Ibelieve,thatyoususpectheronthataccount.Can’tItellherthatshehasmadeamistake?Really,youknow,sheisthekindofcreaturewhowouldn’thurtafly.”
Shesmiledalittleasshespoke.
“WhattimewasitthatshewenttofetchtheaspirinfromMrs.Hubbard?”
“Justafterhalf-pastten.”
“Shewasaway—howlong?”
“Aboutfiveminutes.”
“Didsheleavethecompartmentagainduringthenight?”
“No.”
Poirotturnedtothedoctor.
“CouldRatchetthavebeenkilledasearlyasthat?”
Thedoctorshookhishead.
“ThenIthinkyoucanreassureyourfriend,Mademoiselle.”
“Thankyou.”Shesmiledsuddenlyathim,asmilethatinvitedsympathy.“She’slikeasheep,youknow.Shegetsanxiousandbleats.”
Sheturnedandwentout.
Twelve
THEEVIDENCEOFTHEGERMANLADY’SMAID
M.Boucwaslookingathisfriendcuriously.
“Idonotquiteunderstandyou,monvieux.Youweretryingtodo—what?”
“Iwassearchingforaflaw,myfriend.”
“Aflaw?”
“Yes—inthearmourofayounglady’sself-possession.Iwishedtoshakehersangfroid.DidIsucceed?Idonotknow.ButIknowthis—shedidnotexpectmetotacklethematterasIdid.”
“Yoususpecther,”saidM.Boucslowly.“Butwhy?Sheseemsaverycharmingyounglady—thelastpersonintheworldtobemixedupinacrimeofthiskind.”
“Iagree,”saidConstantine.“Sheiscold.Shehasnotemotions.Shewouldnotstabaman;shewouldsuehiminthelawcourts.”
Poirotsighed“Youmust,bothofyou,getridofyourobsessionthatthisisanunpremeditatedandsuddencrime.AsforthereasonwhyIsuspectMissDebenham,therearetwo.OneisbecauseofsomethingthatIoverheard,andthatyoudonotasyetknow.”
HeretailedtothemthecuriousinterchangeofphraseshehadoverheardonthejourneyfromAleppo.
“Thatiscurious,certainly,”saidM.Boucwhenhehadfinished.“Itneedsexplaining.Ifitmeanswhatyoususpectitmeans,thentheyarebothoftheminittogether—sheandthestiffEnglishman.”
Poirotnodded.
“Andthatisjustwhatisnotborneoutbythefacts,”hesaid.“Seeyou,iftheywerebothinthistogether,whatshouldweexpecttofind—thateachofthemwouldprovideanalibifortheother.Isnotthatso?Butno—thatdoesnothappen.MissDebenham’salibiisprovidedbyaSwedishwomanwhomshehasneverseenbefore,andColonelArbuthnot’salibiisvouchedforbyMacQueen,thedeadman’ssecretary.No,thatsolutionofthepuzzleistooeasy.”
“Yousaidtherewasanotherreasonforyoursuspicionsofher,”M.Boucremindedhim.
Poirotsmiled.
“Ah!butthatisonlypsychological.Iaskmyself,isitpossibleforMissDebenhamtohaveplannedthiscrime?Behindthisbusiness,Iamconvinced,thereisacool,intelligent,resourcefulbrain.MissDebenhamanswerstothatdescription.”
M.Boucshookhishead.
“Ithinkyouarewrong,myfriend.IdonotseethatyoungEnglishgirlasacriminal.”
“Ah,well,”saidPoirot,pickingupthelastpassport,“tothefinalnameonourlist.HildegardeSchmidt,lady’smaid.”
Summonedbytheattendant,HildegardeSchmidtcameintotherestaurantcarandstoodwaitingrespectfully.
Poirotmotionedhertositdown.
Shedidso,foldingherhandsandwaitingplacidlytillhequestionedher.Sheseemedaplacidcreaturealtogether—eminentlyrespectable—perhapsnotoverintelligent.
Poirot’smethodswithHildegardeSchmidtwereacompletecontrasttohishandlingofMaryDebenham.
Hewasathiskindestandmostgenial,settingthewomanatherease.Then,havinggothertowritedownhernameandaddress,heslidgentlyintohisquestions.
TheinterviewtookplaceinGerman.
“Wewanttoknowasmuchaspossibleaboutwhathappenedlastnight,”hesaid.“Weknowthatyoucannotgiveusmuchinformationbearingonthecrimeitself,butyoumayhaveseenorheardsomethingthat,whileconveyingnothingtoyou,maybevaluabletous.Youunderstand?”
Shedidnotseemto.Herbroad,kindlyfaceremainedsetinitsexpressionofplacidstupidityassheanswered:
“Idonotknowanything,Monsieur.”
“Well,forinstance,youknowthatyourmistresssentforyoulastnight?”
“That,yes.”
“Doyourememberthetime?”
“Idonot,Monsieur.Iwasasleep,yousee,whentheattendantcameandtoldme.”
“Yes,yes.Wasitusualforyoutobesentforinthisway?”
“Itwasnotunusual,Monsieur.Thegraciousladyoftenrequiredattentionatnight.Shedidnotsleepwell.”
“Ehbien,then,youreceivedthesummonsandyougotup.Didyouputonadressinggown?”
“No,Monsieur,Iputonafewclothes.IwouldnotliketogointoherExcellencyinmydressinggown.”
“Andyetitisaverynicedressinggown—scarlet,isitnot?”
Shestaredathim.
“Itisadark-blueflanneldressinggown,Monsieur.”
“Ah!continue.Alittlepleasantryonmypart,thatisall.SoyouwentalongtoMadamelaPrincesse.Andwhatdidyoudowhenyougotthere?”
“Igavehermassage,Monsieur,andthenIreadaloud.Idonotreadaloudverywell,butherExcellencysaysthatisallthebetter.Soitsendsherbettertosleep.Whenshebecamesleepy,Monsieur,shetoldmetogo,soIclosedthebookandIreturnedtomyowncompartment.”
“Doyouknowwhattimethatwas?”
“No,Monsieur.”
“Well,howlonghadyoubeenwithMadamelaPrincesse?”
“Abouthalfanhour,Monsieur.”
“Good,continue.”
“First,IfetchedherExcellencyanextrarugfrommycompartment.Itwasverycoldinspiteoftheheating.Iarrangedtherugoverherandshewishedmegoodnight.Ipouredheroutsomemineralwater.ThenIturnedoutthelightandlefther.”
“Andthen?”
“Thereisnothingmore,Monsieur.Ireturnedtomycarriageandwenttosleep.”
“Andyoumetnooneinthecorridor?”
“No,Monsieur.”
“Youdidnot,forinstance,seealadyinascarletkimonowithdragonsonit?”
Hermildeyesbulgedathim.
“No,indeed,Monsieur.Therewasnobodyaboutexcepttheattendant.Everyonewasasleep.”
“Butyoudidseetheconductor?”
“Yes,Monsieur.”
“Whatwashedoing?”
“Hecameoutofoneofthecompartments,Monsieur.”
“What?”M.Boucleanedforward.“Whichone?”
HildegardeSchmidtlookedfrightenedagainandPoirotcastareproachfulglanceathisfriend.
“Naturally,”hesaid.“Theconductoroftenhastoanswerbellsatnight.Doyourememberwhichcompartmentitwas?”
“Itwasaboutthemiddleofthecoach,Monsieur.TwoorthreedoorsfromMadamelaPrincesse.”
“Ah!tellus,ifyouplease,exactlywherethiswasandwhathappened.”
“Henearlyranintome,Monsieur.ItwaswhenIwasreturningfrommycompartmenttothatofthePrincesswiththerug.”
“Andhecameoutofacompartmentandalmostcollidedwithyou?Inwhichdirectionwashegoing?”
“Towardsme,Monsieur.Heapologizedandpassedondownthecorridortowardsthediningcar.Abellbeganringing,butIdonotthinkheansweredit.”
Shepausedandthensaid:
“Idonotunderstand.Howisit—?”
Poirotspokereassuringly.
“Itisjustaquestionoftimes,”hesaid.“Allamatterofroutine.Thispoorconductor,heseemstohavehadabusynight—firstwakingyouandthenansweringbells.”
“Itwasnotthesameconductorwhowokeme,Monsieur.Itwasanotherone.”
“Ah,anotherone!Hadyouseenhimbefore?”
“No.Monsieur.”
“Ah!Doyouthinkyouwouldrecognizehimifyousawhim?”
“Ithinkso,Monsieur.”
PoirotmurmuredsomethinginM.Bouc’sear.Thelattergotupandwenttothedoortogiveanorder.
Poirotwascontinuinghisquestionsinaneasyfriendlymanner.
“HaveyoueverbeentoAmerica,FrauSchmidt?”
“Never,Monsieur.Itmustbeafinecountry.”
“Youhaveheard,perhaps,ofwhothismanwhowaskilledreallywas—thathewasresponsibleforthedeathofalittlechild.”
“Yes,Ihaveheard,Monsieur.Itwasabominable—wicked.ThegoodGodshouldnotallowsuchthings.WearenotsowickedasthatinGermany.”
Tearshadcomeintothewoman’seyes.Herstrongmotherlysoulwasmoved.
“Itwasanabominablecrime,”saidPoirotgravely.
Hedrewascrapofcambricfromhispocketandhandedittoher.
“Isthisyourhandkerchief,FrauSchmidt?”
Therewasamoment’ssilenceasthewomanexaminedit.Shelookedupafteraminute.Thecolourhadmountedalittleinherface.
“Ah!no,indeed.Itisnotmine,Monsieur.”
“IthastheinitialH,yousee.ThatiswhyIthoughtitwasyours.”
“Ah!Monsieur,itisalady’shandkerchief,that.Averyexpensivehandkerchief.Embroideredbyhand.ItcomesfromParis,Ishouldsay.”
“Itisnotyoursandyoudonotknowwhoseitis?”
“I?Oh,no,Monsieur.”
Ofthethreelistening,onlyPoirotcaughtthenuanceofhesitationinthereply.
M.Boucwhisperedinhisear.Poirotnoddedandsaidtothewoman:
“Thethreesleepingcarattendantsarecomingin.WillyoubesokindastotellmewhichistheoneyoumetlastnightasyouweregoingwiththerugtothePrincess?”
Thethreemenentered.PierreMichel,thebigblondconductoroftheAthens-Pariscoach,andthestoutburlyconductoroftheBucharestone.
HildegardeSchmidtlookedatthemandimmediatelyshookherhead.
“No,Monsieur,”shesaid.“NoneoftheseisthemanIsawlastnight.”
“Butthesearetheonlyconductorsonthetrain.Youmustbemistaken.”
“Iamquitesure,Monsieur.Thesearealltall,bigmen.TheoneIsawwassmallanddark.Hehadalittlemoustache.Hisvoicewhenhesaid‘Pardon’wasweaklikeawoman’s.Indeed,Irememberhimverywell,Monsieur.”
Thirteen
SUMMARYOFTHEPASSENGERS’EVIDENCE
“Asmalldarkmanwithawomanishvoice,”saidM.Bouc.
ThethreeconductorsandHildegardeSchmidthadbeendismissed.
“ButIunderstandnothing—butnothingofallthis!TheenemythatthisRatchettspokeof,hewasthenonthetrainafterall?Butwhereishenow?Howcanhehavevanishedintothinair?Myhead,itwhirls.Saysomething,then,myfriend,Iimploreyou.Showmehowtheimpossiblecanbepossible!”
“Itisagoodphrasethat,”saidPoirot.“Theimpossiblecannothavehappened,thereforetheimpossiblemustbepossibleinspiteofappearances.”
“Explaintomethen,quickly,whatactuallyhappenedonthetrainlastnight.”
“Iamnotamagician,moncher.Iam,likeyou,averypuzzledman.Thisaffairadvancesinaverystrangemanner.”
“Itdoesnotadvanceatall.Itstayswhereitwas.”
Poirotshookhishead.
“No,thatisnottrue.Wearemoreadvanced.Weknowcertainthings.Wehaveheardtheevidenceofthepassengers.”
“Andwhathasthattoldus?Nothingatall.”
“Iwouldnotsaythat,myfriend.”
“Iexaggerate,perhaps.TheAmerican,Hardman,andtheGermanmaid—yes,theyhaveaddedsomethingtoourknowledge.Thatistosay,theyhavemadethewholebusinessmoreunintelligiblethanitwas.”
“No,no,no,”saidPoirotsoothingly.M.Boucturneduponhim.
“Speak,then,letushearthewisdomofHerculePoirot.”
“DidInottellyouthatIwas,likeyou,averypuzzledman?Butatleastwecanfaceourproblem.Wecanarrangesuchfactsaswehavewithorderandmethod.”
“Praycontinue,Monsieur,”saidDr.Constantine.
Poirotclearedhisthroatandstraightenedapieceofblotting-paper.
“Letusreviewthecaseasitstandsatthismoment.First,therearecertainindisputablefacts.ThismanRatchett,orCassetti,wasstabbedintwelveplacesanddiedlastnight.Thatisfactone.”
“Igrantittoyou—Igrantit,monvieux,”saidM.Boucwithagestureofirony
HerculePoirotwasnotatallputout.Hecontinuedcalmly.
“IwillpassoverforthemomentcertainratherpeculiarappearanceswhichDr.ConstantineandIhavealreadydiscussedtogether.Iwillcometothempresently.Thenextfactofimportance,tomymind,isthetimeofthecrime.”
“That,again,isoneofthefewthingswedoknow,”saidM.Bouc.“Thecrimewascommittedataquarterpastonethismorning.Everythinggoestoshowthatwasso.”
“Noteverything.Youexaggerate.Thereis,certainly,afairamountofevidencetosupportthatview.”
“Iamgladyouadmitthatatleast.”
Poirotwentoncalmly,unperturbedbytheinterruption.
“Wehavebeforeusthreepossibilities:
“One:Thatthecrimewascommitted,asyousay,ataquarterpastone.ThisissupportedbytheevidenceoftheGermanwoman,HildegardeSchmidt.ItagreeswiththeevidenceofDr.Constantine.
“Possibilitytwo:Thecrimewascommittedlaterandtheevidenceofthewatchwasdeliberatelyfaked.
“Possibilitythree:Thecrimewascommittedearlierandtheevidencefakedforthesamereasonasabove.
“Now,ifweacceptpossibilityoneasthemostlikelytohaveoccurredandtheonesupportedbymostevidence,wemustalsoacceptcertainfactsarisingfromit.Tobeginwith,ifthecrimewascommittedataquarterpastone,themurderercannothaveleftthetrain,andthequestionarises:Whereishe?Andwhoishe?
“Tobeginwith,letusexaminetheevidencecarefully.Wefirsthearoftheexistenceofthisman—thesmalldarkmanwithawomanishvoice—fromthemanHardman.HesaysthatRatchetttoldhimofthispersonandemployedhimtowatchoutfortheman.Thereisnoevidencetosupportthis—wehaveonlyHardman’swordforit.Letusnextexaminethequestion:IsHardmanthepersonhepretendstobe—anoperativeofaNewYorkDetectiveAgency?
“Whattomymindissointerestinginthiscaseisthatwehavenoneofthefacilitiesaffordedtothepolice.Wecannotinvestigatethebonafidesofanyofthesepeople.Wehavetorelysolelyondeduction.That,tome,makesthematterverymuchmoreinteresting.Thereisnoroutinework.Itisamatteroftheintellect.Iaskmyself,‘CanweacceptHardman’saccountofhimself?’ImakemydecisionandIanswer,‘Yes.’IamoftheopinionthatwecanacceptHardman’saccountofhimself.”
“Yourelyontheintuition—whattheAmericanscallthehunch?”saidDr.Constantine.
“Notatall.Iregardtheprobabilities.Hardmanistravellingwithafalsepassport—thatwillatoncemakehimanobjectofsuspicion.ThefirstthingthatthepolicewilldowhentheydoarriveuponthesceneistodetainHardmanandcableastowhetherhisaccountofhimselfistrue.Inthecaseofmanyofthepassengers,toestablishtheirbonafideswillbedifficult;inmostcasesitwillprobablynotbeattempted,especiallysincethereseemsnothinginthewayofsuspicionattachingtothem.ButinHardman’scaseitissimple.Eitherheisthepersonherepresentshimselftobeorheisnot.ThereforeIsaythatallwillprovetobeinorder.”
“Youacquithimofsuspicion?”
“Notatall.Youmisunderstandme.ForallIknow,anyAmericandetectivemighthavehisownprivatereasonsforwishingtomurderRatchett.No,whatIamsayingisthatIthinkwecanacceptHardman’sownaccountofhimself.Thisstory,then,thathetellsofRatchett’sseekinghimoutandemployinghim,isnotunlikelyandismostprobably,thoughnotofcoursecertainly,true.Ifwearegoingtoacceptitastrue,wemustseeifthereisanyconfirmationofit.Wefinditinratheranunlikelyplace—intheevidenceofHildegardeSchmidt.Herdescriptionofthemantwostories?Thereis.ThereisthebuttonfoundinhercompartmentbyMrs.Hubbard.Andthereisalsoanothercorroboratingstatementwhichyoumaynothavenoticed.”
“Whatisthat?”
“ThefactthatbothColonelArbuthnotandHectorMacQueenmentionthattheconductorpassedtheircarriage.Theyattachednoimportancetothefact,butMessieurs,PierreMichelhasdeclaredthathedidnotleavehisseatexceptoncertainspecifiedoccasions,noneofwhichwouldtakehimdowntothefarendofthecoachpastthecompartmentinwhichArbuthnotandMacQueenweresitting.
“Thereforethisstory,thestoryofasmalldarkmanwithawomanishvoicedressedinWagonLituniform,restsonthetestimony—directorindirect—offourwitnesses.”
“Onesmallpoint,”saidDr.Constantine.“IfHildegardeSchmidt’sstoryistrue,howisitthattherealconductordidnotmentionhavingseenherwhenhecametoanswerMrs.Hubbard’sbell?”
“Thatisexplained,Ithink.WhenhearrivedtoanswerMrs.Hubbard,themaidwasinwithhermistress.Whenshefinallyreturnedtoherowncompartment,theconductorwasinwithMrs.Hubbard.”
M.Bouchadbeenwaitingwithdifficultyuntiltheyhadfinished.
“Yes,yes,myfriend,”hesaidimpatientlytoPoirot.“ButwhilstIadmireyourcaution,yourmethodofadvancingastepatatime,Isubmitthatyouhavenotyettouchedthepointatissue.Weareallagreedthatthispersonexists.Thepointis—wheredidhego?”
Poirotshookhisheadreprovingly.
“Youareinerror.Youareinclinedtoputthecartbeforethehorse.BeforeIaskmyself,‘Wheredidthismanvanishto?’Iaskmyself,‘Didsuchamanreallyexist?’Because,yousee,ifthemanwereaninvention—afabrication—howmucheasiertomakehimdisappear!SoItrytoestablishfirstthattherereallyissuchafleshandbloodperson.”
“Andhavingarrivedatthefactthatthereis—ehbien—whereishenow?”
“Thereareonlytwoanswerstothat,moncher.Eitherheisstillhiddenonthetraininaplaceofsuchextraordinaryingenuitythatwecannoteventhinkofit,orelseheis,asonemightsay,twopersons.Thatis,heisbothhimself—themanfearedbyM.Ratchett—andapassengeronthetrainsowelldisguisedthatM.Ratchettdidnotrecognizehim.”
“Itisanidea,that,”saidM.Bouc,hisfacelightingup.Thenitcloudedoveragain.“Butthereisoneobjection—”
Poirottookthewordsoutofhismouth.
“Theheightoftheman.Itisthatyouwouldsay?WiththeexceptionofM.Ratchett’svalet,allthepassengersarebigmen—theItalian,ColonelArbuthnot,HectorMacQueen,CountAndrenyi.Well,thatleavesusthevalet—notaverylikelysupposition.Butthereisanotherpossibility.Rememberthe‘womanish’voice.Thatgivesusachoiceofalternatives.Themanmaybedisguisedasawoman,or,alternatively,hemayactuallybeawoman.Atallwomandressedinman’sclotheswouldlooksmall.”
“ButsurelyRatchettwouldhaveknown—”
“Perhapshedidknow.Perhaps,alreadythiswomanhadattemptedhislifewearingmen’sclothesthebettertoaccomplishherpurpose.Ratchettmayhaveguessedthatshewouldusethesametrickagain,sohetellsHardmantolookforaman.Buthementions,however,awomanishvoice.”
“Itisapossibility,”saidM.Bouc.“But—”
“Listen,myfriend,IthinkthatIshouldnowtellyouofcertaininconsistenciesnoticedbyDr.Constantine.”
Heretailedatlengththeconclusionsthatheandthedoctorhadarrivedattogetherfromthenatureofthedeadman’swounds.M.Boucgroanedandheldhisheadagain.
“Iknow,”saidPoirotsympathetically.“Iknowexactlyhowyoufeel.Theheadspins,doesitnot?”
“Thewholethingisafantasy,”criedM.Bouc.
“Exactly.Itisabsurd—improbable—itcannotbe.SoImyselfhavesaid.Andyet,myfriend,thereitis!Onecannotescapefromthefacts.”
“Itismadness!”
“Isitnot?Itissomad,myfriend,thatsometimesIamhauntedbythesensationthatreallyitmustbeverysimple…
“Butthatisonlyoneofmy‘littleideas.’…”
“Twomurderers,”groanedM.Bouc.“AndontheOrientExpress.”
Thethoughtalmostmadehimweep.
“Andnowletusmakethefantasymorefantastic,”saidPoirotcheerfully.“Lastnightonthetraintherearetwomysteriousstrangers.ThereistheWagonLitattendantansweringtothedescriptiongivenusbyM.Hardman,andseenbyHildegardeSchmidt,ColonelArbuthnotandM.MacQueen.Thereisalsoawomaninaredkimono—atall,slimwoman—seenbyPierreMichel,byMissDebenham,byM.MacQueenandbymyself—andsmelt,Imaysay,byColonelArbuthnot!Whowasshe?Nooneonthetrainadmitstohavingascarletkimono.She,too,hasvanished.WassheoneandthesamewiththespuriousWagonLitattendant?Orwasshesomequitedistinctpersonality?Wherearethey,thesetwo?And,incidentally,whereistheWagonLituniformandthescarletkimono?”
“Ah!thatissomethingdefinite.”M.Boucsprangupeagerly.“Wemustsearchallthepassengers’luggage.Yes,thatwillbesomething.”
Poirotrosealso.
“Iwillmakeaprophecy,”hesaid.
“Youknowwheretheyare?”
“Ihavealittleidea.”
“Where,then?”
“YouwillfindthescarletkimonointhebaggageofoneofthemenandyouwillfindtheuniformoftheWagonLitconductorinthebaggageofHildegardeSchmidt.”
“HildegardeSchmidt?Youthink—”
“Notwhatyouarethinking.Iwillputitlikethis.IfHildegardeSchmidtisguilty,theuniformmightbefoundinherbaggage—butifsheisinnocentitcertainlywillbe.”
“Buthow—”beganM.Boucandstopped
“Whatisthisnoisethatapproaches?”hecried.“Itresemblesalocomotiveinmotion.”
Thenoisedrewnearer.Itconsistedofshrillcriesandprotestsinawoman’svoice.Thedoorattheendofthediningcarflewopen.Mrs.Hubbardburstin
“It’stoohorrible,”shecried.“It’sjusttoohorrible.Inmyspongebag.Myspongebag.Agreatknife—alloverblood.”
And,suddenlytopplingforward,shefaintedheavilyonM.Bouc’sshoulder.
Fourteen
THEEVIDENCEOFTHEWEAPON
Withmorevigourthanchivalry,M.Boucdepositedthefaintingladywithherheadonthetable.Dr.Constantineyelledforoneoftherestaurantattendants,whocameatarun.
“Keepherheadso,”saidthedoctor.“Ifsherevivesgiveheralittlecognac.Youunderstand?”
Thenhehurriedoffaftertheothertwo.Hisinterestlaywhollyinthecrime—swooningmiddle-agedladiesdidnotinteresthimatall.
ItispossiblethatMrs.Hubbardrevivedratherquickerwiththesemethodsthanshemightotherwisehavedone.Afewminuteslatershewassittingup,sippingcognacfromaglassprofferedbytheattendant,andtalkingoncemore.
“Ijustcan’tsayhowterribleitwas.Idon’tsupposeanybodyonthistraincanunderstandmyfeelings.I’vealwaysbeenvurry,vurrysensitiveeversinceachild.Themeresightofblood—ugh—whyevennowIcomeoverqueerwhenIthinkaboutit.”
Theattendantprofferedtheglassagain
“Encoreunpeu,Madame.”
“D’youthinkI’dbetter?I’malifelongteetotaller.Ijustnevertouchspiritsorwineatanytime.Allmyfamilyareabstainers.Stillperhapsasthisisonlymedical—”
Shesippedoncemore.
InthemeantimePoirotandM.Bouc,closelyfollowedbyDr.Constantine,hadhurriedoutoftherestaurantcarandalongthecorridoroftheStamboulcoachtowardsMrs.Hubbard’scompartment.
Everytravelleronthetrainseemedtobecongregatedoutsidethedoor.Theconductor,aharrassedlookonhisface,waskeepingthemback.
“Maisiln’yarienàvoir,”hesaid,andrepeatedthesentimentinseveralotherlanguages.
“Letmepass,ifyouplease,”saidM.Bouc.
Squeezinghisrotunditypasttheobstructingpassengers,heenteredthecompartment,Poirotclosebehindhim.
“IamgladyouhavecomeMonsieur,”saidtheconductorwithasighofrelief.“Everyonehasbeentryingtoenter.TheAmericanlady—suchscreamsasshegave—mafoi!Ithoughtshetoohadbeenmurdered!Icameatarunandthereshewasscreaminglikeamadwoman,andshecriedoutthatshemustfetchyouandshedeparted,screechingatthetopofhervoiceandtellingeverybodywhosecarriageshepassedwhathadoccurred.”
Headded,withagestureofthehand:
“Itisinthere,Monsieur.Ihavenottouchedit.”
Hangingonthehandleofthedoorthatgaveaccesstothenextcompartmentwasalarge-sizecheckedrubberspongebag.Belowitonthefloor,justwhereithadfallenfromMrs.Hubbard’shand,wasastraightbladeddagger—acheapaffair,shamOriental,withanembossedhiltandataperingblade.Thebladewasstainedwithpatchesofwhatlookedlikerust.
Poirotpickeditupdelicately.
“Yes,”hemurmured.“Thereisnomistake.Hereisourmissingweaponallright—eh,docteur?”
Thedoctorexaminedit.
“Youneednotbesocareful,”saidPoirot.“TherewillbenofingerprintsonitsavethoseofMrs.Hubbard.”
Constantine’sexaminationdidnottakelong.
“Itistheweaponallright,”hesaid.“Itwouldaccountforanyofthewounds.”
“Iimploreyou,myfriend,donotsaythat.”
Thedoctorlookedastonished.
“Alreadyweareheavilyoverburdenedbycoincidence.TwopeopledecidetostabM.Ratchettlastnight.Itistoomuchofagoodthingthateachofthemshouldselectanidenticalweapon.”
“Astothat,thecoincidenceisnot,perhaps,sogreatasitseems,”saidthedoctor.“ThousandsoftheseshamEasterndaggersaremadeandshippedtothebazaarsofConstantinople.”
“Youconsolemealittle,butonlyalittle,”saidPoirot.Helookedthoughtfullyatthedoorinfrontofhim,then,liftingoffthespongebag,hetriedthehandle.Thedoordidnotbudge.Aboutafootabovethehandlewasthedoorbolt,Poirotdrewitbackandtriedagain,butstillthedoorremainedfast.
“Welockeditfromtheotherside,youremember,”saidthedoctor.
“Thatistrue,”saidPoirotabsently.Heseemedtobethinkingaboutsomethingelse.Hisbrowwasfurrowedasthoughinperplexity.
“Itagrees,doesitnot?”saidM.Bouc.“Themanpassesthroughthiscarriage.Asheshutsthecommunicatingdoorbehindhimhefeelsthespongebag.Athoughtcomestohimandhequicklyslipsthebloodstainedknifeinside.Then,allunwittingthathehasawakenedMrs.Hubbard,heslipsoutthroughtheotherdoorintothecorridor.”
“Asyousay,”murmuredPoirot.“Thatishowitmusthavehappened.”
Butthepuzzledlookdidnotleavehisface.
“Butwhatisit?”demandedM.Bouc.“Thereissomething,istherenot,thatdoesnotsatisfyyou?”
Poirotdartedaquicklookathim.
“Thesamepointdoesnotstrikeyou?No,evidentlynot.Well,itisasmallmatter.”
Theconductorlookedintothecarriage.
“TheAmericanladyiscomingback.”
Dr.Constantinelookedratherguilty.Hehad,hefelt,treatedMrs.Hubbardrathercavalierly.Butshehadnoreproachesforhim.Herenergieswereconcentratedonanothermatter.
“I’mjustgoingtosayonethingrightout,”shesaidbreathlesslyasshearrivedinthedoorway.“I’mnotgoingonanylongerinthiscompartment!Why,Iwouldn’tsleepinittonightifyoupaidmeamilliondollars.”
“But,Madame—”
“Iknowwhatyouaregoingtosay,andI’mtellingyourightnowthatIwon’tdoanysuchthing!Why,I’drathersitupallnightinthecorridor.”
Shebegantocry.
“Oh!ifmydaughtercouldonlyknow—ifshecouldseemenow,why—”
Poirotinterruptedfirmly.
“Youmisunderstand,Madame.Yourdemandismostreasonable.Yourbaggageshallbechangedatoncetoanothercompartment.”
Mrs.Hubbardloweredherhandkerchief.
“Isthatso?Oh,Ifeelbetterrightaway.Butsurelyit’sallfullup,unlessoneofthegentlemen—”
M.Boucspoke.
“Yourbaggage,Madame,shallbemovedoutofthiscoachaltogether.YoushallhaveacompartmentinthenextcoachwhichwasputonatBelgrade.”
“Why,that’ssplendid.I’mnotanoutofthewaynervouswoman,buttosleepinthatcompartmentnextdoortoadeadman—”Sheshivered.“Itwoulddrivemeplumbcrazy.”
“Michel,”calledM.Bouc.“MovethisbaggageintoavacantcompartmentintheAthens-Pariscoach.”
“Yes,Monsieur—thesameoneasthis—theNo.3?”
“No,”saidPoirotbeforehisfriendcouldreply.“IthinkitwouldbebetterforMadametohaveadifferentnumberaltogether.TheNo.12,forinstance.”
“Bien,Monsieur.”
Theconductorseizedtheluggage.Mrs.HubbardturnedgratefullytoPoirot.
“That’svurrykindanddelicateofyou.Iappreciateit,Iassureyou.”
“Donotmentionit,Madame.Wewillcomewithyouandseeyoucomfortablyinstalled.”
Mrs.Hubbardwasescortedbythethreementohernewhome.Shelookedroundherhappily.
“Thisisfine.”
“Itsuitsyou,Madame?Itis,yousee,exactlylikethecompartmentyouhaveleft.”
“That’sso—onlyitfacestheotherway.Butthatdoesn’tmatter,forthesetrainsgofirstonewayandthentheother.Isaidtomydaughter,‘Iwantacarriagefacingtheengine,’andshesaid,‘Why,Momma,that’llbenogoodtoyou,forifyougotosleeponeway,whenyouwakeupthetrain’sgoingtheother.’Anditwasquitetruewhatshesaid.Why,lasteveningwewentintoBelgradeonewayandouttheother.”
“Atanyrate,Madame,youarequitehappyandcontentednow?”
“Well,no,Iwouldn’tsaythat.Herewearestuckinasnowdriftandnobodydoinganythingaboutit,andmyboatsailingthedayaftertomorrow.”
“Madame,”saidM.Bouc,“weareallinthesamecase—everyoneofus.”
“Well,that’strue,”admittedMrs.Hubbard.“Butnobodyelsehashadamurdererwalkingrightthroughtheircompartmentinthemiddleofthenight.”
“Whatstillpuzzlesme,Madame,”saidPoirot,“ishowthemangotintoyourcompartmentifthecommunicatingdoorwasboltedasyousay.Youaresurethatitwasbolted?”
“Why,theSwedishladytrieditbeforemyeyes.”
“Letusjustreconstructthatlittlescene.Youwerelyinginyourbunk—so—andyoucouldnotseeforyourself,yousay?”
“No,becauseofthespongebag.Oh,my,Ishallhavetogetanewspongebag.Itmakesmefeelsickinmystomachtolookatthisone.”
Poirotpickedupthespongebagandhungitonthehandleofthecommunicatingdoorintothenextcarriage.
“Précisément—Isee,”hesaid.“Theboltisjustunderneaththehandle—thespongebagmasksit.Youcouldnotseefromwhereyouwerelyingwhethertheboltwereturnedornot.”
“Why,that’sjustwhatI’vebeentellingyou!”
“AndtheSwedishlady,MissOhlsson,stoodso,betweenyouandthedoor.Shetrieditandtoldyouitwasbolted.”
“That’sso.”
“Allthesame,Madame,shemayhavemadeanerror.YouseewhatImean.”Poirotseemedanxioustoexplain.“Theboltisjustaprojectionofmetal—so.Turnedtotherightthedoorislocked,leftstraight,itisnot.Possiblyshemerelytriedthedoor,andasitwaslockedontheothersideshemayhaveassumedthatitwaslockedonyourside.”
“WellIguessthatwouldberatherstupidofher.”
“Madame,themostkind,themostamiablearenotalwaysthecleverest.”
“That’sso,ofcourse.”
“Bytheway,Madame,didyoutravelouttoSmyrnathisway?”
“No.IsailedrighttoStamboul,andafriendofmydaughter’s—Mr.Johnson(aperfectlylovelyman;I’dliketohaveyouknowhim)—metmeandshowedmeallroundStamboul,whichIfoundaverydisappointingcity—alltumblingdown.Andasforthosemosquesandputtingonthosegreatshufflingthingsoveryourshoes—wherewasI?”
“YouweresayingthatMr.Johnsonmetyou.”
“That’sso,andhesawmeonboardaFrenchMessagerieboatforSmyrna,andmydaughter’shusbandwaswaitingrightonthequay.Whathe’llsaywhenhehearsaboutallthis!Mydaughtersaidthiswouldbejustthesafest,easiestwayimaginable.‘Youjustsitinyourcarriage,’shesaid,‘andyougetrighttoParrusandtheretheAmericanExpresswillmeetyou.’And,ohdear,whatamItodoaboutcancellingmysteamshippassage?Ioughttoletthemknow.Ican’tpossiblymakeitnow.Thisisjusttooterrible—”
Mrs.Hubbardshowedsignsoftearsoncemore.
Poirot,whohadbeenfidgetingslightly,seizedhisopportunity.
“Youhavehadashock,Madame.Therestaurantattendantshallbeinstructedtobringyoualongsometeaandsomebiscuits.”
“Idon’tknowthatI’msosetontea,”saidMrs.Hubbardtearfully.“That’smoreanEnglishhabit.”
“Coffee,then,Madame.Youneedsomestimulant.”
“Thatcognac’smademyheadfeelmightyfunny.IthinkIwouldlikesomecoffee.”
“Excellent.Youmustreviveyourforces.”
“My,whatafunnyexpression.”
“Butfirst,Madame,alittlematterofroutine.YoupermitthatImakeasearchofyourbaggage?”
“Whateverfor?”
“Weareabouttocommenceasearchofallthepassengers’luggage.Idonotwanttoremindyouofanunpleasantexperience,butyourspongebag—remember.”
“Mercy!Perhapsyou’dbetter!Ijustcouldn’tbeartogetanymoresurprisesofthatkind.”
Theexaminationwasquicklyover.Mrs.Hubbardwastravellingwiththeminimumofluggage—ahatbox,acheapsuitcase,andawell-burdenedtravellingbag.Thecontentsofallthreeweresimpleandstraightforward,andtheexaminationwouldnothavetakenmorethanacoupleofminuteshadnotMrs.Hubbarddelayedmattersbyinsistingondueattentionbeingpaidtophotographsof“Mydaughter”andtworatheruglychildren—“Mydaughter’schildren.Aren’ttheycunning?”
Fifteen
THEEVIDENCEOFTHEPASSENGERS’LUGGAGE
Havingdeliveredhimselfofvariouspoliteinsincerities,andhavingtoldMrs.Hubbardthathewouldordercoffeetobebroughttoher,Poirotwasabletotakehisleaveaccompaniedbyhistwofriends.
“Well,wehavemadeastartanddrawnablank,”observedM.Bouc.“Whomshallwetacklenext?”
“Itwouldbesimplest,Ithink,justtoproceedalongthetraincarriagebycarriage.ThatmeansthatwestartwithNo.16—theamiableM.Hardman.”
Mr.Hardman,whowassmokingacigar,welcomedthemaffably.
“Comerightin,gentlemen—thatis,ifit’shumanlypossible.It’sjustamitecrampedinhereforaparty.”
M.Boucexplainedtheobjectoftheirvisit,andthebigdetectivenoddedcomprehendingly.
“That’sO.K.Totellthetruth,I’vebeenwonderingyoudidn’tgetdowntoitsooner.Herearemykeys,gentlemenandifyouliketosearchmypocketstoo,why,you’rewelcome.ShallIreachthegripsdownforyou?”
“Theconductorwilldothat.Michel!”
ThecontentsofMr.Hardman’stwo“grips”weresoonexaminedandpassed.Theycontainedperhapsanundueproportionofspirituousliquor.Mr.Hardmanwinked.
“It’snotoftentheysearchyourgripsatthefrontiers—notifyoufixtheconductor.IhandedoutawadofTurkishnotesrightaway,andthere’sbeennotroublesofar.”
“AndatParis?”
Mr.Hardmanwinkedagain.
“BythetimeIgettoParis,”hesaid,“what’sleftoverofthislittlelotwillgointoabottlelabelledhairwash.”
“YouarenotabelieverinProhibition,MonsieurHardman,”saidM.Boucwithasmile.
“Well,”saidHardman.“Ican’tsayProhibitionhaseverworriedmeany.”
“Ah!”saidM.Bouc.“Thespeakeasy.”Hepronouncedthewordwithcare,savouringit.
“YourAmericantermsaresoquaint,soexpressive,”hesaid.
“Me,IwouldmuchliketogotoAmerica,”saidPoirot.
“You’dlearnafewgo-aheadmethodsoverthere,”saidHardman.“Europewantswakingup.She’shalfasleep.”
“ItistruethatAmericaisthecountryofprogress,”agreedPoirot.“ThereismuchthatIadmireaboutAmericans.Only—Iamperhapsold-fashioned—butme,IfindtheAmericanwomanlesscharmingthanmyowncountrywomen.TheFrenchorBelgiangirl,coquettish,charming—Ithinkthereisnoonetotouchher.”
Hardmanturnedawaytopeeroutatthesnowforaminute.
“Perhapsyou’reright,M.Poirot,”hesaid.“ButIguesseverynationlikesitsowngirlsbest.”
Heblinkedasthoughthesnowhurthiseyes.
“Kindofdazzling,isn’tit?”heremarked.“Say,gentlemen,thisbusinessisgettingonmynerves.Murderandthesnowandall,andnothingdoing.Justhangingaboutandkillingtime.I’dliketogetbusyaftersomeoneorsomething.”
“ThetrueWesternspiritofhustle,”saidPoirotwithasmile.
Theconductorreplacedthebagsandtheymovedontothenextcompartment.ColonelArbuthnotwassittinginacornersmokingapipeandreadingamagazine.
Poirotexplainedtheirerrand.TheColonelmadenodemur.Hehadtwoheavyleathersuitcases.
“Therestofmykithasgonebylongsea,”heexplained.
LikemostArmymen,theColonelwasaneatpacker.Theexaminationofhisbaggagetookonlyafewminutes.Poirotnotedapacketofpipecleaners.
“Youalwaysusethesamekind?”heasked.
“Usually.IfIcanget’em.”
“Ah!”Poirotnodded.
Thesepipecleanerswereidenticalwiththeonehehadfoundonthefloorofthedeadman’scompartment.
Dr.Constantineremarkedasmuchwhentheywereoutinthecorridoragain.
“Toutdemême,”murmuredPoirot,“Icanhardlybelieveit.Itisnotdanssoncaractère,andwhenyouhavesaidthatyouhavesaideverything.”
Thedoorofthenextcompartmentwasclosed.ItwasthatoccupiedbyPrincessDragomiroff.TheyknockedonthedoorandthePrincess’sdeepvoicecalled,“Entrez.”
M.Boucwasspokesman.Hewasverydeferentialandpoliteasheexplainedtheirerrand.
ThePrincesslistenedtohiminsilence,hersmalltoad-likefacequiteimpassive.
“Ifitisnecessary,Messieurs,”shesaidquietlywhenhehadfinished,“thatisallthereistoit.Mymaidhasthekeys.Shewillattendtoitwithyou.”
“Doesyourmaidalwayscarryyourkeys,Madame?”askedPoirot.
“Certainly,Monsieur.”
“AndifduringthenightatoneofthefrontierstheCustomsofficialsshouldrequireapieceofluggagetobeopened?”
Theoldladyshruggedhershoulders.
“Itisveryunlikely.Butinsuchacasethisconductorwouldfetchher.”
“Youtrusther,then,implicitly,Madame?”
“Ihavetoldyousoalready,”saidthePrincessquietly.“IdonotemploypeoplewhomIdonottrust.”
“Yes,”saidPoirotthoughtfully.“Trustisindeedsomethinginthesedays.Itis,perhaps,bettertohaveahomelywomanwhomonecantrustthanamorechicmaid—forexample,somesmartParisienne.”
Hesawthedarkintelligenteyescomeslowlyroundandfastenthemselvesuponhisface.
“Whatexactlyareyouimplying,M.Poirot?”
“Nothing,Madame.I?Nothing.”
“Butyes.Youthink,doyounot,thatIshouldhaveasmartFrenchwomantoattendtomytoilet?”
“Itwouldbe,perhaps,moreusual,Madame.”
Sheshookherhead.
“Schmidtisdevotedtome.”Hervoicedweltlingeringlyonthewords.“Devotion—c’estimpayable.”
TheGermanwomanhadarrivedwiththekeys.ThePrincessspoketoherinherownlanguage,tellinghertoopenthevalisesandhelpthegentlemenintheirsearch.SheherselfremainedinthecorridorlookingoutatthesnowandPoirotremainedwithher,leavingM.Bouctothetaskofsearchingtheluggage.
Sheregardedhimwithagrimsmile.
“Well,Monsieur,doyounotwishtoseewhatmyvalisescontain?”
Heshookhishead.
“Madame,itisaformality,thatisall.”
“Areyousosure?”
“Inyourcase,yes.”
“AndyetIknewandlovedSoniaArmstrong.Whatdoyouthink,then?ThatIwouldnotsoilmyhandswithkillingsuchcanailleasthatmanCassetti?Well,perhapsyouareright.”
Shewassilentaminuteortwo,thenshesaid:
“Withsuchamanasthat,doyouknowwhatIshouldhavelikedtohavedone?Ishouldhavelikedtocalltomyservants:“Flogthismantodeathandflinghimoutontherubbishheap.”ThatisthewaythingsweredonewhenIwasyoung.Monsieur.”
Stillhedidnotspeak,justlistenedattentively.
Shelookedathimwithasuddenimpetuosity.
“Youdonotsayanything,M.Poirot.Whatisitthatyouarethinking,Iwonder?”
Helookedatherwithaverydirectglance.
“Ithink,Madame,thatyourstrengthisinyourwill—notinyourarm.”
Sheglanceddownatherthin,black-cladarmsendinginthoseclaw-likeyellowhandswiththeringsonthefingers.
“Itistrue,”shesaid.“Ihavenostrengthinthese—none.IdonotknowifIamsorryorglad.”
Thensheturnedabruptlybacktowardshercarriage,wherethemaidwasbusilypackingupthecases.
ThePrincesscutshortM.Bouc’sapologies.
“Thereisnotneedforyoutoapologize,Monsieur,”shesaid.“Amurderhasbeencommitted.Certainactionshavetobeperformed.Thatisallthereistoit.”
“Vousêtesbienamiable,Madame.”
Sheinclinedherheadslightlyastheydeparted.
Thedoorsofthenexttwocarriageswereshut.M.Boucpausedandscratchedhishead.
“Diable!”hesaid.“Thismaybeawkward.Thesearediplomaticpassports.Theirbaggageisexempt.”
“FromCustomsexamination,yes.Butamurderisdifferent.”
“Iknow.Allthesame—wedonotwanttohavecomplications—”
“Donotdistressyourself,myfriend.TheCountandCountesswillbereasonable.SeehowamiablePrincessDragomiroffwasaboutit.”
“Sheistrulygrandedame.Thesetwoarealsoofthesameposition,buttheCountimpressedmeasamanofsomewhattruculentdisposition.Hewasnotpleasedwhenyouinsistedonquestioninghiswife.Andthiswillannoyhimstillfurther.Suppose—eh—weomitthem.Afterall,theycanhavenothingtodowiththematter.WhyshouldIstirupneedlesstroubleformyself.”
“Idonotagreewithyou,”saidPoirot.“IfeelsurethatCountAndrenyiwillbereasonable.Atanyrate,letusmaketheattempt.”
And,beforeM.Bouccouldreply,herappedsharplyonthedoorofNo.13.
Avoicefromwithincried,“Entrez.”
TheCountwassittinginthecornernearthedoorreadinganewspaper.TheCountesswascurledupintheoppositecornernearthewindow.Therewasapillowbehindherhead,andsheseemedtohavebeenasleep.
“Pardon,MonsieurleComte,”beganPoirot.“Prayforgivethisintrusion.Itisthatwearemakingasearchofallthebaggageonthetrain.Inmostcasesamereformality.Butithastobedone.M.Boucsuggeststhat,asyouhaveadiplomaticpassport,youmightreasonablyclaimtobeexemptfromsuchasearch.”
TheCountconsideredforamoment.
“Thankyou,”hesaid.“ButIdonotthinkthatIcareforanexceptiontobemadeinmycase.Ishouldpreferthatourbaggageshouldbeexaminedlikethatoftheotherpassengers.”
Heturnedtohiswife.
“Youdonotobject,Ihope,Elena?”
“Notatall,”saidtheCountesswithouthesitation.
Arapidandsomewhatperfunctorysearchfollowed.Poirotseemedtobetryingtomaskanembarrassmentinmakingvarioussmallpointlessremarks,suchas:
“Hereisalabelallwetonyoursuitcase,Madame,”ashelifteddownabluemoroccocasewithinitialsonitandacoronet.
TheCountessdidnotreplytothisobservation.Sheseemed,indeed,ratherboredbythewholeproceeding,remainingcurledupinhercorner,staringdreamilyoutthroughthewindowwhilstthemensearchedherluggageinthecompartmentnextdoor.
Poirotfinishedhissearchbyopeningthelittlecupboardabovethewashbasinandtakingarapidglanceatitscontents—asponge,facecream,powderandasmallbottlelabelledtrional.
Then,withpoliteremarksoneitherside,thesearchpartywithdrew.
Mrs.Hubbard’scompartment,thatofthedeadman,andPoirot’sowncamenext
Theynowcametothesecond-classcarriages.Thefirstone,Nos.10,11,wasoccupiedbyMaryDebenham,whowasreadingabook,andGretaOhlsson,whowasfastasleepbutwokewithastartattheirentrance.
Poirotrepeatedhisformula.TheSwedishladyseemedagitated,MaryDebenhamcalmlyindifferent.
PoirotaddressedhimselftotheSwedishlady.
“Ifyoupermit,Mademoiselle,wewillexamineyourbaggagefirst,andthenperhapsyouwouldbesogoodastoseehowtheAmericanladyisgettingon.Wehavemovedherintooneofthecarriagesinthenextcoach,butsheisstillveryupsetastheresultofherdiscovery.Ihaveorderedcoffeetobesenttoher,butIthinksheisofthosetowhomsomeonetotalktoisanecessityofthefirstwater.”
Thegoodladywasinstantlysympathetic.Shewouldgoimmediately.Itmusthavebeenindeedaterribleshocktothenerves,andalreadythepoorladywasupsetbythejourneyandleavingherdaughter.Ah,yes,certainlyshewouldgoatonce—hercasewasnotlocked—andshewouldtakewithhersomesalammoniac.
Shebustledoff.Herpossessionsweresoonexamined.Theyweremeagreintheextreme.Shehadevidentlynotnoticedthemissingwiresfromthehatbox.
MissDebenhamhadputherbookdown.ShewaswatchingPoirot.Whenheaskedher,shehandedoverherkeys.Then,ashelifteddownacaseandopenedit,shesaid:
“Whydidyousendheraway,M.Poirot?”
“I,Mademoiselle?Why,toministertotheAmericanlady.”
“Anexcellentpretext—butapretextallthesame.”
“Idon’tunderstandyou,Mademoiselle.”
“Ithinkyouunderstandmeverywell.”
Shesmiled.
“Youwantedtogetmealone.Wasn’tthatit?”
“Youareputtingwordsintomymouth,Mademoiselle.”
“Andideasintoyourhead?No,Idon’tthinkso.Theideasarealreadythere.Thatisright,isn’tit?”
“Mademoiselle,wehaveaproverb—”
“Ques’excuses’accuse;isthatwhatyouweregoingtosay?Youmustgivemethecreditforacertainamountofobservationandcommonsense.ForsomereasonorotheryouhavegotitintoyourheadthatIknowsomethingaboutthissordidbusiness—thismurderofamanIneversawbefore.”
“Youareimaginingthings,Mademoiselle.”
“No,Iamnotimaginingthingsatall.Butitseemstomethatalotoftimeiswastedbynotspeakingthetruth—bybeatingaboutthebushinsteadofcomingstraightoutwiththings.”
“Andyoudonotlikethewasteoftime.No,youliketocomestraighttothepoint.Youlikethedirectmethod.Ehbien,Iwillgiveittoyou,thedirectmethod.IwillaskyouthemeaningofcertainwordsthatIoverheardonthejourneyfromSyria.IhadgotoutofthetraintodowhattheEnglishcall‘stretchthelegs’atthestationofKonya.YourvoiceandtheColonel’s,Mademoiselle,theycametomeoutofthenight.Yousaidtohim,‘Notnow.Notnow.Whenit’sallover.Whenit’sbehindus.’Whatdidyoumeanbythosewords.Mademoiselle?”
Shesaidveryquietly:
“DoyouthinkImeant—murder?”
“ItisIwhoamaskingyou,Mademoiselle.”
Shesighed—waslostaminuteinthought.Then,asthoughrousingherself,shesaid:
“Thosewordshadameaning,Monsieur,butnotonethatIcantellyou.IcanonlygiveyoumysolemnwordofhonourthatIhadneverseteyesonthismanRatchettinmylifeuntilIsawhimonthistrain.”
“And—yourefusetoexplainthosewords?”
“Yes—ifyouliketoputitthatway—Irefuse.Theyhadtodowith—withataskIhadundertaken.”
“Ataskthatisnowended?”
“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Itisended,isitnot?”
“Whyshouldyouthinkso?”
“Listen,Mademoiselle,Iwillrecalltoyouanotherincident.TherewasadelaytothetrainonthedayweweretoreachStamboul.Youwereveryagitated,Mademoiselle.You,socalm,soself-controlled.Youlostthatcalm.”
“Ididnotwanttomissmyconnection.”
“Soyousaid.But,Mademoiselle,theOrientExpressleavesStambouleverydayoftheweek.Evenifyouhadmissedtheconnectionitwouldonlyhavebeenamatteroftwenty-fourhours’delay.”
MissDebenhamforthefirsttimeshowedsignsoflosinghertemper.
“Youdonotseemtorealizethatonemayhavefriendsawaitingone’sarrivalinLondon,andthataday’sdelayupsetsarrangementsandcausesalotofannoyance.”
“Ah,itislikethat?Therearefriendsawaitingyourarrival?Youdonotwanttocausetheminconvenience?”
“Naturally.”
“Andyet—itiscurious—”
“Whatiscurious?”
“Onthistrain—againwehaveadelay.Andthistimeamoreseriousdelay,sincethereisnopossibilityofsendingatelegramtoyourfriendsorofgettingthemonthelong—thelong—”
“Thelongdistance?Thetelephone,youmean.”
“Ah,yes,theportmanteaucall,asyousayinEngland.”
MaryDebenhamsmiledalittleinspiteofherself.
“Trunkcall,”shecorrected.“Yes,asyousay,itisextremelyannoyingnottobeabletogetanywordthrough,eitherbytelephoneortelegraph.”
“Andyet,mademoiselle,thistimeyourmannerisquitedifferent.Younolongerbetraytheimpatience.Youarecalmandphilosophical.”
MaryDebenhamflushedandbitherlip.Shenolongerfeltinclinedtosmile.
“Youdonotanswer,Mademoiselle?”
“Iamsorry.Ididnotknowthattherewasanythingtoanswer.”
“Theexplanationofyourchangeofattitude,Mademoiselle.”
“Don’tyouthinkthatyouaremakingratherafussaboutnothing,M.Poirot?”
Poirotspreadouthishandsinanapologeticgesture.
“Itisperhapsafaultwithusdetectives.Weexpectthebehaviourtobealwaysconsistent.Wedonotallowforchangesofmood.”
MaryDebenhammadenoreply.
“YouknowColonelArbuthnotwell,Mademoiselle?”
Hefanciedthatshewasrelievedbythechangeofsubject.
“Imethimforthefirsttimeonthisjourney.”
“HaveyouanyreasontosuspectthathemayhaveknownthismanRatchett?”
Sheshookherheaddecisively.
“Iamquitesurehedidn’t.”
“Whyareyousure?”
“Bythewayhespoke.”
“Andyet,Mademoiselle,wefoundapipecleaneronthefloorofthedeadman’scompartment.AndColonelArbuthnotistheonlymanonthetrainwhosmokesapipe?”
Hewatchedhernarrowly,butshedisplayedneithersurprisenoremotion,merelysaid:
“Nonsense.It’sabsurd.ColonelArbuthnotisthelastmanintheworldtobemixedupinacrime—especiallyatheatricalkindofcrimelikethis.”
ItwassomuchwhatPoirothimselfthoughtthathefoundhimselfonthepointofagreeingwithher.Hesaidinstead:
“Imustremindyouthatyoudonotknowhimverywell,Mademoiselle.”
Sheshruggedhershoulders.
“Iknowthetypewellenough.”
Hesaidverygently:
“Youstillrefusetotellmethemeaningofthosewords—‘Whenit’sbehindus?’”
Shesaidcoldly:
“Ihavenothingmoretosay.”
“Itdoesnotmatter,”saidHerculePoirot.“Ishallfindout.”
Hebowedandleftthecompartment,closingthedoorafterhim.
“Wasthatwise,myfriend?”askedM.Bouc.“Youhaveputheronherguard—andthroughheryouhaveputtheColonelonhisguardalso.”
“Monami,ifyouwishtocatcharabbityouputaferretintothehole,andiftherabbitisthereheruns.ThatisallIhavedone.”
TheyenteredthecompartmentofHildegardeSchmidt.
Thewomanwasstandinginreadiness,herfacerespectfulbutunemotional.
Poirottookaquickglancethroughthecontentsofthesmallcaseontheseat.Thenhemotionedtotheattendanttogetdownthebiggersuitcasefromtherack.
“Thekeys?”hesaid.
“Itisnotlocked,Monsieur.”
Poirotundidthehaspsandliftedthelid.
“Aha!”hesaid,andturningtoM.Bouc,“YourememberwhatIsaid?Lookherealittlemoment!”
OnthetopofthesuitcasewasahastilyrolledupbrownWagonLituniform.
ThestolidityoftheGermanwomanunderwentasuddenchange.
“Ach!”shecried.“Thatisnotmine.Ididnotputitthere.IhaveneverlookedinthatcasesinceweleftStamboul.Indeed,indeed,itistrue.”
Shelookedfromonetoanotherpleadingly.
Poirottookhergentlybythearmandsoothedher.
“No,noalliswell.Webelieveyou.Donotbeagitated.IamassureyoudidnothidetheuniformthereasIamsurethatyouareagoodcook.See.Youareagoodcook,areyounot?”
Bewildered,thewomansmiledinspiteofherself.
“Yes,indeed,allmyladieshavesaidso.I—”
Shestopped,hermouthopen,lookingfrightenedagain.
“No,no,”saidPoirot.“Iassureyoualliswell.See,Iwilltellyouhowthishappened.Thisman,themanyousawinWagonLituniform,comesoutofthedeadman’scompartment.Hecollideswithyou.Thatisbadluckforhim.Hehashopedthatnoonewillseehim.Whattodonext?Hemustgetridofhisuniform.Itisnownotasafeguard,butadanger.”
HisglancewenttoM.BoucandDr.Constantine,whowerelisteningattentively
“Thereisthesnow,yousee.Thesnowwhichconfusesallhisplans.Wherecanhehidetheseclothes?Allthecompartmentsarefull.No,hepassesonewherethedoorisopenandshowsittobeunoccupied.Itmustbetheonebelongingtothewomanwithwhomhehasjustcollided.Heslipsin,removestheuniformandjamsithurriedlyintoasuitcaseontherack.Itmaybesometimebeforeitisdiscovered.”
“Andthen?”saidM.Bouc.
“Thatwemustdiscuss,”saidPoirotwithawarningglance.
Heheldupthetunic.Abutton,thethirddown,wasmissing.Poirotslippedhishandintothepocketandtookoutaconductor’spasskey,usedtounlockthedoorsofthecompartments.
“Hereistheexplanationofhowourmanwasabletopassthroughlockeddoors,”saidM.Bouc.“YourquestionstoMrs.Hubbardwereunnecessary.Lockedornotlocked,themancouldeasilygetthroughthecommunicatingdoor.Afterall,ifaWagonLituniform,whynotaWagonLitkey?”
“Whynot,indeed,”saidPoirot.
“Wemighthaveknownit,really.YourememberMichelsaidthatthedoorintothecorridorofMrs.Hubbard’scompartmentwaslockedwhenhecameinanswertoherbell.”
“Thatisso,Monsieur,”saidtheconductor.“ThatiswhyIthoughttheladymusthavebeendreaming.”
“Butnowitiseasy,”continuedM.Bouc.“Doubtlesshemeanttorelockthecommunicatingdooralso,butperhapsheheardsomemovementfromthebedanditstartledhim.”
“Wehavenow,”saidPoirot,“onlytofindthescarletkimono.”
“True.Andtheselasttwocompartmentsareoccupiedbymen.”
“Wewillsearchallthesame.”
“Oh!assuredly.Besides,Irememberwhatyousaid.”
HectorMacQueenacquiescedwillinglyinthesearch.
“I’djustassoonyoudid,”hesaidwitharuefulsmile.“IfeelI’mjustdefinitelythemostsuspiciouscharacteronthetrain.You’veonlygottofindawillinwhichtheoldmanleftmeallhismoney,andthat’lljustaboutfixthings.”
M.Boucbentasuspiciousglanceuponhim.
“That’sjustmyfun,”saidMacQueenhastily.“He’dneverhaveleftmeacent,really.Iwasjustusefultohim—languagesandsoon.You’reapttobedonedown,youknow,ifyoudon’tspeakanythingbutgoodAmerican.I’mnolinguistmyself,butIknowwhatIcallshoppingandhotelsnappybitsinFrenchandGermanandItalian.”
Hisvoicewasalittlelouderthanusual.Itwasasthoughhewasslightlyuneasyatthesearchinspiteofhiswillingness.
Poirotemerged.
“Nothing,”hesaid.“Notevenacompromisingbequest!”
MacQueensighed.
“Well,that’saloadoffmymind,”hesaidhumorously.
Theymovedontothelastcompartment.TheexaminationoftheluggageofthebigItalianandofthevaletyieldednoresult.
Thethreemenstoodattheendofthecoachlookingateachother.
“Whatnext?”askedM.Bouc.
“Wewillgobacktothediningcar,”saidPoirot.“Weknownowallthatwecanknow.Wehavetheevidenceofthepassengers,theevidenceoftheirbaggage,theevidenceofoureyes.Wecanexpectnofurtherhelp.Itmustbeourpartnowtouseourbrains.”
Hefeltinhispocketforhiscigarettecase.Itwasempty.
“Iwilljoinyouinamoment,”hesaid.“Ishallneedthecigarettes.Thisisaverydifficult,averycuriousaffair.Whoworethatscarletkimono?Whereisitnow?IwishIknew.Thereissomethinginthiscase—somefactor—thatescapesme!Itisdifficultbecauseithasbeenmadedifficult.Butwewilldiscussit.Pardonmeamoment.”
Hewenthurriedlyalongthecorridortohisowncompartment.Hehad,heknew,afurthersupplyofcigarettesinoneofhisvalises.
Hegotitdownandsnappedbackthelock.
Thenhesatbackonhisheelsandstared.
Neatlyfoldedonthetopofthecasewasathinscarletsilkkimonoembroideredwithdragons.
“So,”hemurmured.“Itislikethat.Adefiance.Verywell.Itakeitup.”
PARTTHREE
HERCULEPOIROTSITSBACKANDTHINKS
One
WHICHOFTHEM?
M.BoucandDr.ConstantineweretalkingtogetherwhenPoirotenteredthediningcar.M.Boucwaslookingdepressed.
“Levoilà,”saidthelatterwhenhesawPoirot.
Thenheaddedashisfriendsatdown:
“Ifyousolvethiscase,moncher,Ishallindeedbelieveinmiracles!”
“Itworriesyou,thiscase?”
“Naturallyitworriesme.Icannotmakeheadortailofit.”
“Iagree,”saidthedoctor.
HelookedatPoirotwithinterest.
“Tobefrank,”hesaid,“Icannotseewhatyouaregoingtodonext.”
“No?”saidPoirotthoughtfully.
Hetookouthiscigarettecaseandlitoneofhistinycigarettes.Hiseyesweredreamy.
“That,tome,istheinterestofthiscase,”hesaid.“Wearecutofffromallthenormalroutesofprocedure.Arethesepeoplewhoseevidencewehavetakenspeakingthetruthorlying?Wehavenomeansoffindingout—exceptsuchmeansaswecandeviseourselves.Itisanexercise,this,ofthebrain.”
“Thatisallveryfine,”saidM.Bouc.“Butwhathaveyoutogoupon?”
“Itoldyoujustnow.Wehavetheevidenceofthepassengersandtheevidenceofourowneyes.”
“Prettyevidence—thatofthepassengers!Ittoldusjustnothingatall.”
Poirotshookhishead.
“Idonotagree,myfriend.Theevidenceofthepassengersgaveusseveralpointsofinterest.”
“Indeed,”saidM.Boucsceptically.“Ididnotobserveit.”
“Thatisbecauseyoudidnotlisten.”
“Well,tellme—whatdidImiss?”
“Iwilljusttakeoneinstance—thefirstevidenceweheard—thatoftheyoungMacQueen.Heuttered,tomymind,oneverysignificantphrase.”
“Abouttheletters?”
“No,notabouttheletters.AsfarasIcanremember,hiswordswere:‘Wetravelledabout.Mr.Ratchettwantedtoseetheworld.Hewashamperedbyknowingnolanguages.Iactedmoreasacourierthanasecretary.’”
Helookedfromthedoctor’sfacetothatofM.Bouc.
“What?Youstilldonotsee?Thatisinexcusable—foryouhadasecondchanceagainjustnowwhenhesaid,‘You’reapttobedonedownifyouspeaknothingbutgoodAmerican.’”
“Youmean—?”M.Boucstilllookedpuzzled.
“Ah,itisthatyouwantitgiventoyouinwordsofonesyllable.Well,hereitis!M.RatchettspokenoFrench.Yet,whentheconductorcameinanswertohisbelllastnight,itwasavoicespeakinginFrenchthattoldhimthatitwasamistakeandthathewasnotwanted.Itwas,moreover,aperfectlyidiomaticphrasethatwasused,notonethatamanknowingonlyafewwordsofFrenchwouldhaveselected.‘Cen’estrien.Jemesuistrompé.’”
“Itistrue,”criedConstantineexcitedly.“Weshouldhaveseenthat!Irememberyourlayingstressonthewordswhenyourepeatedthemtous.NowIunderstandyourreluctancetorelyupontheevidenceofthedentedwatch.Already,attwenty-threeminutestoone,Ratchettwasdead—”
“Anditwashismurdererspeaking!”finishedM.Boucimpressively.
Poirotraisedadeprecatinghand.
“Letusnotgotoofast.Anddonotletusassumemorethanweactuallyknow.Itissafe,Ithink,tosaythatatthattime,twenty-threeminutestoone,someotherpersonwasinRatchett’scompartmentandthatthatpersonwaseitherFrench,orcouldspeaktheFrenchlanguagefluently.”
“Youareverycautious,monvieux.”
“Oneshouldadvanceonlyastepatatime.WehavenoactualevidencethatRatchettwasdeadatthattime.”
“Thereisthecrythatawakenedyou.”
“Yes,thatistrue.”
“Inoneway,”saidM.Boucthoughtfully,“thisdiscoverydoesnotaffectthingsverymuch.Youheardsomeonemovingaboutnextdoor.ThatsomeonewasnotRatchett,buttheotherman.Doubtlessheiswashingbloodfromhishands,clearingupafterthecrime,burningtheincriminatingletter.Thenhewaitstillallisstill,andwhenhethinksitissafeandthecoastisclearhelocksandchainsRatchett’sdoorontheinside,unlocksthecommunicatingdoorthroughintoMrs.Hubbard’scompartmentandslipsoutthatway.Infactitisexactlyaswethought—withthedifferencethatRatchettwaskilledabouthalfanhourearlier,andthewatchputontoaquarterpastonetocreateanalibi.”
“Notsuchafamousalibi,”saidPoirot.“Thehandsofthewatchpointedto1:15—theexacttimewhentheintruderactuallyleftthesceneofthecrime.”
“True,”saidM.Bouc,alittleconfused.“What,then,doesthewatchconveytoyou?”
“Ifthehandswerealtered—Isayif—thenthetimeatwhichtheyweresetmusthaveasignificance.Thenaturalreactionwouldbetosuspectanyonewhohadareliablealibiforthetimeindicated—inthiscase1:15.”
“Yes,Yes,”saidthedoctor.“Thatreasoningisgood.”
“Wemustalsopayalittleattentiontothetimetheintruderenteredthecompartment.Whenhadheanopportunityofdoingso?Unlesswearetoassumethecomplicityoftherealconductor,therewasonlyonetimewhenhecouldhavedoneso—duringthetimethetrainstoppedatVincovci.AfterthetrainleftVincovcitheconductorwassittingfacingthecorridorandwhereasanyoneofthepassengerswouldpaylittleattentiontoaWagonLitattendant,theonepersonwhowouldnoticeanimposterwouldbetherealconductor.ButduringthehaltatVincovcitheconductorisoutontheplatform.Thecoastisclear.”
“And,byourformerreasoning,itmustbeoneofthepassengers,”saidM.Bouc.“Wecomebacktowherewewere.Whichofthem?”
Poirotsmiled.
“Ihavemadealist,”hesaid,“Ifyouliketoseeit,itwill,perhaps,refreshyourmemory.”
ThedoctorandM.Boucporedoverthelisttogether.Itwaswrittenoutneatlyinamethodicalmannerintheorderinwhichthepassengershadbeeninterviewed.
HectorMacQueen—Americansubject.BerthNo.6.SecondClass.
Motive:Possiblyarisingoutofassociationwithdeadman?Alibi:Frommidnightto2a.m.(Midnightto1:30vouchedforbyCol.Arbuthnotand1:15to2vouchedforbyconductor.)EvidenceAgainstHim:None.SuspiciousCircumstances:None.
Conductor—PierreMichel—Frenchsubject.
Motive:None.Alibi:Frommidnightto2a.m.(SeenbyH.P.incorridoratsametimeasvoicespokefromRatchett’scompartmentat12:37.From1a.m.to1:16vouchedforbyothertwoconductors.)EvidenceAgainstHim:None.SuspiciousCircumstances:TheWagonLituniformfoundisapointinhisfavoursinceitseemstohavebeenintendedtothrowsuspiciononhim.
EdwardMasterman—Englishsubject.BerthNo.4.SecondClass
Motive:Possiblyarisingoutofconnectionwithdeceased,whosevalethewas.Alibi:Frommidnightto2a.m.(VouchedforbyAntonioFoscarelli.)EvidenceAgainstHimorSuspiciousCircumstances:None,exceptthatheistheonlymantherightheightorsizetohaveworntheWagonLituniform.Ontheotherhand,itisunlikelythathespeaksFrenchwell.
Mrs.Hubbard—Americansubject.BerthNo.3.FirstClass.
Motive:None.Alibi:Frommidnightto2a.m.—None.EvidenceAgainstHerorSuspiciousCircumstances:StoryofmaninhercompartmentissubstantiatedbytheevidenceofHardmanandthatofthewomanSchmidt.
GretaOhlsson—Swedishsubject.BerthNo.10.SecondClass.
Motive:None.Alibi:Frommidnightto2a.m.(VouchedforbyMaryDebenham.)Note.—WaslasttoseeRatchettalive.
PrincessDragomiroff—NaturalizedFrenchsubject.BerthNo.14.FirstClass.
Motive:WasintimatelyacquaintedwithArmstrongfamily,andgodmothertoSoniaArmstrong.Alibi:Frommidnightto2a.m.(Vouchedforbyconductorandmaid.)EvidenceAgainstHerorSuspiciousCircumstances:None.
CountAndrenyi—Hungariansubject.Diplomaticpassport.BerthNo.13.FirstClass.
Motive:None.Alibi:Midnightto2a.m.(Vouchedforbyconductor—thisdoesnotcoverperiodfrom1to1:15.)
CountessAndrenyi—Asabove.BerthNo.12.
Motive:None.Alibi:Midnightto2a.m.Tooktrionalandslept.(Vouchedforbyhusband.Trionalbottleinhercupboard.)
ColonelArbuthnot—Britishsubject.BerthNo.15.FirstClass
Motive:None.Alibi:Midnightto2a.m.TalkedwithMacQueentill1:30.Wenttoowncompartmentanddidnotleaveit.(SubstantiatedbyMacQueenandconductor.)EvidenceAgainstHimorSuspiciousCircumstances:Pipecleaner.
CyrusHardman—Americansubject.BerthNo.16.SecondClass
Motive:Noneknown.Alibi:Midnightto2a.m.Didnotleavecompartment.(SubstantiatedbyMacQueenandconductor.)EvidenceAgainstHimorSuspiciousCircumstances:None.
AntonioFoscarelli—Americansubject.(Italianbirth.)BerthNo.5.SecondClass
Motive:Noneknown.
Alibi:Midnightto2a.m.(VouchedforbyEdwardMasterman.)EvidenceAgainstHimorSuspiciousCircumstances:None,exceptthatweaponusedmightbesaidtosuithistemperament.(VideM.Bouc.)
MaryDebenham—Britishsubject.BerthNo.11.SecondClass
Motive:None.Alibi:Midnightto2a.m.(VouchedforbyGretaOhlsson.)EvidenceAgainstHerorSuspiciousCircumstances:andherrefusaltoexplainsame.
HildegardeSchmidt—Germansubject.BerthNo.8.SecondClass.
Motive:None.Alibi:Midnightto2a.m.(Vouchedforbyconductorandhermistress.)Wenttobed.Wasarousedbyconductorat12:38approx.andwenttomistress.Note:TheevidenceofthepassengersissupportedbythestatementoftheconductorthatnooneenteredorleftMr.Ratchett’scompartmentbetweenthehoursofmidnightto1o’clock(whenhehimselfwentintothenextcoach)andfrom1:15to2o’clock.
“Thatdocument,youunderstand,”saidPoirot,“isamereprécisoftheevidenceweheard,arrangedthatwayforconvenience.”
WithagrimaceM.Bouchandeditback.
“Itisnotilluminating,”hesaid.
“Perhapsyoumayfindthismoretoyourtaste,”saidPoirotwithaslightsmileashehandedhimasecondsheetofpaper.
Two
TENQUESTIONS
Onthepaperwaswritten:
Thingsneedingexplanation.
ThehandkerchiefmarkedwiththeinitialH.Whoseisit?
Thepipecleaner.WasitdroppedbyColonelArbuthnot?Orbysomeoneelse?
Whoworethescarletkimono?
WhowasthemanorwomanmasqueradinginWagonLituniform?
Whydothehandsofthewatchpointto1:15?
Wasthemurdercommittedatthattime?
Wasitearlier?
Wasitlater?
CanwebesurethatRatchettwasstabbedbymorethanoneperson?
Whatotherexplanationofhiswoundscantherebe?
“Well,letusseewhatwecando,”saidM.Bouc,brighteningalittleatthischallengetohiswits.“Thehandkerchieftobeginwith.Letusbyallmeansbeorderlyandmethodical.”
“Assuredly,”saidPoirot,noddinghisheadinasatisfiedfashion.
M.Bouccontinuedsomewhatdidactically
“TheinitialHisconnectedwiththreepeople—Mrs.Hubbard,MissDebenham,whosesecondnameisHermione,andthemaidHildegardeSchmidt.”
“Ah!Andofthosethree?”
“Itisdifficulttosay.ButIthinkIshouldvoteforMissDebenham.Foralloneknows,shemaybecalledbyhersecondnameandnotherfirst.Alsothereisalreadysomesuspicionattachingtoher.Thatconversationyouoverheard,moncher,wascertainlyalittlecurious,andsoisherrefusaltoexplainit.”
“Asforme,IplumpfortheAmerican,”saidDr.Constantine.“Itisaveryexpensivehandkerchiefthat,andAmericans,asalltheworldknows,donotcarewhattheypay.”
“Soyoubotheliminatethemaid?”askedPoirot.
“Yes.Assheherselfsaid,itisthehandkerchiefofamemberoftheupperclasses.”
“Andthesecondquestion—thepipecleaner.DidColonelArbuthnotdropit,orsomebodyelse?”
“Thatismoredifficult.TheEnglish,theydonotstab.Youarerightthere.Iinclinetotheviewthatsomeoneelsedroppedthepipecleaner—anddidsotoincriminatethelong-leggedEnglishman.”
“Asyousaid,M.Poirot,”putinthedoctor,“twocluesistoomuchcarelessness.IagreewithM.Bouc.Thehandkerchiefwasagenuineoversight—hencenoonewilladmitthatitistheirs.Thepipecleanerisafakedclue.Insupportofthattheory,younoticethatColonelArbuthnotshowsnoembarrassmentandadmitsfreelytosmokingapipeandusingthattypeofcleaner.”
“Youreasonwell,”saidPoirot.
“QuestionNo.3—whoworethescarletkimono?”wentonM.Bouc.“AstothatIwillconfessIhavenottheslightestidea.Haveyouanyviewsonthesubject,Dr.Constantine?”
“None.”
“Thenweconfessourselvesbeatenthere.Thenextquestionhas,atanyrate,possibilities.WhowasthemanorwomanmasqueradinginWagonLituniform?Well,onecansaywithcertaintyanumberofpeoplewhomitcouldnotbe.Hardman,ColonelArbuthnot,Foscarelli,CountAndrenyiandHectorMacQueenarealltootall.Mrs.Hubbard,HildegardeSchmidtandGretaOhlssonaretoobroad.Thatleavesthevalet,MissDebenham,PrincessDragomiroffandCountessAndrenyi—andnoneofthemsoundslikely!GretaOhlssoninonecaseandAntonioFoscarelliintheotherbothswearthatMissDebenhamandthevaletneverlefttheircompartments,HildegardeSchmidtswearstothePrincessbeinginhers,andCountAndrenyihastoldusthathiswifetookasleepingdraught.Thereforeitseemsimpossiblethatitcanbeanybody—whichisabsurd!”
“AsouroldfriendEuclidsays,”murmuredPoirot.
“Itmustbeoneofthosefour,”saidDr.Constantine.“Unlessitissomeonefromoutsidewhohasfoundahidingplace—andthat,weagreed,wasimpossible.”
M.Bouchadpassedontothenextquestiononthelist.
“No.5—whydothehandsofthebrokenwatchpointto1:15?Icanseetwoexplanationsofthat.Eitheritwasdonebythemurderertoestablishanalibiandafterwardshewaspreventedfromleavingthecompartmentwhenhemeanttodosobyhearingpeoplemovingabout,orelse—wait—Ihaveanideacoming—”
TheothertwowaitedrespectfullywhileM.Boucstruggledinmentalagony.
“Ihaveit,”hesaidatlast.“ItwasnottheWagonLitmurdererwhotamperedwiththewatch!ItwasthepersonwehavecalledtheSecondMurderer—theleft-handedperson—inotherwordsthewomaninthescarletkimono.Shearriveslaterandmovesbackthehandsofthewatchinordertomakeanalibiforherself.”
“Bravo,”saidDr.Constantine.“Itiswellimagined,that.”
“Infact,”saidPoirot,“shestabbedhiminthedark,notrealizingthathewasdeadalready,butsomehowdeducedthathehadawatchinhispyjamapocket,tookitout,putbackthehandsblindlyandgaveittherequisitedent.”
M.Bouclookedathimcoldly.
“Haveyouanythingbettertosuggestyourself?”heasked.
“Atthemoment—no,”admittedPoirot.
“Allthesame,”hewenton,“Idonotthinkyouhaveeitherofyouappreciatedthemostinterestingpointaboutthatwatch.”
“DoesquestionNo.6dealwithit?”askedthedoctor.“Tothatquestion—wasthemurdercommittedatthattime—1:15—Ianswer,‘No.’”
“Iagree,”saidM.Bouc.“‘Wasitearlier?’isthenextquestion.Isayyes.You,too,doctor?”
Thedoctornodded.
“Yes,butthequestion‘Wasitlater?’canalsobeansweredintheaffirmative.Iagreewithyourtheory,M.Bouc,andso,Ithink,doesM.Poirot,althoughhedoesnotwishtocommithimself.TheFirstMurderercameearlierthan1:15,theSecondMurderercameafter1:15.Andasregardsthequestionofleft-handedness,oughtwenottotakestepstoascertainwhichofthepassengersisleft-handed?”
“Ihavenotcompletelyneglectedthatpoint,”saidPoirot.“YoumayhavenoticedthatImadeeachpassengerwriteeitherasignatureoranaddress.Thatisnotconclusive,becausesomepeopledocertainactionswiththerighthandandotherswiththeleft.Somewriteright-handed,butplaygolfleft-handed.Stillitissomething.Everypersonquestionedtookthepenintheirrighthand—withtheexceptionofPrincessDragomiroff,whorefusedtowrite.”
“PrincessDragomiroff,impossible,”saidM.Bouc.
“Idoubtifshewouldhavehadthestrengthtoinflictthatparticularleft-handedblow,”saidDr.Constantinedubiously.“Thatparticularwoundhadbeeninflictedwithconsiderableforce.”
“Moreforcethanawomancoulduse?”
“No,Iwouldnotsaythat.ButIthinkmoreforcethananelderlywomancoulddisplay,andPrincessDragomiroff’sphysiqueisparticularlyfrail.”
“Itmightbeaquestionoftheinfluenceofmindoverbody,”saidPoirot.“PrincessDragomiroffhasgreatpersonalityandimmensewillpower.Butletuspassfromthatforthemoment.”
“ToquestionsNos.9and10.CanwebesurethatRatchettwasstabbedbymorethanoneperson,andwhatotherexplanationofthewoundscantherebe?Inmyopinion,medicallyspeaking,therecanbenootherexplanationofthosewounds.Tosuggestthatonemanstruckfirstfeeblyandthenwithviolence,firstwiththerighthandandthenwiththeleft,andafteranintervalofperhapshalfanhourinflictedfreshwoundsonadeadbody—well,itdoesnotmakesense.”
“No,”saidPoirot.“Itdoesnotmakesense.Andyouthinkthattwomurderersdomakesense?”
“Asyouyourselfhavesaid,whatotherexplanationcantherebe?”
Poirotstaredstraightaheadofhim.
“ThatiswhatIaskmyself,”hesaid.“ThatiswhatIneverceasetoaskmyself.”
Heleanedbackinhisseat.
“Fromnowon,itisallhere,”hetappedhimselfontheforehead.“Wehavethrasheditallout.Thefactsareallinfrontofus—neatlyarrangedwithorderandmethod.Thepassengershavesathere,onebyone,givingtheirevidence.Weknowallthatcanbeknown—fromoutside.…”
HegaveanaffectionatesmileatM.Bouc.
“Ithasbeenalittlejokebetweenus,hasitnot—thisbusinessofsittingbackandthinkingoutthetruth?Well,Iamabouttoputmytheoryintopractice—herebeforeyoureyes.Youtwomustdothesame.Letusallthreecloseoureyesandthink.…”
“OneormoreofthosepassengerskilledRatchett.Whichofthem?”
Three
CERTAINSUGGESTIVEPOINTS
Itwasquiteaquarterofanhourbeforeanyonespoke.
M.BoucandDr.ConstantinehadstartedbytryingtoobeyPoirot’sinstructions.Theyhadendeavouredtoseethroughthemazeofconflictingparticularstoaclearandoutstandingsolution.
M.Bouc’sthoughtshadrunsomethingasfollows:
“AssuredlyImustthink.ButasfarasthatgoesIhavealreadythought…PoirotobviouslythinksthisEnglishgirlismixedupinthematter.Icannothelpfeelingthatthatismostunlikely…TheEnglishareextremelycold.Probablyitisbecausetheyhavenofigures…Butthatisnotthepoint.ItseemsthattheItaliancouldnothavedoneit—apity.IsupposetheEnglishvaletisnotlyingwhenhesaidtheotherneverleftthecompartment?Butwhyshouldhe?ItisnoteasytobribetheEnglish,theyaresounapproachable.Thewholethingismostunfortunate.Iwonderwhenweshallgetoutofthis.Theremustbesomerescueworkinprogress.Theyaresoslowinthesecountries…itishoursbeforeanyonethinksofdoinganything.Andthepoliceofthesecountries,theywillbemosttryingtodealwith—puffedupwithimportance,touchy,ontheirdignity.Theywillmakeagrandaffairofallthis.Itisnotoftenthatsuchachancecomestheirway.Itwillbeinallthenewspapers….”
AndfromthereonM.Bouc’sthoughtswentalongawell-worncoursewhichtheyhadalreadytraversedsomehundredtimes.
Dr.Constantine’sthoughtsranthus:
“Heisqueer,thislittleman.Agenius?Oracrank?Willhesolvethismystery?Impossible.Icanseenowayoutofit.Itisalltooconfusing…Everyoneislying,perhaps…Buteventhenthatdoesnothelpone.Iftheyarealllyingitisjustasconfusingasiftheywerespeakingthetruth.Oddaboutthosewounds.Icannotunderstandit…Itwouldbeeasiertounderstandifhehadbeenshot—afterall,thetermgunmanmustmeanthattheyshootwithagun.Acuriouscountry,America.Ishouldliketogothere.Itissoprogressive.WhenIgethomeImustgetholdofDemetriusZagone—hehasbeentoAmerica,hehasallthemodernideas…IwonderwhatZiaisdoingatthismoment.Ifmywifeeverfindsout—”
Histhoughtswentontoentirelyprivatematters.
HerculePoirotsatverystill.
Onemighthavethoughthewasasleep.
Andthen,suddenly,afteraquarterofanhour’scompleteimmobility,hiseyebrowsbegantomoveslowlyuphisforehead.Alittlesighescapedhim.Hemurmuredbeneathhisbreath:
“But,afterall,whynot?Andifso—why,ifso,thatwouldexplaineverything.”
Hiseyesopened.Theyweregreenlikeacat’s.Hesaidsoftly:
“Ehbien.Ihavethought.Andyou?”
Lostintheirreflections,bothmenstartedviolently.
“Ihavethoughtalso,”saidM.Boucjustashadeguilty.“ButIhavearrivedatnoconclusion.Theelucidationofcrimeisyourmétier,notmine,myfriend.”
“I,too,havereflectedwithgreatearnestness,”saidthedoctorunblushingly,recallinghisthoughtsfromcertainpornographicdetails.“Ihavethoughtofmanypossibletheories,butnotonethatreallysatisfiesme.”
Poirotnoddedamiably.Hisnodseemedtosay:
“Quiteright.Thatistheproperthingtosay.YouhavegivenmethecueIexpected.”
Hesatveryupright,threwouthischest,caressedhismoustacheandspokeinthemannerofapractisedspeakeraddressingapublicmeeting.
“Myfriends,Ihavereviewedthefactsinmymind,andhavealsogoneovertomyselftheevidenceofthepassengers—withthisresult.Isee,nebulouslyasyet,acertainexplanationthatwouldcoverthefactsasweknowthem.Itisaverycuriousexplanation,andIcannotbesureasyetthatitisthetrueone.Tofindoutdefinitely,Ishallhavetomakecertainexperiments.
“Iwouldlikefirsttomentioncertainpointswhichappeartomesuggestive.LetusstartwitharemarkmadetomebyM.Boucinthisveryplaceontheoccasionofourfirstlunchtogetheronthetrain.Hecommentedonthefactthatweweresurroundedbypeopleofallclasses,ofallages,ofallnationalities.Thatisafactsomewhatrareatthistimeofyear.TheAthens-ParisandtheBucharest-Pariscoaches,forinstance,arealmostempty.Rememberalsoonepassengerwhofailedtoturnup.Itis,Ithink,significant.Thentherearesomeminorpointsthatstrikemeassuggestive—forinstance,thepositionofMrs.Hubbard’sspongebag,thenameofMrs.Armstrong’smother,thedetectivemethodsofM.Hardman,thesuggestionofM.MacQueenthatRatchetthimselfdestroyedthecharrednotewefound,PrincessDragomiroff’sChristianname,andagreasespotonaHungarianpassport.”
Thetwomenstaredathim.
“Dotheysuggestanythingtoyou,thosepoints?”askedPoirot.
“Notathing,”saidM.Boucfrankly.
“AndM.ledocteur?”
“Idonotunderstandintheleastofwhatyouaretalking.”M.Bouc,meanwhile,seizingupontheonetangiblethinghisfriendhadmentioned,wassortingthroughthepassports.WithagrunthepickedupthatofCountandCountessAndrenyiandopenedit.
“Isthiswhatyoumean?Thisdirtymark?”
“Yes.Itisafairlyfreshgreasespot.Younoticewhereitoccurs?”
“AtthebeginningofthedescriptionoftheCount’swife—herChristianname,tobeexact.ButIconfessthatIstilldonotseethepoint.”
“Iamgoingtoapproachitfromanotherangle.Letusgobacktothehandkerchieffoundatthesceneofthecrime.Aswehavestatednotlongago—threepeopleareassociatedwiththeletterH.Mrs.Hubbard,MissDebenhamandthemaid,HildegardeSchmidt.Nowletusregardthathandkerchieffromanotherpointofview.Itis,myfriends,anextremelyexpensivehandkerchief—anobjetdeluxe,handmade,embroideredinParis.Whichofthepassengers,apartfromtheinitial,waslikelytoownsuchahandkerchief?NotMrs.Hubbard,aworthywomanwithnopretensionstorecklessextravaganceindress.NotMissDebenham;thatclassofEnglish-womanhasadaintylinenhandkerchief,butnotanexpensivewispofcambriccostingperhapstwohundredfrancs.Andcertainlynotthemaid.Buttherearetwowomenonthetrainwhowouldbelikelytoownsuchahandkerchief.LetusseeifwecanconnecttheminanywaywiththeletterH.ThetwowomenIrefertoarePrincessDragomiroff—”
“WhoseChristiannameisNatalia,”putinM.Boucironically.
“Exactly.AndherChristianname,asIsaidjustnow,isdecidedlysuggestive.TheotherwomanisCountessAndrenyi.Andatoncesomethingstrikesus—”
“You!”
“Me,then.HerChristiannameonherpassportisdisfiguredbyablobofgrease.Justanaccident,anyonewouldsay.ButconsiderthatChristianname.Elena.Supposethat,insteadofElena,itwereHelena.ThatcapitalHcouldbeturnedintoacapitalEandthenrunoverthesmallenexttoitquiteeasily—andthenaspotofgreasedroppedtocoverupthealteration.”
“Helena,”criedM.Bouc.“Itisanidea,that.”
“Certainlyitisanidea!Ilookaboutforanyconfirmation,howeverslight,ofmyidea—andIfindit.OneoftheluggagelabelsontheCountess’sbaggageisslightlydamp.Itisonethathappenstorunoverthefirstinitialontopofthecase.Thatlabelhasbeensoakedoffandputonagaininadifferentplace.”
“Youbegintoconvinceme,”saidM.Bouc,“ButtheCountessAndrenyi—surely—”
“Ah,now,monvieux,youmustturnyourselfroundandapproachanentirelydifferentangleofthecase.Howwasthismurderintendedtoappeartoeverybody?Donotforgetthatthesnowhasupsetallthemurderer’soriginalplan.Letusimagine,foralittleminute,thatthereisnosnow,thatthetrainproceededonitsnormalcourse.What,then,wouldhavehappened?
“Themurder,letussay,wouldstillhavebeendiscoveredinallprobabilityattheItalianfrontierearlythismorning.MuchofthesameevidencewouldhavebeengiventotheItalianpolice.ThethreateningletterswouldhavebeenproducedbyM.MacQueen,M.Hardmanwouldhavetoldhisstory,Mrs.Hubbardwouldhavebeeneagertotellhowamanpassedthroughhercompartment,thebuttonwouldhavebeenfound.Iimaginethattwothingsonlywouldhavebeendifferent.ThemanwouldhavepassedthroughMrs.Hubbard’scompartmentjustbeforeoneo’clock—andtheWagonLituniformwouldhavebeenfoundcastoffinoneofthetoilets.”
“Youmean?”
“Imeanthatthemurderwasplannedtolooklikeanoutsidejob.TheassassinwouldhavebeenpresumedtohaveleftthetrainatBrod,wherethetrainistimedtoarriveat00:58.SomebodywouldprobablyhavepassedastrangeWagonLitconductorinthecorridor.Theuniformwouldbeleftinaconspicuousplacesoastoshowclearlyjusthowthetrickhadbeenplayed.Nosuspicionwouldhavebeenattachedtothepassengers.That,myfriends,washowtheaffairwasintendedtoappeartotheoutsideworld.
“Buttheaccidenttothetrainchangeseverything.Doubtlesswehaveherethereasonwhythemanremainedinthecompartmentwithhisvictimsolong.Hewaswaitingforthetraintogoon.Butatlastherealizedthatthetrainwasnotgoingon.Differentplanswouldhavetobemade.Themurdererwouldnowbeknowntobestillonthetrain.”
“Yes,yes,”saidM.Boucimpatiently.“Iseeallthat.Butwheredoesthehandkerchiefcomein?”
“Iamreturningtoitbyasomewhatcircuitousroute.Tobeginwith,youmustrealizethatthethreateningletterswereinthenatureofablind.TheymighthavebeenliftedbodilyoutofanindifferentlywrittenAmericancrimenovel.Theyarenotreal.Theyare,infact,simplyintendedforthepolice.Whatwehavetoaskourselvesis,‘DidtheydeceiveRatchett?’Onthefaceofit,theanswerseemstobe,‘No.’HisinstructionstoHardmanseemtopointtoadefinite‘private’enemyoftheidentityofwhomhewaswellaware.ThatisifweacceptHardman’sstoryastrue.ButRatchettcertainlyreceivedoneletterofaverydifferentcharacter—theonecontainingareferencetotheArmstrongbaby,afragmentofwhichwefoundinhiscompartment.IncaseRatchetthadnotrealizeditsooner,thiswastomakesurethatheunderstoodthereasonofthethreatsagainsthislife.Thatletter,asIhavesaidallalong,wasnotintendedtobefound.Themurderer’sfirstcarewastodestroyit.This,then,wasthesecondhitchinhisplans.Thefirstwasthesnow,thesecondwasourreconstructionofthatfragment.
“Thatnotebeingdestroyedsocarefullycanonlymeanonething.TheremustbeonthetrainsomeonesointimatelyconnectedwiththeArmstrongfamilythatthefindingofthatnotewouldimmediatelydirectsuspicionuponthatperson.
“Nowwecometotheothertwocluesthatwefound.Ipassoverthepipecleaner.Wehavealreadysaidagooddealaboutthat.Letuspassontothehandkerchief.Takenatitssimplest,itisacluewhichdirectlyincriminatessomeonewhoseinitialisH,anditwasdroppedthereunwittinglybythatperson.”
“Exactly,”saidDr.Constantine.“ShefindsoutthatshehasdroppedthehandkerchiefandimmediatelytakesstepstoconcealherChristianname.”
“Howfastyougo.YouarriveataconclusionmuchsoonerthanIwouldpermitmyselftodo.”
“Isthereanyotheralternative?”
“Certainlythereis.Suppose,forinstance,thatyouhavecommittedacrimeandwishtocastsuspicionforitonsomeoneelse.Well,thereisonthetrainacertainpersonconnectedintimatelywiththeArmstrongfamily—awoman.Suppose,then,thatyouleavethereahandkerchiefbelongingtothatwoman.Shewillbequestioned,herconnectionwiththeArmstrongfamilywillbebroughtout—etvoilà.Motive—andanincriminatingarticleofevidence.”
“Butinsuchacase,”objectedthedoctor,“thepersonindicatedbeinginnocent,wouldnottakestepstoconcealheridentity.”
“Ah,really?Thatiswhatyouthink?Thatistrulytheopinionofthepolicecourt.ButIknowhumannature,myfriend,andItellyouthat,suddenlyconfrontedwiththepossibilityofbeingtriedformurder,themostinnocentpersonwilllosetheirheadanddothemostabsurdthings.No,no,thegreasespotandthechangedlabeldonotproveguilt—theyonlyprovethattheCountessAndrenyiisanxiousforsomereasontoconcealheridentity.”
“WhatdoyouthinkherconnectionwiththeArmstrongfamilycanbe?ShehasneverbeeninAmerica,shesays.”
“Exactly,andshespeaksbrokenEnglish,andshehasaveryforeignappearancewhichsheexaggerates.Butitshouldnotbedifficulttoguesswhosheis.ImentionedjustnowthenameofMrs.Armstrong’smother.ItwasLindaArden,andshewasaverycelebratedactress—amongotherthingsaShakespeareanactress.ThinkofAsYouLikeIt—theForestofArdenandRosalind.Itwasthereshegottheinspirationforheractingname.LindaArden,thenamebywhichshewasknownallovertheworld,wasnotherrealname.ItmayhavebeenGoldenberg—shequitelikelyhadcentralEuropeanbloodinherveins—astrainofJewish,perhaps.ManynationalitiesdrifttoAmerica.Isuggesttoyou,gentlemen,thatthatyoungsisterofMrs.Armstrong’s,littlemorethanachildatthetimeofthetragedy,wasHelenaGoldenbergtheyoungerdaughterofLindaArden,andthatshemarriedCountAndrenyiwhenhewasanattachéinWashington.”
“ButPrincessDragomiroffsaysthatshemarriedanEnglishman.”
“Whosenameshecannotremember!Iaskyou,myfriends—isthatreallylikely?PrincessDragomirofflovedLindaArdenasgreatladiesdolovegreatartists.Shewasgodmothertooneofherdaughters.Wouldsheforgetsoquicklythemarriednameoftheotherdaughter?Itisnotlikely.No,IthinkwecansafelysaythatPrincessDragomiroffwaslying.SheknewHelenawasonthetrain,shehadseenher.Sherealizedatonce,assoonassheheardwhoRatchettreallywas,thatHelenawouldbesuspected.Andso,whenwequestionherastothesistershepromptlylies—isvague,cannotremember,but‘thinksHelenamarriedanEnglishman’—asuggestionasfarawayfromthetruthaspossible.”
Oneoftherestaurantattendantscamethroughthedoorattheendandapproachedthem.HeaddressedM.Bouc.
“Thedinner,Monsieur,shallIserveit?Itisreadysomelittletime.”
M.BouclookedatPoirot.Thelatternodded.
“Byallmeans,letdinnerbeserved.”
Theattendantvanishedthroughthedoorsattheotherend.Hisbellcouldbeheardringingandhisvoiceupraised:
“PremierService.Led?nerestservi.Premierd?ner—FirstService.”
Four
THEGREASESPOTONAHUNGARIANPASSPORT
PoirotsharedatablewithM.Boucandthedoctor.
Thecompanyassembledintherestaurantcarwasaverysubduedone.Theyspokelittle.EventheloquaciousMrs.Hubbardwasunnaturallyquiet.Shemurmuredasshesat:
“Idon’tfeelasthoughI’vegotthehearttoeatanything,”andthenpartookofeverythingofferedher,encouragedbytheSwedishlady,whoseemedtoregardherasaspecialcharge.
BeforethemealwasservedPoirothadcaughtthechiefattendantbythesleeveandmurmuredsomethingtohim.Constantinehadaprettygoodguesswhattheinstructionshadbeen,ashenoticedthattheCountandCountessAndrenyiwerealwaysservedlastandthatattheendofthemealtherewasadelayinmakingouttheirbill.ItthereforecameaboutthattheCountandCountesswerethelastleftintherestaurantcar.
Whentheyroseatlengthandmovedinthedirectionofthedoor,Poirotsprangupandfollowedthem.
“Pardon,Madame,youhavedroppedyourhandkerchief.”
Hewasholdingouttoherthetinymonogrammedsquare.
Shetookit,glancedatit,thenhandeditbacktohim.
“Youaremistaken,Monsieur,thatisnotmyhandkerchief.”
“Notyourhandkerchief?Areyousure?”
“Perfectlysure,Monsieur.”
“Andyet,Madame,ithasyourinitial—theinitialH.”
TheCountmadeasuddenmovement.Poirotignoredhim.HiseyeswerefixedontheCountess’sface.
Lookingsteadilyathimshereplied:
“Idonotunderstand,Monsieur.MyinitialsareE.A.”
“Ithinknot.YournameisHelena—notElena.HelenaGoldenberg,theyoungerdaughterofLindaArden—HelenaGoldenberg,thesisterofMrs.Armstrong.”
Therewasadeadsilenceforaminuteortwo.BoththeCountandCountesshadgonedeadlywhite.Poirotsaidinagentlertone:
“Itisofnousedenying.Thatisthetruth,isitnot?”
TheCountburstoutfuriously:
“Idemand,Monsieur,bywhatrightyou—”
Sheinterruptedhim,puttingupasmallhandtowardshismouth.
“No,Rudolph.Letmespeak.Itisuselesstodenywhatthisgentlemansays.Wehadbettersitdownandtalkthematterout.”
Hervoicehadchanged.Itstillhadthesouthernrichnessoftone,butithadbecomesuddenlymoreclearcutandincisive.Itwas,forthefirsttime,adefinitelyAmericanvoice.
TheCountwassilenced.HeobeyedthegestureofherhandtheybothsatdownoppositePoirot.
“Yourstatement,Monsieur,isquitetrue,”saidtheCountess.“IamHelenaGoldenberg,theyoungersisterofMrs.Armstrong.”
“Youdidnotacquaintmewiththatfactthismorning,MadamelaComtesse.”
“No.”
“Infact,allthatyourhusbandandyoutoldmewasatissueoflies.”
“Monsieur,”criedtheCountangrily.
“Donotbeangry,Rudolph.M.Poirotputsthefactratherbrutally,butwhathesaysisundeniable.”
“Iamgladyouadmitthefactsofreely,Madame.WillyounowtellmeyourreasonsforsodoingandalsoforalteringyourChristiannameonyourpassport.”
“Thatwasmydoingentirely,”putintheCount.
Helenasaidquietly:
“Surely,M.Poirot,youcanguessmyreason—ourreason.Thismanwhowaskilledisthemanwhomurderedmybabyniece,whokilledmysister,whobrokemybrother-in-law’sheart.ThreeofthepeopleIlovedbestandwhomadeupmyhome—myworld!”
Hervoicerangoutpassionately.Shewasatruedaughterofthatmother,theemotionalforceofwhoseactinghadmovedhugeaudiencestotears.
Shewentonmorequietly.
“Ofallthepeopleonthetrain,Ialonehadprobablythebestmotiveforkillinghim.”
“Andyoudidnotkillhim,Madame?”
“Isweartoyou,M.Poirot,andmyhusbandknowsandwillswearalso—that,muchasImayhavebeentemptedtodoso,Ineverliftedahandagainstthatman.”
“Itoo,gentlemen,”saidtheCount.“IgiveyoumywordofhonourthatlastnightHelenaneverlefthercompartment.ShetookasleepingdraughtexactlyasIsaid.Sheisutterlyandentirelyinnocent.”
Poirotlookedfromonetotheotherofthem.
“Onmywordofhonour,”repeatedtheCount.
Poirotshookhisheadslightly.
“Andyetyoutookituponyourselftoalterthenameinthepassport?”
“MonsieurPoirot,”theCountspokeearnestlyandpassionately.“Considermyposition.DoyouthinkIcouldstandthethoughtofmywifedraggedthroughasordidpolicecase.Shewasinnocent,Iknewit,butwhatshesaidwastrue—becauseofherconnectionwiththeArmstrongfamilyshewouldhavebeenimmediatelysuspected.Shewouldhavebeenquestioned—arrested,perhaps.SincesomeevilchancehadtakenusonthesametrainasthismanRatchett,therewas,Ifeltsure,butonethingforit.Iadmit,Monsieur,thatIliedtoyou—all,thatis,saveinonething.Mywifeneverlefthercompartmentlastnight.”
Hespokewithanearnestnessthatitwashardtogainsay.
“IdonotsaythatIdisbelieveyou,Monsieur,”saidPoirotslowly.“Yourfamilyis,Iknow,aproudandancientone.Itwouldbebitterindeedforyoutohaveyourwifedraggedintoanunpleasantpolicecase.WiththatIcansympathize.Buthow,then,doyouexplainthepresenceofyourwife’shandkerchiefactuallyinthedeadman’scompartment?”
“Thathandkerchiefisnotmine,Monsieur,”saidtheCountess.
“InspiteoftheinitialH?”
“Inspiteoftheinitial.Ihavehandkerchiefsnotunlikethat,butnotonethatisexactlyofthatpattern.Iknow,ofcoursethatIcannothopetomakeyoubelieveme,butIassureyouthatitisso.Thathandkerchiefisnotmine.”
“Itmayhavebeenplacedtherebysomeoneinordertoincriminateyou?”
Shesmiledalittle.
“Youareenticingmetoadmitthat,afterall,itismine?Butindeed,M.Poirot,itisn’t.”
Shespokewithgreatearnestness.
“Thenwhy,ifthehandkerchiefwasnotyours,didyoualterthenameinthepassport?”
TheCountansweredthis.
“BecauseweheardthatahandkerchiefhadbeenfoundwiththeinitialHonit.Wetalkedthematterovertogetherbeforewecametobeinterviewed.IpointedouttoHelenathatifitwereseenthatherChristiannamebeganwithanHshewouldimmediatelybesubjectedtomuchmorerigorousquestioning.Andthethingwassosimple—toalterHelenato
“Youhave,M.leComte,themakingsofaveryfinecriminal,”remarkedPoirotdryly.“Agreatnaturalingenuity,andanapparentlyremorselessdeterminationtomisleadjustice.”
“Oh,no,no,”thegirlleanedforward.“M.Poirot,he’sexplainedtoyouhowitwas.”ShebrokefromFrenchintoEnglish.“Iwasscared—absolutelydeadscared,youunderstand.Ithadbeensoawful—thattime—andtohaveitallrakedupagain.Andtobesuspectedandperhapsthrownintoprison.Iwasjustscaredstiff,M.Poirot.Can’tyouunderstandatall?”
Hervoicewaslovely—deep—rich—pleading,thevoiceofthedaughterofLindaArdentheactress.
Poirotlookedgravelyather.
“IfIamtobelieveyou,Madame—andIdonotsaythatIwillnotbelieveyou—thenyoumusthelpme.”
“Helpyou?”
“Yes.Thereasonforthemurderliesinthepast—inthattragedywhichbrokeupyourhomeandsaddenedyouryounglife.Takemebackintothepast,Mademoiselle,thatImayfindtherethelinkthatexplainsthewholething.”
“Whatcantherebetotellyou?Theyarealldead.”Sherepeatedmournfully.“Alldead—alldead—Robert,Sonia—darling,darlingDaisy.Shewassosweet—sohappy—shehadsuchlovelycurls.Wewerealljustcrazyabouther.”
“Therewasanothervictim,Madame.Anindirectvictim,youmightsay.”
“PoorSusanne?Yes,Ihadforgottenabouther.Thepolicequestionedher.Theywereconvincedshehadsomethingtodowithit.Perhapsshehad—butifso,onlyinnocently.Shehad,Ibelieve,chattedidlywithsomeone,givinginformationastothetimeofDaisy’soutings.Thepoorthinggotterriblywroughtup—shethoughtshewasbeingheldresponsible.”Sheshuddered.“Shethrewherselfoutofthewindow.Ohitwashorrible.”
Sheburiedherfaceinherhands.
“Whatnationalitywasshe,Madame?”
“ShewasFrench.”
“Whatwasherlastname?”
“It’sabsurd,butIcan’tremember—weallcalledherSusanne.Aprettylaughinggirl.ShewasdevotedtoDaisy.”
“Shewasthenurserymaid,wasshenot?”
“Yes.”
“Whowasthenurse?”
“Shewasatrainedhospitalnurse.Stengelberghernamewas.She,too,wasdevotedtoDaisy—andtomysister.”
“Now,Madame,Iwantyoutothinkcarefullybeforeyouanswerthisquestion.Haveyou,sinceyouwereonthistrain,seenanyonethatyourecognized?”
Shestaredathim.
“I?No,nooneatall.”
“WhataboutPrincessDragomiroff?”
“Oh,her?Iknowher,ofcourse.Ithoughtyoumeantanyone—anyonefrom—fromthattime.”
“SoIdid,Madame.Nowthinkcarefully.Someyearshavepassed,remember.Thepersonmighthavealteredtheirappearance.”
Helenapondereddeeply.Thenshesaid:
“No—Iamsure—thereisnoone.”
“Youyourself—youwereayounggirlatthetime—didyouhavenoonetosuperintendyourstudiesortolookafteryou?”
“Oh,yes,Ihadadragon—asortofgovernesstomeandsecretarytoSoniacombined.ShewasEnglishorratherScotch—abig,red-hairedwoman.”
“Whatwashername?”
“MissFreebody.”
“Youngorold?”
“Sheseemedfrightfullyoldtome.Isupposeshecouldn’thavebeenmorethanforty.Susanne,ofcourse,usedtolookaftermyclothesandmaidme.”
“Andtherewerenootherinmatesofthehouse?”
“Onlyservants.”
“Andyouarecertain—quitecertain,Madame—thatyouhaverecognizednooneonthetrain?”
Sherepliedearnestly:
“Noone,Monsieur.Nooneatall.”
Five
THECHRISTIANNAMEOFPRINCESSDRAGOMIROFF
WhentheCountandCountesshaddeparted,Poirotlookedacrossattheothertwo
“Yousee,”hesaid,“wemakeprogress.”
“Excellentwork,”saidM.Bouccordially.“Formypart,IshouldneverhavedreamedofsuspectingCountandCountessAndrenyi.IwilladmitIthoughtthemquitehorsdecombat.Isupposethereisnodoubtthatshecommittedthecrime?Itisrathersad.Still,theywillnotguillotineher.Thereareextenuatingcircumstances.Afewyears’imprisonment—thatwillbeall.”
“Infactyouarequitecertainofherguilt.”
“Mydearfriend,surelythereisnodoubtofit?Ithoughtyourreassuringmannerwasonlytosmooththingsovertillwearedugoutofthesnowandthepolicetakecharge.”
“YoudonotbelievetheCount’spositiveassertion—onhiswordofhonour—thathiswifeisinnocent?”
“Moncher—naturally—whatelsecouldhesay?Headoreshiswife.Hewantstosaveher!Hetellshislieverywell—quiteinthegrandSeigneurmanner,butwhatelsethanaliecoulditbe?”
“Well,youknow,Ihadthepreposterousideathatitmightbethetruth.”
“No,no.Thehandkerchief,remember.Thehandkerchiefclinchesthematter.”
“Oh,Iamnotsosureaboutthehandkerchief.Youremember,Ialwaystoldyouthatthereweretwopossibilitiesastotheownershipofthehandkerchief.”
“Allthesame—”
M.Boucbrokeoff.Thedoorattheendhadopened,andPrincessDragomiroffenteredthediningcar.Shecamestraighttothemandallthreemenrosetotheirfeet.
ShespoketoPoirot,ignoringtheothers.
“Ibelieve,Monsieur,”shesaid,“thatyouhaveahandkerchiefofmine.”
Poirotshotaglanceoftriumphattheothertwo.
“Isthisit,Madame?”
Heproducedthelittlesquareoffinecambric.
“Thatisit.Ithasmyinitialinthecorner.”
“But,MadamelaPrincesse,thatistheletterH,”saidM.Bouc.“YourChristianname—pardonme—isNatalia.”
Shegavehimacoldstare.
“Thatiscorrect,Monsieur.MyhandkerchiefsarealwaysinitialledintheRussiancharacters.HisNinRussian.”
M.Boucwassomewhattakenaback.Therewassomethingaboutthisindomitableoldladywhichmadehimfeelflusteredanduncomfortable.
“Youdidnottellusthatthishandkerchiefwasyoursattheinquirythismorning.”
“Youdidnotaskme,”saidthePrincessdryly.
“Praybeseated,Madame,”saidPoirot
Shesighed.
“Imayaswell,Isuppose.”
Shesatdown.
“Youneednotmakealongbusinessofthis,Messieurs.Yournextquestionwillbe—howdidmyhandkerchiefcometobelyingbyamurderedman’sbody?MyreplytothatisthatIhavenoidea.”
“Youhavereallynoidea.”
“Nonewhatever.”
“Youwillexcuseme,Madame,buthowmuchcanwerelyuponthetruthfulnessofyourreplies?”
Poirotsaidthewordsverysoftly.PrincessDragomiroffansweredcontemptuously.
“IsupposeyoumeanbecauseIdidnottellyouthatHelenaAndrenyiwasMrs.Armstrong’ssister?”
“Infactyoudeliberatelyliedtousinthematter.”
“Certainly.Iwoulddothesameagain.Hermotherwasmyfriend.Ibelieve,Messieurs,inloyalty—toone’sfriendsandone’sfamilyandone’scaste.”
“Youdonotbelieveindoingyourutmosttofurthertheendsofjustice?”
“InthiscaseIconsiderthatjustice—strictjustice—hasbeendone.”
Poirotleanedforward.
“Youseemydifficulty,Madame.Inthismatterofthehandkerchief,even,amItobelieveyou?Orareyoushieldingyourfriend’sdaughter?”
“Oh!Iseewhatyoumean.”Herfacebrokeintoagrimsmile.“Well,Messieurs,thisstatementofminecanbeeasilyproved.IwillgiveyoutheaddressofthepeopleinPariswhomakemyhandkerchiefs.Youhaveonlytoshowthemtheoneinquestionandtheywillinformyouthatitwasmadetomyorderoverayearago.Thehandkerchiefismine,Messieurs.”
Sherose.
“Haveyouanythingfurtheryouwishtoaskme?”
“Yourmaid,Madame,didsherecognizethishandkerchiefwhenweshowedittoherthismorning?”
“Shemusthavedoneso.Shesawitandsaidnothing?Ah,well,thatshowsthatshetoocanbeloyal.”
Withaslightinclinationofherheadshepassedoutofthediningcar.
“Sothatwasit,”murmuredPoirotsoftly.“InoticedjustatriflinghesitationwhenIaskedthemaidifsheknewtowhomthehandkerchiefbelonged.Shewasuncertainwhetherornottoadmitthatitwashermistress’s.Buthowdoesthatfitinwiththatstrangecentralideaofmine?Yes,itmightwellbe.”
“Ah!”saidM.Boucwithacharacteristicgesture—“sheisaterribleoldlady,that!”
“CouldshehavemurderedRatchett?”askedPoirotofthedoctor.
Heshookhishead.
“Thoseblows—theonesdeliveredwithgreatforcepenetratingthemuscle—never,nevercouldanyonewithsofrailaphysiqueinflictthem.”
“Butthefeeblerones?”
“Thefeeblerones,yes.”
“Iamthinking,”saidPoirot,“oftheincidentthismorningwhenIsaidtoherthatthestrengthwasinherwillratherthaninherarm.Itwasinthenatureofatrap,thatremark.Iwantedtoseeifshewouldlookdownatherrightorherleftarm.Shedidneither.Shelookedatthemboth.Butshemadeastrangereply.Shesaid,‘No,Ihavenostrengthinthese.Idonotknowwhethertobesorryorglad.’Acuriousremarkthat.Itconfirmsmeinmybeliefaboutthecrime.”
“Itdidnotsettlethepointabouttheleft-handedness.”
“No.Bytheway,didyounoticethatCountAndrenyikeepshishandkerchiefinhisright-handbreastpocket?”
M.Boucshookhishead.Hismindrevertedtotheastonishingrevelationsofthelasthalfhour.Hemurmured:
“Lies—andagainlies—itamazesme,theamountoflieswehadtoldtousthismorning.”
“Therearemorestilltodiscover,”saidPoirotcheerfully.
“Youthinkso?”
“Ishallbeverydisappointedifitisnotso.”
“Suchduplicityisterrible,”saidM.Bouc.“Butitseemstopleaseyou,”headdedreproachfully.
“Ithasthisadvantage,”saidPoirot.“Ifyouconfrontanyonewhohasliedwiththetruth,theyusuallyadmitit—oftenoutofsheersurprise.Itisonlynecessarytoguessrighttoproduceyoureffect.
“Thatistheonlywaytoconductthiscase.Iselecteachpassengerinturn,considertheirevidenceandsaytomyself,‘Ifsoandsoislying,onwhatpointaretheylyingandwhatisthereasonforthelie?’AndIansweriftheyarelying—if,youmark—itcouldonlybeforsuchareasonandonsuchapoint.WehavedonethatonceverysuccessfullywithCountessAndrenyi.Weshallnowproceedtotrythesamemethodonseveralotherpersons.”
“Andsupposing,myfriend,thatyourguesshappenstobewrong?”
“Thenoneperson,atanyrate,willbecompletelyfreedfromsuspicion.”
“Ah!Aprocessofelimination.”
“Exactly.”
“Andwhodowetacklenext?”
“Wearegoingtotacklethatpukkasahib,ColonelArbuthnot.”
Six
ASECONDINTERVIEWWITHCOLONELARBUTHNOT
ColonelArbuthnotwasclearlyannoyedatbeingsummonedtothediningcarforasecondinterview.Hisfaceworeamostforbiddingexpressionashesatdownandsaid:
“Well?”
“Allmyapologiesfortroublingyouasecondtime,”saidPoirot.“ButthereisstillsomeinformationthatIthinkyoumightbeabletogiveus.”
“Indeed?Ihardlythinkso.”
“Tobeginwith,youseethispipecleaner?”
“Yes.”
“Isitoneofyours?”
“Don’tknow.Idon’tputaprivatemarkonthem,youknow.”
“Areyouaware,ColonelArbuthnot,thatyouaretheonlymanamongstthepassengersintheStamboul-Calaiscarriagewhosmokesapipe?”
“Inthatcaseitprobablyisoneofmine.”
“Doyouknowwhereitwasfound?”
“Nottheleastidea.”
“Itwasfoundbythebodyofthemurderedman.”
ColonelArbuthnotraisedhiseyebrows.
“Canyoutellus,ColonelArbuthnot,howitislikelytohavegotthere?”
“IfyoumeandidIdropittheremyself,no,Ididn’t.”
“DidyougointoMr.Ratchett’scompartmentatanytime?”
“Ineverevenspoketotheman.”
“Youneverspoketohimandyoudidnotmurderhim?”
TheColonel’seyebrowswentupagainsardonically.
“IfIhad,Ishouldhardlybelikelytoacquaintyouwiththefact.AsamatteroffactIdidn’tmurderthefellow.”
“Ah,well,”murmuredPoirot.“Itisofnoconsequence.”
“Ibegyourpardon?”
“Isaidthatitwasofnoconsequence.”
“Oh!”Arbuthnotlookedtakenaback.HeeyedPoirotuneasily.
“Because,yousee,”continuedthelittleman,“thepipecleaner,itisofnoimportance.Icanmyselfthinkofelevenotherexcellentexplanationsofitspresence.”
Arbuthnotstaredathim.
“WhatIreallywishedtoseeyouaboutwasquiteanothermatter,”wentonPoirot.“MissDebenhammayhavetoldyou,perhaps,thatIoverheardsomewordsspokentoyouatthestationofKonya?”
Arbuthnotdidnotreply.
“Shesaid,‘Notnow.Whenit’sallover.Whenit’sbehindus.’Doyouknowtowhatthosewordsreferred?”
“Iamsorry,M.Poirot,butImustrefusetoanswerthatquestion.”
“Pourquoi?”
TheColonelsaidstiffly:
“IsuggestthatyoushouldaskMissDebenhamherselfforthemeaningofthosewords.”
“Ihavedoneso.”
“Andsherefusedtotellyou?”
“Yes.”
“ThenIshouldthinkitwouldhavebeenperfectlyplain—eventoyou—thatmylipsaresealed.”
“Youwillnotgiveawayalady’ssecret?”
“Youcanputitthatway,ifyoulike.”
“MissDebenhamtoldmethattheyreferredtoaprivatematterofherown.”
“Thenwhynotacceptherwordforit?”
“Because,ColonelArbuthnot,MissDebenhamiswhatonemightcallahighlysuspiciouscharacter.”
“Nonsense,”saidtheColonelwithwarmth.
“Itisnotnonsense.”
“Youhavenothingwhateveragainsther.”
“NotthefactthatMissDebenhamwascompaniongovernessintheArmstronghouseholdatthetimeofthekidnappingoflittleDaisyArmstrong?”
Therewasaminute’sdeadsilence.
Poirotnoddedhisheadgently.
“Yousee,”hesaid,“weknowmorethanyouthink.IfMissDebenhamisinnocent,whydidsheconcealthatfact?WhydidshetellmethatshehadneverbeeninAmerica?”
TheColonelclearedhisthroat.
“Aren’tyoupossiblymakingamistake?”
“Iammakingnomistake.WhydidMissDebenhamlietome?”
ColonelArbuthnotshruggedhisshoulders.
“Youhadbetteraskher.Istillthinkthatyouarewrong.”
Poirotraisedhisvoiceandcalled.Oneoftherestaurantattendantscamefromthefarendofthecar.
“GoandasktheEnglishladyinNo.11ifshewillbegoodenoughtocomehere.”
“Bien,Monsieur.”
Themandeparted.Thefourmensatinsilence.ColonelArbuthnot’sfacelookedasthoughitwerecarvedoutofwood,itwasrigidandimpassive.
Themanreturned.
“Thankyou.”
AminuteortwolaterMaryDebenhamenteredthediningcar.
Seven
THEIDENTITYOFMARYDEBENHAM
Sheworenohat.Herheadwasthrownbackasthoughindefiance.Thesweepofherhairbackfromherface,thecurveofhernostrilsuggestedthefigureheadofashipplunginggallantlyintoaroughsea.Inthatmomentshewasbeautiful.
HereyeswenttoArbuthnotforaminute—justaminute.
ShesaidtoPoirot?
“Youwishedtoseeme?”
“Iwishedtoaskyou,Mademoiselle,whyyouliedtousthismorning?”
“Liedtoyou?Idon’tknowwhatyoumean.”
“YouconcealedthefactthatatthetimeoftheArmstrongtragedyyouwereactuallylivinginthehouse.YoutoldmethatyouhadneverbeeninAmerica.”
Hesawherflinchforamomentandthenrecoverherself.
“Yes,”shesaid.“Thatistrue.”
“No,Mademoiselle,itwasfalse.”
“Youmisunderstoodme.ImeanthatitistruethatIliedtoyou.”
“Ah,youadmitit?”
Herlipscurvedintoasmile.
“Certainly.Sinceyouhavefoundmeout.”
“Youareatleastfrank,Mademoiselle.”
“Theredoesnotseemanythingelseformetobe.”
“Well,ofcourse,thatistrue.Andnow,Mademoiselle,mayIaskyouthereasonfortheseevasions?”
“Ishouldhavethoughtthereasonleapttotheeye,M.Poirot?”
“Itdoesnotleaptomine,Mademoiselle.”
Shesaidinaquiet,evenvoicewithatraceofhardnessinit:
“Ihavemylivingtoget.”
“Youmean—?”
Sheraisedhereyesandlookedhimfullintheface.
“Howmuchdoyouknow,M.Poirot,ofthefighttogetandkeepdecentemployment?Doyouthinkthatagirlwhohadbeendetainedinconnectionwithamurdercase,whosenameandperhapsphotographswerereproducedintheEnglishpapers—doyouthinkthatanyniceordinarymiddle-classEnglishwomanwouldwanttoengagethatgirlasgovernesstoherdaughters?”
“Idonotseewhynot—ifnoblameattachedtoyou.”
“Oh,blame—itisnotblame—itispublicity!Sofar,M.Poirot,Ihavesucceededinlife.Ihavehadwell-paid,pleasantposts.IwasnotgoingtoriskthepositionIhadattainedwhennogoodendcouldhavebeenserved.”
“Iwillventuretosuggest,Mademoiselle,thatIwouldhavebeenthebestjudgeofthat,notyou.”
Sheshruggedhershoulders.
“Forinstance,youcouldhavehelpedmeinthematterofidentification.”
“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Isitpossible,Mademoiselle,thatyoudidnotrecognizeintheCountessAndrenyiMrs.Armstrong’syoungsisterwhomyoutaughtinNewYork?”
“CountessAndrenyi?No.”Sheshookherhead.“Itmayseemextraordinarytoyou,butIdidnotrecognizeher.Shewasnotgrownup,yousee,whenIknewher.Thatwasoverthreeyearsago.ItistruethattheCountessremindedmeofsomeone—itpuzzledme.Butshelookssoforeign—IneverconnectedherwiththelittleAmericanschoolgirl.ItistruethatIonlyglancedathercasuallywhencomingintotherestaurantcar.Inoticedherclothesmorethanherface—”shesmiledfaintly—“womendo!Andthen—well,Ihadmyownpreoccupations.”
“Youwillnottellmeyoursecret,Mademoiselle?”
Poirot’svoicewasverygentleandpersuasive.
Shesaidinalowvoice:
“Ican’t—Ican’t.”
Andsuddenly,withoutwarningshebrokedown,droppingherfacedownuponheroutstretchedarmsandcryingasthoughherheartwouldbreak.
TheColonelsprangupandstoodawkwardlybesideher.
“I—lookhere—”
Hestoppedand,turninground,scowledfiercelyatPoirot.
“I’llbreakeveryboneinyourdamnedbody,youdirtylittlewhippersnapper,”hesaid.
“Monsieur,”protestedM.Bouc.
Arbuthnothadturnedbacktothegirl.
“Mary—forGod’ssake—”
Shesprangup.
“It’snothing.I’mallright.Youdon’tneedmeanymore,doyou,M.Poirot?Ifyoudo,youmustcomeandfindme.Oh,whatanidiot—whatanidiotI’mmakingofmyself!”
Shehurriedoutofthecar.Arbuthnot,beforefollowingher,turnedoncemoreonPoirot.
“MissDebenham’sgotnothingtodowiththisbusiness—nothing,doyouhear?Andifshe’sworriedandinterferedwith,you’llhavemetodealwith.”
Hestrodeout.
“IliketoseeanangryEnglishman,”saidPoirot.“Theyareveryamusing.Themoreemotionaltheyfeelthelesscommandtheyhaveoflanguage.”
ButM.BoucwasnotinterestedintheemotionalreactionsofEnglishmen.Hewasovercomebyadmirationofhisfriend.
“Moncher,vousêtesépatant,”hecried.“Anothermiraculousguess.C’estformidable.”
“Itisincrediblehowyouthinkofthesethings,”saidDr.Constantineadmiringly.
“Oh,Iclaimnocreditthistime.Itwasnotaguess.CountessAndrenyipracticallytoldme.”
“Comment?Surelynot?”
“YourememberIaskedherabouthergovernessorcompanion?IhadalreadydecidedinmymindthatifMaryDebenhamweremixedupinthematter,shemusthavefiguredinthehouseholdinsomesuchcapacity.”
“Yes,buttheCountessAndrenyidescribedatotallydifferentperson.”
“Exactly.Atall,middle-agedwomanwithredhair—infact,theexactoppositeineveryrespectofMissDebenham,somuchsoastobequiteremarkable.Butthenshehadtoinventanamequickly,andthereitwasthattheunconsciousassociationofideasgaveheraway.ShesaidMissFreebody,youremember.”
“Yes?”
“Ehbien,youmaynotknowit,butthereisashopinLondonthatwascalled,untilrecently,Debenham&Freebody.WiththenameDebenhamrunninginherhead,theCountessclutchesatanothernamequickly,andthefirstthatcomesisFreebody.NaturallyIunderstoodimmediately.”
“Thatisyetanotherlie.Whydidshedoit?”
“Possiblymoreloyalty.Itmakesthingsalittledifficult.”
“Mafoi,”saidM.Boucwithviolence.“Butdoeseverybodyonthistraintelllies?”
“That,”saidPoirot,“iswhatweareabouttofindout.”
Eight
FURTHERSURPRISINGREVELATIONS
“Nothingwouldsurprisemenow,”saidM.Bouc.“Nothing!EvenifeverybodyinthetrainprovedtohavebeenintheArmstronghouseholdIshouldnotexpresssurprise.”
“Thatisaveryprofoundremark,”saidPoirot.“Wouldyouliketoseewhatyourfavouritesuspect,theItalian,hastosayforhimself?”
“Youaregoingtomakeanotherofthesefamousguessesofyours?”
“Precisely.”
“Itisreallyamostextraordinarycase,”saidConstantine.
“No,itismostnatural.”M.Boucflunguphisarmsincomicdespair.
“Ifthisiswhatyoucallnatural,momami—”
Wordsfailedhim.
PoirothadbythistimerequestedthediningcarattendanttofetchAntonioFoscarelli.
ThebigItalianhadawarylookinhiseyeashecamein.Heshotnervousglancesfromsidetosidelikeatrappedanimal.
“Whatdoyouwant?”hesaid.“Ihavenothingtotellyou—nothing,doyouhear!PerDio—”Hestruckhishandonthetable.
“Yes,youhavesomethingmoretotellus,”saidPoirotfirmly.“Thetruth!”
“Thetruth?”HeshotanuneasyglanceatPoirot.Alltheassuranceandgenialityhadgoneoutofhismanner.
“Maisoui.ItmaybethatIknowitalready.Butitwillbeapointinyourfavourifitcomesfromyouspontaneously.”
“YoutalkliketheAmericanpolice.‘Comeclean,’thatiswhattheysay—‘comeclean.’”
“Ah!soyouhavehadexperienceoftheNewYorkpolice?”
“No,no,never.Theycouldnotproveathingagainstme—butitwasnotforwantoftrying.”
Poirotsaidquietly:
“ThatwasintheArmstrongcase,wasitnot?Youwerethechauffeur?”
HiseyesmetthoseoftheItalian.Theblusterwentoutofthebigman.Hewaslikeaprickedballoon.
“Sinceyouknow—whyaskme?”
“Whydidyouliethismorning?”
“Businessreasons.Besides,IdonottrusttheYugo-Slavpolice.TheyhatetheItalians.Theywouldnothavegivenmejustice.”
“Perhapsitisexactlyjusticethattheywouldhavegivenyou!”
“No,no,Ihadnothingtodowiththisbusinesslastnight.Ineverleftmycarriage.Thelong-facedEnglishman,hecantellyouso.ItwasnotIwhokilledthispig—thisRatchett.Youcannotproveanythingagainstme.”
Poirotwaswritingsomethingonasheetofpaper.Helookedupandsaidquietly:
“Verygood.Youcango.”
Foscarellilingereduneasily.
“YourealizethatitwasnotI—thatIcouldhavehadnothingtodowithit?”
“Isaidthatyoucouldgo.”
“Itisaconspiracy.Youaregoingtoframeme?Allforapigofamanwhoshouldhavegonetothechair!Itwasaninfamythathedidnot.Ifithadbeenme—ifIhadbeenarrested—”
“Butitwasnotyou.Youhadnothingtodowiththekidnappingofthechild.”
“Whatisthatyouaresaying?Why,thatlittleone—shewasthedelightofthehouse.Tonio,shecalledme.Andshewouldsitinthecarandpretendtoholdthewheel.Allthehouseholdworshippedher!Eventhepolicecametounderstandthat.Ah,thebeautifullittleone.”
Hisvoicehadsoftened.Thetearscameintohiseyes.Thenhewheeledroundabruptlyonhisheelandstrodeoutofthediningcar.
“Pietro,”calledPoirot.
Thediningcarattendantcameatarun.
“TheNo.10—theSwedishlady.”
“Bien,Monsieur.”
“Another?”criedM.Bouc.“Ah,no—itisnotpossible.Itellyouitisnotpossible.”
“Moncher,wehavetoknow.EvenifintheendeverybodyonthetrainprovestohaveamotiveforkillingRatchett,wehavetoknow.Onceweknow,wecansettleonceforallwheretheguiltlies.”
“Myheadisspinning,”groanedM.Bouc.
GretaOhlssonwasusheredinsympatheticallybytheattendant.Shewasweepingbitterly.
ShecollapsedontheseatfacingPoirotandweptsteadilyintoalargehandkerchief.
“Nowdonotdistressyourself,Mademoiselle.Donotdistressyourself.”Poirotpattedherontheshoulder.“Justafewlittlewordsoftruth,thatisall.YouwerethenursewhowasinchargeoflittleDaisyArmstrong?”
“Itistrue—itistrue,”weptthewretchedwoman.“Ah,shewasanangel—alittlesweet,trustfulangel.Sheknewnothingbutkindnessandlove—andshewastakenawaybythatwickedman—cruellytreated—andherpoormother—andtheotherlittleonewhoneverlivedatall.Youcannotunderstand—youcannotknow—ifyouhadbeenthereasIwas—ifyouhadseenthewholeterribletragedy—Ioughttohavetoldyouthetruthaboutmyselfthismorning.ButIwasafraid—afraid.Ididsorejoicethatthatevilmanwasdead—thathecouldnotanymorekillortorturelittlechildren.Ah!Icannotspeak—Ihavenowords….”
Sheweptwithmorevehemencethanever.
Poirotcontinuedtopathergentlyontheshoulder.
“There—there—Icomprehend—Icomprehendeverything—everything,Itellyou.Iwillaskyounomorequestions.ItisenoughthatyouhaveadmittedwhatIknowtobethetruth.Iunderstand,Itellyou.”
Bynowinarticulatewithsobs,GretaOhlssonroseandgropedherwayblindlytowardsthedoor.Asshereacheditshecollidedwithamancomingin.
Itwasthevalet—Masterman.
HecamestraightuptoPoirotandspokeinhisusual,quiet,unemotionalvoice
“IhopeI’mnotintruding,sir.Ithoughtitbesttocomealongatonce,sir,andtellyouthetruth.IwasColonelArmstrong’sbatmaninthewar,sir,andafterwardsIwashisvaletinNewYork.I’mafraidIconcealedthatfactthismorning.Itwasverywrongofme,sir,andIthoughtI’dbettercomeandmakeacleanbreastofit.ButIhope,sir,thatyou’renotsuspectingTonioinanyway.OldTonio,sir,wouldn’thurtafly.AndIcanswearpositivelythatheneverleftthecarriagealllastnight.So,yousee,sir,hecouldn’thavedoneit.Toniomaybeaforeigner,sir,buthe’saverygentlecreature—notlikethosenastymurderingItaliansonereadsabout.”
Hestopped.
Poirotlookedsteadilyathim.
“Isthatallyouhavetosay?”
“Thatisall,sir.”
Hepaused,then,asPoirotdidnotspeak,hemadeanapologeticlittlebow,andafteramomentaryhesitationleftthediningcarinthesamequiet,unobtrusivefashionashehadcome.
“This,”saidDr.Constantine,“ismorewildlyimprobablethananyromanpolicierIhaveeverread.”
“Iagree,”saidM.Bouc.“Ofthetwelvepassengersinthatcoach,ninehavebeenprovedtohavehadaconnectionwiththeArmstrongcase.Whatnext,Iaskyou?Or,shouldIsay,whonext?”
“Icanalmostgiveyoutheanswertoyourquestion,”saidPoirot.“HerecomesourAmericansleuth,M.Hardman.”
“Ishe,too,comingtoconfess?”
BeforePoirotcouldreply,theAmericanhadreachedtheirtable.Hecockedanalerteyeatthemand,sittingdown,hedrawledout:
“Justexactlywhat’suponthistrain?Itseemsbughousetome.”
Poirottwinkledathim:
“Areyouquitesure,Mr.Hardman,thatyouyourselfwerenotthegardenerattheArmstronghome?”
“Theydidn’thaveagarden,”repliedMr.Hardmanliterally.
“Orthebutler?”
“Haven’tgotthefancymannerforaplacelikethat.No,IneverhadanyconnectionwiththeArmstronghouse—butI’mbeginningtobelieveI’mabouttheonlyoneonthistrainwhohadn’t!Canyoubeatit—that’swhatIsay?Canyoubeatit?”
“Itiscertainlyalittlesurprising,”saidPoirotmildly.
“C’estrigolo,”burstfromM.Bouc.
“Haveyouanyideasofyourownaboutthecrime,M.Hardman?”inquiredPoirot.
“No,sir.It’sgotmebeat.Idon’tknowhowtofigureitout.Theycan’tallbeinit;butwhichoneistheguiltypartyisbeyondme.Howdidyougetwisetoallthis,that’swhatIwanttoknow?”
“Ijustguessed.”
“Then,believeme,you’reaprettyslickguesser.Yes,I’lltelltheworldyou’reaslickguesser.”
Mr.HardmanleanedbackandlookedatPoirotadmiringly.
“You’llexcuseme,”hesaid,“butnoonewouldbelieveittolookatyou.Itakeoffmyhattoyou.Ido,indeed.”
“Youaretookind,M.Hardman.”
“Notatall.I’vegottohandittoyou.”
“Allthesame,”saidPoirot,“theproblemisnotyetquitesolved.CanwesaywithauthoritythatweknowwhokilledM.Ratchett?”
“Countmeout,”saidMr.Hardman.“I’mnotsayinganythingatall.I’mjustfullofnaturaladmiration.Whatabouttheothertwoyou’venothadaguessatyet?TheoldAmericandameandthelady’smaid?Isupposewecantakeitthatthey’retheonlyinnocentpartiesonthetrain?”
“Unless,”saidPoirot,smiling,“wecanfitthemintoourlittlecollectionas—shallwesay?—housekeeperandcookintheArmstronghousehold.”
“Well,nothingintheworldwouldsurprisemenow,”saidMr.Hardmanwithquietresignation.“Bughouse—that’swhatthisbusinessis—bughouse!”
“Ah,moncher,thatwouldbeindeedstretchingcoincidencealittletoofar,”saidM.Bouc.“Theycannotallbeinit.”
Poirotlookedathim.
“Youdonotunderstand,”hesaid.“Youdonotunderstandatall.Tellme,”hesaid,“doyouknowwhokilledRatchett?”
“Doyou?”counteredM.Bouc.
Poirotnodded.
“Oh,yes,”hesaid.“Ihaveknownforsometime.ItissoclearthatIwonderyouhavenotseenitalso.”HelookedatHardmanandasked,“Andyou?”
Thedetectiveshookhishead.HestaredatPoirotcuriously.
“Idon’tknow,”hesaid.“Idon’tknowatall.Whichofthemwasit?”
Poirotwassilentaminute.Thenhesaid:
“Ifyouwillbesogood,M.Hardman,assembleeveryonehere.Therearetwopossiblesolutionsofthiscase.Iwanttolaythembothbeforeyouall.”
Nine
POIROTPROPOUNDSTWOSOLUTIONS
Thepassengerscamecrowdingintotherestaurantcarandtooktheirseatsroundthetables.Theyallboremoreorlessthesameexpression,oneofexpectancymingledwithapprehension.TheSwedishladywasstillweepingandMrs.Hubbardwascomfortingher.
“Nowyoumustjusttakeaholdonyourself,mydear.Everything’sgoingtobeperfectlyallright.Youmustn’tloseyourgriponyourself.Ifoneofusisanastymurdererweknowquitewellitisn’tyou.Why,anyonewouldbecrazyeventothinkofsuchathing.YousithereandI’llstayrightbyyou;anddon’tyouworryany.”
HervoicediedawayasPoirotstoodup.
TheWagonLitconductorwashoveringinthedoorway.
“YoupermitthatIstay,Monsieur?”
“Certainly,Michel.”
Poirotclearedhisthroat.
“MessieursetMesdames,IwillspeakinEnglish,sinceIthinkallofyouknowalittleofthatlanguage.WeareheretoinvestigatethedeathofSamuelEdwardRatchett—aliasCassetti.Therearetwopossiblesolutionsofthecrime.Ishallputthembothbeforeyou,andIshallaskM.BoucandDr.Constantineheretojudgewhichsolutionistherightone.
“Nowyouallknowthefactsofthecase.Mr.Ratchettwasfoundstabbedthismorning.Hewaslastknowntobealiveat12:37lastnight,whenhespoketotheWagonLitconductorthroughthedoor.Awatchinhispyjamapocketwasfoundtobebadlydentedandithadstoppedataquarterpastone.Dr.Constantine,whoexaminedthebodywhenfound,putsthetimeofdeathashavingoccurredbetweenmidnightandtwointhemorning.Athalfanhouraftermidnight,asyouallknow,thetrainranintoasnowdrift.Afterthattimeitwasimpossibleforanyonetoleavethetrain.
“TheevidenceofMr.Hardman,whoisamemberofaNewYorkDetectiveAgency”(severalheadsturnedtolookatMr.Hardman)“showsthatnoonecouldhavepassedhiscompartment(No.16attheextremeend)withoutbeingseenbyhim.Wearethereforeforcedtotheconclusionthatthemurdereristobefoundamongtheoccupantsofoneparticularcoach—theStamboul-Calaiscoach.
“That,Iwillsay,wasourtheory.”
“Comment?”ejaculatedM.Bouc,startled.
“ButIwillputbeforeyouanalternativetheory.Itisverysimple.Mr.Ratchetthadacertainenemywhomhefeared.HegaveMr.Hardmanadescriptionofthisenemyandtoldhimthattheattempt,ifmadeatall,wouldmostprobablybemadeonthesecondnightoutfromStamboul.”
“NowIputittoyou,ladiesandgentlemen,thatMr.Ratchettknewagooddealmorethanhetold.TheenemyasMr.Ratchettexpected,joinedthetrainatBelgrade,orpossiblyatVincouci,bythedoorleftopenbyColonelArbuthnotandMr.MacQueenwhohadjustdescendedtotheplatform.HewasprovidedwithasuitofWagonLituniform,whichheworeoverhisordinaryclothes,andapasskeywhichenabledhimtogainaccesstoMr.Ratchett’scompartmentinspiteofthedoorbeinglocked.Mr.Ratchettwasundertheinfluenceofasleepingdraught.ThismanstabbedhimwithgreatferocityandleftthecompartmentthroughthecommunicatingdoorleadingtoMrs.Hubbard’scompartment—”
“That’sso,”saidMrs.Hubbard,noddingherhead.
“HethrustthedaggerhehadusedintoMrs.Hubbard’sspongebaginpassing.Withoutknowingit,helostabuttonofhisuniform.Thenheslippedoutofthecompartmentandalongthecorridor.Hehastilythrusttheuniformintoasuitcaseinanemptycompartment,andafewminuteslater,dressedinordinaryclothes,heleftthetrainjustbeforeitstartedoff.Againusingthesamemeansofegress—thedoornearthediningcar.”
Everybodygasped.
“Whataboutthatwatch?”demandedMr.Hardman.
“Thereyouhavetheexplanationofthewholething.Mr.RatchetthadommittedtoputhiswatchbackanhourasheshouldhavedoneatTzaribrod.HiswatchstillregisteredEasternEuropeantime,whichisonehouraheadofCentralEuropeantime.ItwasaquarterpasttwelvewhenMr.Ratchettwasstabbed—notaquarterpastone.”
“Butitisabsurd,thatexplanation,”criedM.Bouc.“Whatofthevoicethatspokefromthecompartmentattwenty-threeminutestoone.ItwaseitherthevoiceofRatchett—orelseofhismurderer.”
“Notnecessarily.Itmighthavebeen—well—athirdperson.OnewhohadgoneintospeaktoRatchettandfoundhimdead.Herangthebelltosummontheconductor,then,asyouexpressit,thewindroseinhim—hewasafraidofbeingaccusedofthecrimeandhespokepretendingtobeRatchett.”
“C’estpossible,”admittedM.Boucgrudgingly.
PoirotlookedatMrs.Hubbard.
“Yes,Madame,youweregoingtosay—?”
“Well,Idon’tquiteknowwhatIwasgoingtosay.DoyouthinkIforgottoputmywatchbacktoo?”
“No,Madame.Ithinkyouheardthemanpassthrough—butunconsciously;lateryouhadanightmareofamanbeinginyourcompartmentandwokeupwithastartandrangfortheconductor.”
“Well,Isupposethat’spossible,”admittedMrs.Hubbard.
PrincessDragomiroffwaslookingatPoirotwithaverydirectglance.
“Howdoyouexplaintheevidenceofmymaid,Monsieur?”
“Verysimply,Madame.YourmaidrecognizedthehandkerchiefIshowedherasyours.Shesomewhatclumsilytriedtoshieldyou.Shedidencountertheman—butearlier—whilethetrainwasatVincovcistation.Shepretendedtohaveseenhimatalaterhourwithaconfusedideaofgivingyouawatertightalibi.”
ThePrincessbowedherhead.
“Youhavethoughtofeverything,Monsieur.I—Iadmireyou.”
Therewasasilence.
TheneveryonejumpedasDr.Constantinesuddenlyhitthetableablowwithhisfist.
“Butno,”hesaid.“No,no,andagainno!Thatisanexplanationthatwillnotholdwater.Itisdeficientinadozenminorpoints.Thecrimewasnotcommittedso—M.Poirotmustknowthatperfectlywell.”
Poirotturnedacuriousglanceonhim.
“Isee,”hesaid,“thatIshallhavetogivemysecondsolution.Butdonotabandonthisonetooabruptly.Youmayagreewithitlater.”
Heturnedbackagaintofacetheothers
“Thereisanotherpossiblesolutionofthecrime.ThisishowIarrivedatit
“WhenIhadheardalltheevidence,Ileanedbackandshutmyeyesandbegantothink.Certainpointspresentedthemselvestomeasworthyofattention.Ienumeratedthesepointstomytwocolleagues.SomeIhavealreadyelucidated—suchasagreasespotonapassport,etc.Iwillrunoverthepointsthatremain.ThefirstandmostimportantisaremarkmadetomebyM.BoucintherestaurantcaratlunchonthefirstdayafterleavingStamboul—totheeffectthatthecompanyassembledwasinterestingbecauseitwassovaried—representingasitdidallclassesandnationalities.
“Iagreedwithhim,butwhenthisparticularpointcameintomymind,Itriedtoimaginewhethersuchanassemblywereeverlikelytobecollectedunderanyotherconditions.AndtheanswerImadetomyselfwas—onlyinAmerica.InAmericatheremightbeahouseholdcomposedofjustsuchvariednationalities—anItalianchauffeur,andEnglishgoverness,aSwedishnurse,aFrenchlady’smaidandsoon.Thatledmetomyschemeof‘guessing’—thatis,castingeachpersonforacertainpartintheArmstrongdramamuchasaproducercastsaplay.Well,thatgavemeanextremelyinterestingandsatisfactoryresult.
“Ihadalsoexaminedinmyownmindeachseparateperson’sevidencewithsomecuriousresults.TakefirsttheevidenceofMr.MacQueen.Myfirstinterviewwithhimwasentirelysatisfactory.Butinmysecondhemaderatheracuriousremark.IhaddescribedtohimthefindingofanotementioningtheArmstrongcase.Hesaid,‘Butsurely—’andthenpausedandwenton,‘Imean—thatwasrathercarelessoftheoldman.’
“NowIcouldfeelthatthatwasnotwhathehadstartedouttosay.Supposingwhathehadmeanttosaywas,‘Butsurelythatwasburnt!’Inwhichcase,MacQueenknewofthenoteandofitsdestruction—inotherwords,hewaseitherthemurdereroranaccompliceofthemurderer.Verygood.
“Thenthevalet.Hesaidhismasterwasinthehabitoftakingasleepingdraughtwhentravellingbytrain.Thatmightbetrue,butwouldRatchetthavetakenonelastnight?Theautomaticunderhispillowgavethelietothatstatement.Ratchettintendedtobeonthealertlastnight.Whatevernarcoticwasadministeredtohimmusthavebeendonesowithouthisknowledge.Bywhom?ObviouslybyMacQueenorthevalet.
“NowwecometotheevidenceofMr.Hardman.Ibelievedallthathetoldmeabouthisownidentity,butwhenitcametotheactualmethodshehademployedtoguardMr.Ratchett,hisstorywasneithermorenorlessthanabsurd.TheonlywayeffectivelytohaveprotectedRatchettwastohavepassedthenightactuallyinhiscompartmentorinsomespotwherehecouldwatchthedoor.TheonlythingthathisevidencedidshowplainlywasthatnooneinanyotherpartofthetraincouldpossiblyhavemurderedRatchett.ItdrewaclearcircleroundtheStamboul-Calaiscarriage.Thatseemedtomearathercuriousandinexplicablefact,andIputitasidetothinkover.
“YouprobablyhaveallheardbynowofthefewwordsIoverheardbetweenMissDebenhamandColonelArbuthnot.TheinterestingthingtomymindwasthefactthatColonelArbuthnotcalledherMaryandwasclearlyontermsofintimacywithher.ButtheColonelwasonlysupposedtohavemetherafewdayspreviously—andIknowEnglishmenoftheColonel’stype.Evenifhehadfalleninlovewiththeyoungladyatfirstsight,hewouldhaveadvancedslowlyandwithdecorum—notrushingthings.ThereforeIconcludedthatColonelArbuthnotandMissDebenhamwereinrealitywellacquainted,andwereforsomereasonpretendingtobestrangers.AnothersmallpointwasMissDebenham’seasyfamiliaritywiththeterm‘longdistance’foratelephonecall.YetMissDebenhamhadtoldmethatshehadneverbeenintheStates.
“Topasstoanotherwitness.Mrs.Hubbardhadtoldusthatlyinginbedshewasunabletoseewhetherthecommunicatingdoorwasboltedornot,andsoaskedMissOhlssontoseeforher.Now,thoughherstatementwouldhavebeenperfectlytrueifshehadbeenoccupyingcompartmentsNos.2,4,12,oranyevennumber—wheretheboltisdirectlyunderthehandleofthedoor—intheunevennumbers,suchascompartmentNo.3,theboltiswellabovethehandleandcouldnotthereforebemaskedbythespongebagintheleast.IwasforcedtotheconclusionthatMrs.Hubbardwasinventinganincidentthathadneveroccurred.
“Andhereletmesayjustawordortwoabouttimes.Tomymind,thereallyinterestingpointaboutthedentedwatchwastheplacewhereitwasfound—inRatchett’spyjamapocket,asingularlyuncomfortableandunlikelyplacetokeepone’swatch,especiallyasthereisawatch‘hook’providedjustbytheheadofthebed.Ifeltsure,therefore,thatthewatchhadbeendeliberatelyplacedinthepocketandfaked.Thecrime,then,wasnotcommittedataquarterpastone.
“Wasit,then,committedearlier?Tobeexact,attwenty-threeminutestoone?MyfriendM.Boucadvancedasanargumentinfavourofittheloudcrywhichawokemefromsleep.ButifRatchettwereheavilydruggedhecouldnothavecriedout.Ifhehadbeencapableofcryingouthewouldhavebeencapableofmakingsomekindofastruggletodefendhimself,andtherewerenosignsofanysuchstruggle.
“IrememberedthatMacQueenhadcalledattention,notoncebuttwice(andthesecondtimeinaveryblatantmanner),tothefactthatRatchettcouldspeaknoFrench.Icametotheconclusionthatthewholebusinessattwenty-threeminutestoonewasacomedyplayedformybenefit!Anyonemightseethroughthewatchbusiness—itisacommonenoughdeviceindetectivestories.TheyassumedthatIshouldseethroughitandthat,plumingmyselfonmyowncleverness,IwouldgoontoassumethatsinceRatchettspokenoFrenchthevoiceIheardattwenty-threeminutestoonecouldnotbehis,andthatRatchettmustbealreadydead.ButIamconvincedthatattwenty-threeminutestooneRatchettwasstilllyinginhisdruggedsleep.
“Butthedevicehassucceeded!Ihaveopenedmydoorandlookedout.IhaveactuallyheardtheFrenchphraseused.IfIamsounbelievablydenseasnottorealizethesignificanceofthatphrase,itmustbebroughttomyattention.IfnecessaryMacQueencancomerightoutintheopen.Hecansay,‘Excuseme,M.Poirot,thatcan’thavebeenMr.Ratchettspeaking.Hecan’tspeakFrench.’
“Nowwhenwastherealtimeofthecrime?Andwhokilledhim?
“Inmyopinion,andthisisonlyanopinion,Ratchettwaskilledatsometimeverycloseupontwoo’clock,thelatesthourthedoctorgivesusaspossible
“Astowhokilledhim—”
Hepaused,lookingathisaudience.Hecouldnotcomplainofanylackofattention.Everyeyewasfixeduponhim.Inthestillnessyoucouldhaveheardapindrop.
Hewentonslowly:
“IwasparticularlystruckbytheextraordinarydifficultyofprovingacaseagainstanyonepersononthetrainandontherathercuriouscoincidencethatineachcasethetestimonygivinganalibicamefromwhatImightdescribeasan‘unlikely’person.ThusMr.MacQueenandColonelArbuthnotprovidedalibisforeachother—twopersonsbetweenwhomitseemedmostunlikelythereshouldbeanyprioracquaintanceship.ThesamethinghappenedwiththeEnglishvaletandtheItalian,withtheSwedishladyandtheEnglishgirl.Isaidtomyself,‘Thisisextraordinary—theycannotallbeinit!’
“Andthen,Messieurs,Isawlight.Theywereallinit.ForsomanypeopleconnectedwiththeArmstrongcasetobetravellingbythesametrainbyacoincidencewasnotonlyunlikely,itwasimpossible.Itmustbenotchance,butdesign.IrememberedaremarkofColonelArbuthnot’sabouttrialbyjury.Ajuryiscomposedoftwelvepeople—thereweretwelvepassengers—Ratchettwasstabbedtwelvetimes.Andthethingthathadworriedmeallalong—theextraordinarycrowdtravellingintheStamboul—Calaiscoachataslacktimeofyearwasexplained.
“RatchetthadescapedjusticeinAmerica.Therewasnoquestionastohisguilt.Ivisualizedaself-appointedjuryoftwelvepeoplewhocondemnedhimtodeathandwereforcedbyexigenciesofthecasetobetheirownexecutioners.Andimmediately,onthatassumption,thewholecasefellintobeautifulshiningorder.
“Isawitasaperfectmosaic,eachpersonplayinghisorherallottedpart.Itwassoarrangedthatifsuspicionshouldfallonanyoneperson,theevidenceofoneormoreoftheotherswouldcleartheaccusedpersonandconfusetheissue.Hardman’sevidencewasnecessaryincasesomeoutsidershouldbesuspectedofthecrimeandbeunabletoproveanalibi.ThepassengersintheStamboulcarriagewereinnodanger.Everyminutedetailoftheirevidencewasworkedoutbeforehand.Thewholethingwasaverycleverly-plannedjig-sawpuzzle,soarrangedthateveryfreshpieceofknowledgethatcametolightmadethesolutionofthewholemoredifficult.AsmyfriendM.Boucremarked,thecaseseemedfantasticallyimpossible!Thatwasexactlytheimpressionintendedtobeconveyed.
“Didthissolutionexplaineverything?Yes,itdid.Thenatureofthewounds—eachinflictedbyadifferentperson.Theartificialthreateningletters—artificialsincetheywereunreal,writtenonlytobeproducedasevidence.(Doubtlesstherewererealletters,warningRatchettofhisfate,whichMacQueendestroyed,substitutingforthemtheseothers.)ThenHardman’sstoryofbeingcalledinbyRatchett—alie,ofcourse,frombeginningtoend—thedescriptionofthemythical‘smalldarkmanwithawomanishvoice,’aconvenientdescription,sinceithadthemeritofnotincriminatinganyoftheactualWagonLitconductorsandwouldapplyequallywelltoamanorawoman.
“Theideaofstabbingisatfirstsightacuriousone,butonreflectionnothingwouldfitthecircumstancessowell.Adaggerwasaweaponthatcouldbeusedbyeveryone—strongorweak—anditmadenonoise.Ifancy,thoughImaybewrong,thateachpersoninturnenteredRatchett’sdarkenedcompartmentthroughthatofMrs.Hubbard—andstruck!Theythemselveswouldneverknowwhichblowactuallykilledhim.
“ThefinalletterwhichRatchetthadprobablyfoundonhispillowwascarefullyburnt.WithnocluepointingtotheArmstrongcase,therewouldbeabsolutelynoreasonforsuspectinganyofthepassengersonthetrain.Itwouldbeputdownasanoutsidejob,andthe‘smalldarkmanwiththewomanishvoice’wouldactuallyhavebeenseenbyoneormoreofthepassengersleavingthetrainatBrod.
“Idonotknowexactlywhathappenedwhentheconspiratorsdiscoveredthatthatpartoftheirplanwasimpossibleowingtotheaccidenttothetrain.Therewas,Iimagine,ahastyconsultation,andthentheydecidedtogothroughwithit.Itwastruethatnowoneandallofthepassengerswereboundtocomeundersuspicion,butthatpossibilityhadalreadybeenforeseenandprovidedfor.Theonlyadditionalthingtobedonewastoconfusetheissueevenfurther.Twoso-called‘clues’weredroppedinthedeadman’scompartment—oneincriminatingColonelArbuthnot(whohadthestrongestalibiandwhoseconnectionwiththeArmstrongfamilywasprobablythehardesttoprove)andthesecondclue,thehandkerchief,incriminatingPrincessDragomiroff,whobyvirtueofhersocialposition,herparticularlyfrailphysiqueandthealibigivenherbyhermaidandtheconductor,waspracticallyinanunassailableposition.Furthertoconfusetheissue,a‘redherring’wasdrawnacrossthetrail—themythicalwomanintheredkimono.AgainIamtobearwitnesstothiswoman’sexistence.Thereisaheavybangatmydoor.Igetupandlookout—andseethescarletkimonodisappearinginthedistance.Ajudiciousselectionofpeople—theconductor,MissDebenhamandMacQueen—willalsohaveseenher.Itwas,Ithink,someonewithasenseofhumourwhothoughtfullyplacedthescarletkimonoonthetopofmysuitcasewhilstIwasinterviewingpeopleinthediningcar.WherethegarmentcamefrominthefirstplaceIdonotknow.IsuspectitisthepropertyofCountessAndrenyi,sinceherluggagecontainedonlyachiffonnegligéesoelaborateastobemoreateagownthanadressinggown.
“WhenMacQueenfirstlearnedthattheletterwhichhadbeensocarefullyburnthadinpartescapeddestruction,andthatthewordArmstrongwasexactlythewordremaining,hemustatoncehavecommunicatedhisnewstotheothers.ItwasatthisminutethatthepositionofCountessAndrenyibecameacuteandherhusbandimmediatelytookstepstoalterthepassport.Itwastheirsecondpieceofbadluck!
“TheyoneandallagreedtodenyutterlyanyconnectionwiththeArmstrongfamily.TheyknewIhadnoimmediatemeansoffindingoutthetruth,andtheydidnotbelievethatIshouldgointothematterunlessmysuspicionswerearousedagainstoneparticularperson.
“Nowtherewasonefurtherpointtoconsider.Allowingthatmytheoryofthecrimewasthecorrectone,andIbelievethatitmustbethecorrectone,thenobviouslytheWagonLitconductorhimselfmustbeprivytotheplot.Butifso,thatgaveusthirteenpersons,nottwelve.Insteadoftheusualformula,‘Ofsomanypeopleoneisguilty,’Iwasfacedwiththeproblemthatofthirteenpersonsoneandoneonlywasinnocent.Whichwasthatperson?
“Icametoaveryoddconclusion.Icametotheconclusionthatthepersonwhohadtakennopartinthecrimewasthepersonwhowouldbeconsideredthemostlikelytodoso.IrefertoCountessAndrenyi.Iwasimpressedbytheearnestnessofherhusbandwhenhesworetomesolemnlyonhishonourthathiswifeneverlefthercompartmentthatnight.IdecidedthatCountAndrenyitook,sotospeak,hiswife’splace.
“Ifso,thenPierreMichelwasdefinitelyoneofthetwelve.Buthowcouldoneexplainhiscomplicity?HewasadecentmanwhohadbeenmanyyearsintheemployoftheCompany—notthekindofmanwhocouldbebribedtoassistinacrime.ThenPierreMichelmustbeinvolvedintheArmstrongcase.Butthatseemedveryimprobable.ThenIrememberedthatthedeadnurserymaidwasFrench.SupposingthatthatunfortunategirlhadbeenPierreMichel’sdaughter.Thatwouldexplaineverything—itwouldalsoexplaintheplacechosenforthestagingofthecrime.Werethereanyotherswhosepartinthedramawasnotclear?ColonelArbuthnotIputdownasafriendoftheArmstrongs.Theyhadprobablybeenthroughthewartogether.Themaid,HildegardeSchmidt,IcouldguessherplaceintheArmstronghousehold.Iam,perhaps,overgreedy,butIsenseagoodcookinstinctively.Ilaidatrapforher—shefellintoit.IsaidIknewshewasagoodcook.Sheanswered,‘Yes,indeed,allmyladieshavesaidso.’Butifyouareemployedasalady’smaidyouremployersseldomhaveachanceoflearningwhetherornotyouareagoodcook.
“ThentherewasHardman.HeseemedquitedefinitelynottobelongtotheArmstronghousehold.IcouldonlyimaginethathehadbeeninlovewiththeFrenchgirl.Ispoketohimofthecharmofforeignwomen—andagainIobtainedthereactionIwaslookingfor.Suddentearscameintohiseyes,whichhepretendedweredazzledbythesnow.
“ThereremainsMrs.Hubbard.NowMrs.Hubbard,letmesay,playedthemostimportantpartinthedrama.ByoccupyingthecompartmentcommunicatingwiththatofRatchettshewasmoreopentosuspicionthananyoneelse.Inthenatureofthingsshecouldnothaveanalibitofallbackupon.Toplaythepartsheplayed—theperfectlynatural,slightlyridiculousAmericanfondmother—anartistwasneeded.ButtherewasanartistconnectedwiththeArmstrongfamily—Mrs.Armstrong’smother—LindaArden,theactress…”
Hestopped.
Then,inasoftrichdreamyvoice,quiteunliketheoneshehadusedallthejourney,Mrs.Hubbardsaid:
“Ialwaysfanciedmyselfincomedyparts.”
Shewentonstilldreamily:
“Thatslipaboutthespongebagwassilly.Itshowsyoushouldalwaysrehearseproperly.Wetrieditonthewayout—Iwasinanevennumbercompartmentthen,Isuppose.Ineverthoughtoftheboltsbeingindifferentplaces.”
SheshiftedherpositionalittleandlookedstraightatPoirot.
“Youknowallaboutit,M.Poirot.You’reaverywonderfulman.Butevenyoucan’tquiteimaginewhatitwaslike—thatawfuldayinNewYork.Iwasjustcrazywithgrief—soweretheservants—andColonelArbuthnotwasthere,too.HewasJohnArmstrong’sbestfriend.”
“Hesavedmylifeinthewar,”saidArbuthnot.
“Wedecidedthenandthere—perhapsweweremad—Idon’tknow—thatthesentenceofdeaththatCassettihadescapedhadgottobecarriedout.Thereweretwelveofus—orrathereleven—Susanne’sfatherwasoverinFrance,ofcourse.Firstwethoughtwe’ddrawlotsastowhoshoulddoit,butintheendwedecidedonthisway.Itwasthechauffeur,Antonio,whosuggestedit.MaryworkedoutallthedetailslaterwithHectorMacQueen.He’dalwaysadoredSonia—mydaughter—anditwashewhoexplainedtousexactlyhowCassetti’smoneyhadmanagedtogethimoff.
“Ittookalongtimetoperfectourplan.WehadfirsttotrackRatchettdown.Hardmanmanagedthatintheend.ThenwehadtotrytogetMastermanandHectorintohisemployment—oratanyrateoneofthem.Well,wemanagedthat.ThenwehadaconsultationwithSusanne’sfather.ColonelArbuthnotwasverykeenonhavingtwelveofus.Heseemedtothinkitmadeitmoreinorder.Hedidn’tlikethestabbingideamuch,butheagreedthatitdidsolvemostofourdifficulties.Well,Susanne’sfatherwaswilling.Susannewashisonlychild.WeknewfromHectorthatRatchettwouldbecomingbackfromtheEastsoonerorlaterbytheOrientExpress.WithPierreMichelactuallyworkingonthattrain,thechancewastoogoodtobemissed.Besides,itwouldbeagoodwayofnotincriminatinganyoutsiders.
“Mydaughter’shusbandhadtoknow,ofcourse,andheinsistedoncomingonthetrainwithher.HectorwangleditsothatRatchettselectedtherightdayfortravellingwhenMichelwouldbeonduty.WemeanttoengageeverycarriageintheStamboul-Calaiscoach,butunfortunatelytherewasonecarriagewecouldn’tget.Itwasreservedlongbeforehandforadirectorofthecompany.Mr.Harris,ofcourse,wasamyth.ButitwouldhavebeenawkwardtohaveanystrangerinHector’scompartment.Andthen,atthelastminute,youcame….”
Shestopped.
“Well,”shesaid.“Youknoweverythingnow,M.Poirot.Whatareyougoingtodoaboutit?Ifitmustallcomeout,can’tyoulaytheblameuponmeandmeonly?Iwouldhavestabbedthatmantwelvetimeswillingly.Itwasn’tonlythathewasresponsibleformydaughter’sdeathandherchild’s,andthatoftheotherchildwhomighthavebeenaliveandhappynow.Itwasmorethanthat.TherehadbeenotherchildrenbeforeDaisy—theremightbeothersinthefuture.Societyhadcondemnedhim;wewereonlycarryingoutthesentence.Butit’sunnecessarytobringalltheseothersintoit.Allthesegoodfaithfulsouls—andpoorMichel—andMaryandColonelArbuthnot—theyloveeachother….”
Hervoicewaswonderfulechoingthroughthecrowdedspace—thatdeep,emotional,heart-stirringvoicethathadthrilledmanyaNewYorkaudience.
Poirotlookedathisfriend.
“Youareadirectorofthecompany,M.Bouc,”hesaid,“Whatdoyousay?”
M.Boucclearedhisthroat.
“Inmyopinion,M.Poirot,”hesaid,“thefirsttheoryyouputforwardwasthecorrectone—decidedlyso.IsuggestthatthatisthesolutionweoffertotheYugo-Slavianpolicewhentheyarrive.Youagree,Doctor?”
“CertainlyIagree,”saidDr.Constantine.“Asregardsthemedicalevidence,Ithink—er—thatImadeoneortwofantasticsuggestions.”
“Then,”saidPoirot,“havingplacedmysolutionbeforeyou,Ihavethehonourtoretirefromthecase….”
TheAgathaChristieCollection
THEHERCULEPOIROTMYSTERIES
MatchyourwitswiththefamousBelgiandetective.
TheMysteriousAffairatStylesTheMurderontheLinksPoirotInvestigatesTheMurderofRogerAckroydTheBigFourTheMysteryoftheBlueTrainPerilatEndHouseLordEdgwareDiesMurderontheOrientExpressThreeActTragedyDeathintheCloudsTheA.B.C.MurdersMurderinMesopotamiaCardsontheTableMurderintheMewsandOtherStoriesDumbWitnessDeathontheNileAppointmentwithDeathHerculePoirot’sChristmasSadCypressOne,Two,BuckleMyShoeEvilUndertheSunFiveLittlePigsTheHollowTheLaborsofHerculesTakenattheFloodTheUnderdogandOtherStoriesMrs.McGinty’sDeadAftertheFuneralHickoryDickoryDockDeadMan’sFollyCatAmongthePigeonsTheClocksThirdGirlHallowe’enPartyElephantsCanRememberCurtain:Poirot’sLastCase
Exploremoreatwww.AgathaChristie.com
TheAgathaChristieCollection
THEMISSMARPLEMYSTERIES
JointhelegendaryspinstersleuthfromSt.MaryMeadinsolvingmurdersfarandwide.
TheMurderattheVicarageTheBodyintheLibraryTheMovingFingerAMurderIsAnnouncedTheyDoItwithMirrorsAPocketFullofRye4:50FromPaddingtonTheMirrorCrack’dACaribbeanMysteryAtBertram’sHotelNemesisSleepingMurderMissMarple:TheCompleteShortStoryCollection
THETOMMYANDTUPPENCEMYSTERIES
Jumponboardwiththeentertainingcrime-solvingcouplefromYoungAdventurersLtd.
TheSecretAdversaryPartnersinCrimeNorM?BythePrickingofMyThumbsPosternofFate
Exploremoreatwww.AgathaChristie.com
TheAgathaChristieCollection
Don’tmissasingleoneofAgathaChristie’sstand-alonenovelsandshort-storycollections.
TheManintheBrownSuitTheSecretofChimneysTheSevenDialsMysteryTheMysteriousMr.QuinTheSittafordMysteryParkerPyneInvestigatesWhyDidn’tTheyAskEvans?MurderIsEasyTheRegattaMysteryandOtherStoriesAndThenThereWereNoneTowardsZeroDeathComesastheEndSparklingCyanideTheWitnessfortheProsecutionandOtherStoriesCrookedHouseThreeBlindMiceandOtherStoriesTheyCametoBaghdadDestinationUnknownOrdealbyInnocenceDoubleSinandOtherStoriesThePaleHorseStaroverBethlehem:PoemsandHolidayStoriesEndlessNightPassengertoFrankfurtTheGoldenBallandOtherStoriesTheMousetrapandOtherPlaysTheHarlequinTeaSet
Exploremoreatwww.AgathaChristie.com
AbouttheAuthor
AgathaChristieisthemostwidelypublishedauthorofalltimeandinanylanguage,outsoldonlybytheBibleandShakespeare.HerbookshavesoldmorethanabillioncopiesinEnglishandanotherbillioninahundredforeignlanguages.Sheistheauthorofeightycrimenovelsandshort-storycollections,nineteenplays,twomemoirs,andsixnovelswrittenunderthenameMaryWestmacott.
ShefirsttriedherhandatdetectivefictionwhileworkinginahospitaldispensaryduringWorldWarI,creatingthenowlegendaryHerculePoirotwithherdebutnovelTheMysteriousAffairatStyles.WithTheMurderintheVicarage,publishedin1930,sheintroducedanotherbelovedsleuth,MissJaneMarple.Additionalseriescharactersincludethehusband-and-wifecrime-fightingteamofTommyandTuppenceBeresford,privateinvestigatorParkerPyne,andScotlandYarddetectivesSuperintendentBattleandInspectorJapp.
ManyofChristie’snovelsandshortstorieswereadaptedintoplays,films,andtelevisionseries.TheMousetrap,hermostfamousplayofall,openedin1952andisthelongest-runningplayinhistory.AmongherbestknownfilmadaptationsareMurderontheOrientExpress(1974)andDeathontheNile(1978),withAlbertFinneyandPeterUstinovplayingHerculePoirot,respectively.OnthesmallscreenPoirothasbeenmostmemorablyportrayedbyDavidSuchet,andMissMarplebyJoanHicksonandsubsequentlyGeraldineMcEwanandJuliaMcKenzie.
ChristiewasfirstmarriedtoArchibaldChristieandthentoarchaeologistSirMaxMallowan,whomsheaccompaniedonexpeditionstocountriesthatwouldalsoserveasthesettingsformanyofhernovels.In1971sheachievedoneofBritain’shighesthonorswhenshewasmadeaDameoftheBritishEmpire.Shediedin1976attheageofeighty-five.Heronehundredandtwentiethanniversarywascelebratedaroundtheworldin2010.
www.AgathaChristie.com
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THEAGATHACHRISTIECOLLECTION
TheManintheBrownSuit
TheSecretofChimneys
TheSevenDialsMystery
TheMysteriousMr.Quin
TheSittafordMystery
ParkerPyneInvestigates
WhyDidn’tTheyAskEvans?
MurderIsEasy
TheRegattaMysteryandOtherStories
AndThenThereWereNone
TowardsZero
DeathComesastheEnd
SparklingCyanide
TheWitnessfortheProsecutionandOtherStories
CrookedHouse
ThreeBlindMiceandOtherStories
TheyCametoBaghdad
DestinationUnknown
OrdealbyInnocence
DoubleSinandOtherStories
ThePaleHorse
StaroverBethlehem:PoemsandHolidayStories
EndlessNight
PassengertoFrankfurt
TheGoldenBallandOtherStories
TheMousetrapandOtherPlays
TheHarlequinTeaSet
TheHerculePoirotMysteries
TheMysteriousAffairatStyles
TheMurderontheLinks
PoirotInvestigates
TheMurderofRogerAckroyd
TheBigFour
TheMysteryoftheBlueTrain
PerilatEndHouse
LordEdgwareDies
MurderontheOrientExpress
ThreeActTragedy
DeathintheClouds
TheA.B.C.Murders
MurderinMesopotamia
CardsontheTable
MurderintheMewsandOtherStories
DumbWitness
DeathontheNile
AppointmentwithDeath
HerculePoirot’sChristmas
SadCypress
One,Two,BuckleMyShoe
EvilUndertheSun
FiveLittlePigs
TheHollow
TheLaborsofHercules
TakenattheFlood
TheUnderdogandOtherStories
Mrs.McGinty’sDead
AftertheFuneral
HickoryDickoryDock
DeadMan’sFolly
CatAmongthePigeons
TheClocks
ThirdGirl
Hallowe’enParty
ElephantsCanRemember
Curtain:Poirot’sLastCase
TheMissMarpleMysteries
TheMurderattheVicarage
TheBodyintheLibrary
TheMovingFinger
AMurderIsAnnounced
TheyDoItwithMirrors
APocketFullofRye
4:50fromPaddington
TheMirrorCrack’d
ACaribbeanMystery
AtBertram’sHotel
Nemesis
SleepingMurder
MissMarple:TheCompleteShortStoryCollection
TheTommyandTuppenceMysteries
TheSecretAdversary
PartnersinCrime
NorM?
BythePrickingofMyThumbs
PosternofFate
Copyright
Thisbookisaworkoffiction.Thecharacters,incidents,anddialoguearedrawnfromtheauthor’simaginationandarenottobeconstruedasreal.Anyresemblancetoactualeventsorpersons,livingordead,isentirelycoincidental.
ThistitlewaspreviouslypublishedasMurderintheCalaisCoach.
AGATHACHRISTIE?POIROT?MURDERONTHEORIENTEXPRESS.?Copyright?2011AgathaChristieLimited(aChorioncompany).Allrightsreserved.MurderontheOrientExpresswasfirstpublishedin1934.
MURDERONTHEORIENTEXPRESS.?1934.PublishedbypermissionofG.P.Putnam’sSons,amemberofPenguinGroup(USA)Inc.AllrightsreservedunderInternationalandPan-AmericanCopyrightConventions.Bypaymentoftherequiredfees,youhavebeengrantedthenonexclusive,nontransferablerighttoaccessandreadthetextofthise-bookon-screen.Nopartofthistextmaybereproduced,transmitted,downloaded,decompiled,reverse-engineered,orstoredinorintroducedintoanyinformationstorageandretrievalsystem,inanyformorbyanymeans,whetherelectronicormechanical,nowknownorhereinafterinvented,withouttheexpresswrittenpermissionofHarperCollinse-books.
LibraryofCongressCataloging-in-PublicationDataisavailableuponrequest.
ISBN978-0-06-207349-5
EPubEdition?MAY2011ISBN:978-0-06-175382-4
1112131415
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TableofContents
TitlePage
Dedication
Contents
PartOne:TheFacts
1.AnImportantPassengerontheTaurusExpress2.TheTokatlianHotel3.PoirotRefusesaCase4.ACryintheNight5.TheCrime6.AWoman?7.TheBody8.TheArmstrongKidnappingCase
PartTwo:TheEvidence
1.TheEvidenceoftheWagonLitConductor2.TheEvidenceoftheSecretary3.TheEvidenceoftheValet4.TheEvidenceoftheAmericanLady5.TheEvidenceoftheSwedishLady6.TheEvidenceoftheRussianPrincess7.TheEvidenceofCountandCountessAndrenyi8.TheEvidenceofColonelArbuthnot9.TheEvidenceofMr.Hardman10.TheEvidenceoftheItalian11.TheEvidenceofMissDebenham12.TheEvidenceoftheGermanLady’sMaid13.SummaryofthePassengers’Evidence14.TheEvidenceoftheWeapon15.TheEvidenceofthePassengers’Luggage
PartThree:HerculePoirotSitsBackandThinks
1.WhichofThem?2.TenQuestions3.CertainSuggestivePoints4.TheGreaseSpotonaHungarianPassport5.TheChristianNameofPrincessDragomiroff6.ASecondInterviewwithColonelArbuthnot7.TheIdentityofMaryDebenham8.FurtherSurprisingRevelations9.PoirotPropoundsTwoSolutions
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