CHAPTERONE

TheJourneyBegins

Thewonderfulviewsof snow-toppedmountainspassedunnoticedas thetrain sped away from Syria towards Istanbul. As the Belgian detective M.Hercule Poirot drank his coffee, he watched the only other person in therestaurantcarriage-atall,thinyounglady,perhapstwenty-eightyearsold.Fromthe way that she ate her breakfast, she seemed to be an experienced andconfidenttraveller.Headmiredherpaleface,tidydarkhairandcoolgreyeyes.Agood-lookingwoman,hethought,butperhapsalittletoocoldandefficienttobedescribedaspretty.

Soonatall,thinmanenteredtherestaurantcarriage.Hewasbetweenfortyand fifty, with greying hair and skin darkened by the sun. He spoke to thewoman.HisaccentwasEnglish.

'Morning,MissDebenham.'

'Goodmorning,ColonelArbuthnot,'shereplied.

'DoyoumindifIsitwithyou?'

'Ofcoursenot.Please,sit.'Shesmiledpolitely.

He sat down and ordered his breakfast. He looked quickly towards M.Poirot-athisenormous,curledmoustacheandstrange,egg-shapedhead-thenlookedaway.'Justasillylookingforeigner,'hethoughttohimself.

TheBritishpairexchangedafewpolitewordsovertheirbreakfast,andatlunchtimetheysattogetheragain.ThemanspokeofhislifeinthearmyinIndia,andoccasionallyaskedthegirlquestionsaboutBaghdad,whereshehadbeenagoverness.When theydiscovered that theyhad some friends incommon, theybecamemorefriendly.

'AreyoustoppinginIstanbul?'themanasked.

'No,I'mgoingstraightthrough.Isawallthesightstwoyearsago,onmywaytoBaghdad.'

'Well,ImustsayI'mverygladaboutthat.I'mgoingstraightthroughtoo.'Hisfacewentalittlered.

'Thatwillbenice,'saidMissDebenhamwithoutemotion.

The train stopped late that eveningatKonya.The twoEnglish travellerswentoutsideforsomefreshairandexercise.Afterafewminutes,Poirotdecidedtogetsomeairtoo,andstartedtowalkalongtheplatform.Itwasbitterlycold.

Outofthedarkness,heheardtwovoices.Arbuthnotwasspeaking.'Mary-'

Agirl interruptedhim. 'Not now.Not now.When it's all over.When it'sbehindus-then-

M.Poirot silently changeddirection. 'Strange,' he said tohimself. Itwasthe voice ofMissDebenham, but a verydifferent one from the cool, efficientvoicethathehadheardonthetrain.

The next afternoon, the train stopped unexpectedly. Poirot asked theconductoriftherewasaproblem.

MissDebenhamwasjustbehindhim.'What'sthematter?'sheaskedPoirotinFrench.'Whyarewestopping?'

'Something caught fire under the restaurant carriage,' he explained, 'buttheyarerepairingthedamage.Itisnothingserious.'

Shelookedimpatient.'Butthetime!Thiswilldelayus.'

'Itispossible-yes,'agreedPoirot.

'Butwecan'tafforddelay!Ifwearedelayedbymorethananhour,wewillmissourconnectionwiththeOrientExpress.'

Herhandswereshaking.Shewasclearlyveryupset.

Luckily,herworriesweresoonforgotten.Tenminutes later the trainwasagainonitsway,andtherestofthejourneytoIstanbulwentverysmoothly.M.Poirotwent straight to the TokatlianHotel. Hewas looking forward to a fewdaysvisitingthesightsinIstanbulbeforehecontinuedhisjourneyhome.

Atthehotel,heaskedifhehadanyletters.Therewerethree,andanurgentmessagetoo.Thiswasasurprise.

'UnexpectedchangeinKassnercase.Pleasereturnimmediately,'heread.

'Howannoying!'hesaidtohimself.Helookedattheclock.

'ImustleaveIstanbultonight,'hetoldthemanatthehoteldesk.'Canyougetmeafirst-classcompartmenttoLondon?'

'Ofcourse,Monsieur.Thetrainisalmostemptyinthewinter.Itleavesatnineo'clock.'

'Thankyou,'saidM.Poirot.Hehadjustenoughtimeforsomedinner.

Ashewasorderinghisfoodinthehotelrestaurant,hefeltahandonhisshoulder.

'M. Poirot!What an unexpected pleasure!' said a voice behind him.Thespeakerwasashort,fatmaninhisfifties.

'M.Bouc!'criedPoirot.

M. Bouc was Belgian, and had a high position in the CompagnieInternationaledesWagonsLits.Thetwomenhadbeenfriendsformanyyears,sincethedayswhenPoirotwasayoungdetectiveintheBelgianpoliceforce.

'Youareveryfarfromhome,myfriend,'saidM.Bouc.

'Yes.A little business in Syria.But I am heading home tonight - on theOrientExpress,ifthereisacompartment.'

'Excellent!Iwillbeonthesametrain.Later,youcantellmeallyournews.Youareafamousdetectivenow,Ihear.'

Withawarmsmile,M.Bouclefttherestaurant.

M. Poirot returned to the job of keeping hismoustache out of the soup.Soon,though,hisattentionwascaughtbytwomenwhoweresittingtogetherata table not far from his. The younger was a friendly-looking man of thirty,

clearlyanAmerican.Theotherwasinhissixtiesandseemedatfirsttobeakindoldgentleman.Butwhenhis small, shadowyeyesmetPoirot's, thedetective'sopinionofhimchangedcompletely.JustforasecondPoirotsensedthatthemanwasdangerous.Itseemedthattherewasawildanimalhiddeninsidetheman'sbody,lookingoutattheworldwiththoseevileyes.

M. Poirot soon joined his friend M. Bouc near the hotel desk. TheirconversationwasinterruptedbythehotelworkerwhowasorganisingM.Poirot'strainticket.

'Itisverystrange,Monsieur.Allthefirst-classcompartmentsarebooked-andthesecond-classtoo.'

'What?'askedM.Bouc.'Atthistimeofyear?Impossible!'

'Butitistrue,sir,'themanreplied.'Iamsorry.'

'Well, well,' M. Bouc said to Poirot, 'do not worry. We will arrangesomethingwiththeconductor.'Helookedupattheclock.'Come,'hesaid, 'itistimetogo.'

Atthestation,M.Bouctooktheconductortooneside.

'Wemust find a compartment for this gentleman here.He is a friend ofmine.'

'Butwearecompletelyfull,Monsieur.Itismostunusual.'

'Well,' saidM.Bouc, 'tomorrow therewill bemore compartments,whenwe reach Belgrade. The problem is for tonight.' He paused for a moment.'Everyonehasarrived?'

Theconductorlookedathislist.'Number7-asecond-classcompartment.Thegentleman-aMrHarris-hasnotyetcome,anditisfourminutestonine.'

'Then put M. Poirot's luggage in number 7,' said M. Bouc. 'If this MrHarrisarrives,wewilltellhimthatheistoolate.'

With words of thanks to M. Bouc, Poirot followed his luggage tocompartment7.InsideitwasthetallyoungAmericanfromthehotel.

HewasnotpleasedwhenPoirotentered.'Excuseme,'hesaidinFrench.'Ithinkyou'vemadeamistake.'

'There are no other beds on the train, M. MacQueen,' the conductorapologised.'Thegentlemanhastocomeinhere.'

Poirot noticed that the conductor seemed almost as annoyed as theAmerican.Perhapshehadbeenofferedmoneytokeeptheotherbedempty.

Whentheconductorhadleft,MacQueen'sannoyanceseemedforgotten.

'Thetrain'ssurprisinglyfull,'hesaidwithasmile.

Justthen,thetrainstartedmoving.Theirthree-dayjourneyacrossEuropehadbegun.

After a good night's sleep, Poirot spent the morning alone in hiscompartment,lookingathisnotesonthecasethathadcalledhimtoLondon.

HehadalatelunchwithM.Bouc.Astheyrelaxedattheendofthemeal,theylookedaroundtherestaurantcarriage.

'IfIwereawriter,Iwouldusethisscene,'saidM.Bouc.'Allaroundusarepeopleofallclasses,ofallnationalities,ofallages.Forthreedaysthesepeoplesleepandeatunderoneroof.Theycannotescapeeachother.Butat theendofthethreedaystheygotheirseparatewaysandneverseeeachotheragain.'

There were thirteen people in the restaurant carriage, andM. Boucwasright:theywereaverymixedgroup.Abig,hairyItalianwassittingwithathin,pale Englishman, probably a servant, and anAmerican in a brightly-colouredsuit.TheAmericanandItalianexchangedbusinessadvicewhiletheEnglishmanstaredoutofthewindow.Hewasclearlynotenjoyingtheconversation.

Atthenexttablesatanuglyladywhoseclothesandjewellery,thoughtheydidnothingtohelpherappearance,wereclearlyfromthemostexpensiveshopsinParis.

'That is Princess Dragomiroff,' said M. Bouc. 'She is Russian, but herhusbandgothismoneyoutofthecountrybeforetheCommuniststookcontrol.Sougly,butwhatacharacter!'

Atanothertable,MaryDebenhamwassittingwithakindlookingmiddle-aged woman with fair hair and a sheep-like face; with them was an olderwoman,anAmericanwhoneverseemedtostoptalking.ColonelArbuthnotwasat the next table, alone.Against thewall sat amiddle-agedwomandressed inblack-aservant,Poirotguessed.Thentherewasagood-lookingmanofaboutthirtywithabeautifulyoungwoman.Perfectlydressedinthelatestfashion,shehadpaleskinandlargebrowneyes.Poirotcouldnottakehiseyesoffher.

'AHungariandiplomat andhiswife, Ibelieve,' saidM.Bouc, seeinghisfriend'sinterest.'Averyattractivecouple.'

ThentherewasMacQueenandhisemployer, themanwith thekindfaceandthesmall,crueleyes.

M.BoucreturnedtohiscompartmentwhileM.Poirotfinishedhiscoffee.

'My daughter said I would have no trouble with these food tickets,' heheardtheAmericanwomansaytoMissDebenhamasshepaidthewaiter. 'Butthenthere'smoneyforthewaiter,andthatbottleofwater.Nastywatertoo.Theyhaven'tgotanyEvian,whichseemsveryoddtome.'Shelookedcrosslyat thecoinsinfrontofher.'Andlookatthisrubbishthatthewaiter'sgivenme.Dinarsorsomething.Mydaughtersaid-'

At this point, Mary Debenhammade a polite excuse and left the table.ColonelArbuthnot got up and followed her.Very soon the restaurant carriagewasemptyexceptforPoirotandMacQueen'semployer.

Tothedetective'ssurprise,themancameandsatdownathistable.'Goodafternoon,' he said in a quiet, deep voice. 'Myname isRatchett. I think that IhavethepleasureofspeakingtoMrHerculePoirot.Isthatright?'

'Yourinformationiscorrect,Monsieur,'saidthedetective.

'Iwantyoutodoajobforme,'saidRatchett.

Poirotlookedsurprised.'Itakeveryfewcases,I'mafraid.'

'Of course. But this, Mr Poirot, means money. Big money.' Poirot wassilentforamoment.Thenhesaid,'Whatdoyouwishmetodoforyou,M.-er-Ratchett?'

'MrPoirot, Iama richman-avery richman.Men inmypositionhaveenemies.Someonehasthreatenedtokillme.Icanlookaftermyselfquitewell.'He quickly showedPoirot the gun in his pocket. 'But I'd like to be especiallycareful.Remember,wearetalkingbigmoney,MrPoirot.'

Poirotthoughtforsomeminutes.Finallyhesaid,'Iamsorry,Monsieur,butIcannothelpyou.'

Theothermansmiled.'NotevenifIgiveyoutwentythousanddollars?'

'No,Monsieur.'

'Butwhynot?Whydoesthiscasenotinterestyou?'

Poirotstoodup.'Forgivemeforbeingpersonal,butIdonotlikeyourface,M.Ratchett,'hesaid.

TheOrientExpressarrivedatBelgradeataquarter tonine thatevening.M.Boucwasmovedintoacarriagethathadjust joinedthetrainfromAthens,andPoirotwasgivenM.Bouc'soldcompartment,number1.At9.15,withheavysnowfallingoutside,thetrainwasonitswayagain.

Thestrangersofyesterdaywerealreadybecomingmorefriendly.ColonelArbuthnotwasstandingatthedoorofhiscompartmenttalkingtoMacQueen.

Two doors from Poirot's new compartment, the olderAmericanwoman,MrsHubbard,wastalkingtothesheep-likelady.

'Oh,isn'tthiscoldweatherterrible!Ihopeyourheadwillbebetterinthemorning.Haveyougotsomeaspirin?Areyousure?I'vegotplenty.Well,goodnight,mydear.'

SheturnedtoPoirotastheotherwomandeparted.

'Poorwoman,she'sSwedish.Somekindofteacher.Verynice,butdoesn'ttalkmuchEnglish.Shewasveryinterestedtohearaboutmydaughter.'

Poirot,likeeveryoneelseonthetrain,nowknewallaboutMrsHubbard'sdaughter, who was teaching at a big American college in Turkey. They alsoknewMrsHubbard'sopinionofTurks,theirlazyhabitsandtheterriblecondition

oftheirroads.

The door next to them opened and the thin, pale manservant came out.Inside,PoirotsawMrRatchettsittingupinbed.Thenthedoorwasshut.

MrsHubbardmovedclosertoPoirot.

'Youknow,I'mfrightenedofthatman,'shesaidquietly.'Nottheservant-the otherman. I can just feel that he's dangerous.He's next door tome and Idon'tlikeit.Itwouldn'tsurprisemeifhewasamurderer.'

ColonelArbuthnot andMacQueenwere coming towards themdown thecorridor.'Comeintomycompartment,'MacQueenwassaying,'andwecantalksomemore.SoyouthinkthatinIndiatheBritishshould-'

The voice suddenly went quiet as the two men entered MacQueen'scompartment.

'I'mgoingtobed,'MrsHubbardsaidtoPoirot.'Goodnight.'

Poirot went into his own compartment, whichwas the next one beyondRatchett's.Hereadinbedforabouthallanhourandthenturnedoutthelight.

Hewaswokena fewhours later by a cry. It sounded like a cryofpain,fromsomewherenotfaraway.Thiswasimmediatelyfollowedbytheringingofabell.

Poirotsatupandswitchedonthe light.Henoticedthat the trainwasnotmoving.Remembering thatRatchettwas in thenext-doorcompartment,hegotoutofbedandopenedthedoor.Theconductorwashurryingalongthecorridor.Heknockedon

Ratchett'sdoor.Noanswer.Heknockedasecondtime,justasanotherbellrang further down the corridor and a light was turned on. From Ratchett'scompartment,avoicecalledout,'Cen'estrien.Jemesuistrompe.'

'Very good,Monsieur,' said the conductor.He hurried off again, towardsthedoorwherethelightwasshowing.

Poirotreturnedtobed,checkedhiswatchandswitchedoffthelight.Itwas

twenty-threeminutestoone.

Hecouldnotsleep.Thenoisesonboardthetrainseemedunusuallyloud.HecouldhearRatchettmovingaroundnextdoor,andfootsteps in thecorridoroutside.

Histhroatfeltdry.Hehadforgottentoaskforhisusualbottleofwater.Helookedathiswatchagain.Aquarterpastone.Hewasthinkingofringingfortheconductor and asking him for water when he heard another bell ring. Ting...ting...ting...

Poirotwaited:Theconductorcouldnotcometotwocompartmentsatthesametime.

Thebellsoundedagainandagain.Someonewasclearlygettingimpatient.Finally the conductor came. Poirot heard him apologise. Then there was awoman'svoice -MrsHubbard's.She spoke for some time,with the conductoraddingafewwordshereandthere.Thentheconductorsaidgoodnightandthedoorwasclosed.

Poirot took his chance and rang his own bell. The conductor, when hecame, lookedupset. 'It isMrsHubbard,'heexplained. 'Shesays that there isamaninherroom.Imagineit-inaroomofthatsize!Wherecouldhehide?Itoldherthatitwasimpossible,butshedidn'tlisten.Wehaveenoughtoworryaboutalready,withthissnow-'

'Snow?'

'Yes,Monsieur.Thereistoomuchsnowontheline.Thetrainhasstopped.Wemighthavetowaitherefordays.'

HebroughtPoirotthewater,thensaidgoodnight.

Poirotdrankaglassofwaterandbegantofallasleep.Hewassoonwideawake again, though. There had been a loud noise from the next-doorcompartment.Hadsomethingheavyfallenagainst thedoor?He jumpedoutofbed and looked out. Nothing, except a woman in a red dressing gown somedistancedownthecorridor.Attheotherendofthecorridor,theconductorwasdoingsomepaperwork.Everythingwasquiet.

'I should stopworrying,' he said to himself, andwent back to bed. Thistimehesleptuntilmorning.

CHAPTERTWO

ACruelandDangerousMan

WhenPoirotwoke,thetrainwasstillnotmoving.Therewasdeepsnowallaround them. In the restaurant carriage, everyone was complaining about thedelay.

'How long will we be here?' Mary Debenham asked. 'Doesn't anybodyknow?'

Hervoicesoundedimpatient,butshewasnotupsetinthewaythatshehadbeenatthedelaybeforereachingIstanbul.

MrsHubbardreplied,'Nobodyknowsanythingonthistrain,andnobody'strying to do anything. If thiswas inAmerica, peoplewould at least try to dosomething!Mydaughtersays-'Themorningcontinuedinthisway.Poirotlearnta lotmoreaboutMrsHubbard'sdaughterandabout thehabitsofMrHubbard,whohadrecentlydied.

Turninground,Poirotnoticedaconductorathiselbow-nottheconductorfromthenightbefore,butabig,fairman.

'Excuseme,Monsieur,'hesaid. 'M.Boucwouldbegrateful ityoucouldcometohimforafewminutes.'

Poirot made his excuses to the ladies and followed the conductor to acompartmentinthenextcarriage.M.Boucwassittingtherewithasmall,darkman,andamaninablueuniform-thetrainmanager.Theconductorfromthenightbeforewasstandingbythewindow.

'Mygoodfriend,'criedM.Bouc,'weneedyourhelp!'

M. Bouc was clearly upset. Poirot realised at once that the matter wasserious.'Whathashappened?'heasked.

'Well,firstthisterriblesnow-thisdelay.Andnow-'

Hestopped.

'Andnowwhat?'

'Andnowapassengerliesmurderedinhisbed.'

'Whichpassenger?'askedM.Poirot.

'An American. A mad called - called -' M. Bouc looked at his notes.'Ratchett.Itisadisaster!Amurderisbadenough.Butthetraincannotmove.Wemaybehere fordays.Wehavenopoliceonboard,andDrConstantine thinksthatthemurdererisstillamongus.'

The small, dark man now spoke. 'The window of M. Ratchett'scompartmentwasfoundwideopen,buttherewerenofootprintsinthesnow.Nooneleftthetrainthatway.'

'Atwhattimewasthemurder?'askedthedetective.

'It is difficult to give an exact time,' replied the doctor, 'but itwas sometimebetweenmidnightand2a.m.'

'Andthecrimewasdiscovered-when?'

M.BoucturnedtoMichel,theconductorbythewindow,wholookedpaleandfrightened.

'The waiter from the restaurant carriage wanted to know if Monsieurwantedlunch,'saidtheconductor.'Therewasnoanswer.Iopenedthedoorwithmykey,buttherewasabolttoo.

Icalledthetrainmanager.Wecutthroughtheboltandwentin.Hewas-itwasterrible.Terrible!'Hehidhisfaceinhishands.

'The doorwas locked and bolted on the inside,' saidPoirot thoughtfully.'Perhapshekilledhimself?'

'Doesamankillhimselfwithtwelveknifewoundsinthechest?'askedthedoctor.

'Itwasawoman,'saidthetrainmanager,speakingforthefirsttime.'Onlyawomanwouldkilllikethat.'

'Thenitwasaverystrongwoman,'saidthedoctor.'Theknifewentthroughboneinsomeplaces.'

'So,myfriend,youseeourproblem.'M.Bouclookedatthedetective.'Canyouhelpus?'

'Whatexactlydoyouwantmetodo?'M.Poirotasked.'Takecommandofthecase!Whenthepolicearrive,therewillbeproblems,delays,unpleasantness.Itwould be somuch better if the casewas already solvedwhen they arrived.Andyouare theperfectman for the job.Examine thebodyand interview thepassengers.Youwillnotbeable tocheck their stories,butyouonce said, "Tosolveacase,amanjusthastohebackinhischairandthink."Dothat-andyouwillknow!'

'Iaccept thecasewillingly,' smiled thedetective. 'Itwillhelp topass thetime.'

'Wonderful!'saidM.Bouc.'Wewillhelpyouinanywaythatwecan.'

'First,Iwouldlikeaplanofthecarriagewherethemurdertookplace,witha note of the namesof the people in each compartment. Iwill also need theirpassportsandtickets.'

'Michelwillgetyouthose.'

Theconductorleftthecompartment.

'Who are the other passengers on the train?' asked M. Poirot. 'In thiscarriage,DrConstantineandIaretheonlytravellers.Behindthisarethethird-classcarriages,buttheywerelockedafterdinnerlastnight.Infront,thereisonlytherestaurantcarriage.'

'So it seems likely that themurderer is now in theAmerican's carriage,'saidPoirot.

'Yes,' agreedDrConstantine. 'At half pastmidnightwewere stoppedbythesnow.Noonehasleftthetrainsincethen-oratleast,therearecertainlyno

footprintsinthesnow.'

'First I would like to speakwith youngM.MacQueen,' said Poirot. 'Hemay be able to give us some useful information.' The train manager fetchedMacQueen.

'What's the problem?' asked the American nervously as he sat downoppositePoirot.'Hasanythinghappened?'

'Yes, Monsieur,' answered the detective. .'Prepare yourself for a shock.Your employer, M. Ratchett, has been murdered.' MacQueen's eyes seemedbrighter,butexceptforthisheshowednosignsofshock.'Sotheygothimafterall,'hesaid.'Whatdoyoumean,M.MacQueen?'

MacQueenpaused.'Andyouare-?'

'I am a detectiveworking for theCompagnie Internationale desWagonsLits.MynameisM.HerculePoirot.Now,please,tellmewhatyoumean,Theygothimafterall.'

'Well,hehasbeengettingletters.Threateningletters.'

'Didyouseethem?'

'Yes. I am-was -his secretary. Itwasmy job toanswerhis letters.Thefirstcamelastweek.Wouldyouliketoseeit?'

'Yes,thatwouldhemosthelpful,'repliedthedetective.MacQueenleft,andsoon returnedwith a rather dirty piece of notepaper. Poirot read the carefullyprintedhandwriting:

Youthoughtyoucouldcheatus,didn'tyou?Well,youwerewrong.We'regoingtogetyou,Ratchett!

'Andtheotherlettersweresimilar?'askedthedetective.

'Yes,verysimilar.Ratchettpretendedtolaughaboutthem,butIcouldseethattheyworriedhim.'

'HowlonghaveyoubeenworkingforM.Ratchett?'

'A year. He travelled around a lot, but he spoke no languages exceptEnglish.Iwasmorehistranslatorthanhissecretary.'

'Now,tellmeasmuchasyoucanaboutyouremployer.'

'That'snotsoeasy.'Helookedconfused.

'HewasanAmericancitizen?'

'Yes.'

'WhatpartofAmericawashefrom?'

'Idon'tknow.Iknowalmostnothingabouthim.MrRatchettneverspokeofhimself,orhisfamily,orhislifeinAmerica.'

'Whywasthat,doyouthink?'

'Well, I think he was hiding something - something in his past. I'm notevensurethatRatchettwashisrealname.'

'Onelastquestion.Didyouhaveagoodrelationshipwithyouremployer?'

'Well, yes, I did. I didn't like him verymuch as a person, but I had noproblemswithhimasanemployer.'

'Youdidnotlikehim.Whywasthat?'

'Ican'texactlysay.'Hepaused,thencontinued,'Hewas,Iamsure,acrueland dangerousman. I have no reason for this opinion,M.Poirot, but I feel itverystrongly.'

'Thankyouforyourhonesty,MrMacQueen.'

M. Poirot and Dr Constantine went together to the compartment of themurderedman.Itwasfreezingcoldinside.Thewindowwaspusheddownasfarasitcouldgo.

'I did not like to close it,' said the doctor. 'Nothing has been touched inhere,andIwascarefulnottomovethebodywhenIexaminedit.'

'Good,'saidPoirot.Hecheckedthewindowforfingerprints,buttherewerenone.'Criminalsthesedaysarealwayscarefulaboutfingerprints.Andyouwereright, Doctor. There are no footprints in the snow. No one left the carriagethroughthiswindow-althoughperhapsthemurdererwantedustothinkthathedid.'

Poirot closed thewindow and turned his attention to the body. Ratchettwaslyingonhisbackinthebed.Thedetectivebentdowntolookatthewounds.

'Howmanywoundsarethereexactly?'heasked.

'Twelve,Ithink.Someareveryslight,butatleastthreeareseriousenoughto cause death.And there is something strange.These twowounds - here andhere-'Hepointed.'Theyaredeep,buttheyhavenotbledinthenormalway.'

'Whichmeans-?

'Thatthemanwasalreadydead-deadforsometime-when

thesewoundsweremade.Butthatseemsimpossible.'

'Unlikely,certainly-unlessourmurdererwasworriedthathehadn'tdonethejobrightthefirsttimeandcamebacktomakesure.'Hepaused,thenaskedsuddenly,'Werethelightson?'

'No,'repliedthedoctor.

Poirotthoughtforamoment.'Sowehavetwomurderers.Thefirstdidhisjob,thenturnedoffthelightasheleft.Later,thesecondarrivedinthedark,didnotseethathisorherworkhadbeendoneandstruckatadeadbody.Whatdoyouthink?'

'Verygood!' said thedoctor. 'Thatwouldalsoexplainwhysomewoundsaredeepbutothersaresoslight.Wehaveastrongmurdererandaweakerone.'

'Yes,buttwoindependentmurderersonthesamenight?Itissounlikely!'Poirot stopped, then continued, 'Could the deepest wounds be the work of awoman?'

'Perhaps-butonlyifshewasverystrong.'

Poirotputhishandunder thepillowandpulledout thegunthatRatchetthadshownhimthedaybefore. 'Whydidn't theAmericandefendhimself?Thebullets are all there, you see.' They looked round the room.Ratchett's clotheswerehangingtidilybehindthedoor.Onasmalltablewasabottleofwater,anemptyglass,someburntpiecesofpaperandausedmatch.

Thedoctorpickeduptheemptyglassandsmelledit.'ThisiswhyRatchettfailedtodefendhimself.Hewasdrugged.'

PoirotfeltinRatchett'spocketsandsoonbroughtoutaboxofmatches.Hecompared thematches carefullywith the one on the table. 'Thematch on thetable is a different shape from these - shorter and flatter. Perhaps it was themurderer's.'

Thedetectivecontinuedtolookroundtheroom.Then,withacry,hebentdownandpickedupahandkerchieffromthefloor.Itwassmallandpretty.

'Thetrainmanagerwasright!'hesaid.'Thereisawomaninthiscase.Andsheveryconvenientlyleavesusaclue-exactlyasithappensinthebooksandfilms.Andtomakethingseveneasierforus,thereisaletterHonit.'

Poirotmadeanotherdive to thefloor,and this timestoodupwithapipecleaner in his hand. 'Another convenient clue,' he smiled. 'And this time itsuggestsaman,notawoman.'

The doctor was now looking in the front pocket of Ratchett's pyjamas.'Ah!'hesaid.'Ididn'tnoticethisearlier.'

HeshowedPoirotagoldpocketwatch.Thecasewasbadlydamaged,andthehandspointedtoaquarterpastone.

'Yousee?'criedConstantine.'Thisgivesusthehourofthe

crime. It fits perfectly with the medical evidence, that he died betweenmidnightand2a.m.'

'Itispossible,yes,'saidthedetectiveinatroubledvoice.

Hewent back to the little table and examined the burnt bits of paper. 'Ineedaladies'hatbox!'hesaidsoftly.

BeforeDr Constantinewas able to askwhy, Poirot was in the corridor,callingfortheconductor.Theconductorsooncameinwithahatboxborrowedfromoneoftheladypassengers.

'Therearesomanycluesinthisroom,'Poirotexplainedtothedoctor,whowaslookingveryconfused. 'Thewatch,thepipecleaner, thehandkerchief.Buthowcanwebesure that theyarenotfalseclues, lefthere toconfuseus?Iamonlysureoftwoclues-thematchandtheburntpaper.Themurdererdidn'twantustoreadthewordsonthatpaper.Letussee.'

Fromthehatbox,Poirottookoneofthepiecesofshapedwirenettingoverwhichahatwouldnormallysit.Heflattenedit, thencarefullyplacedtheburntpiecesofpaperontopandcoveredthemwithanotherpieceofwirenetting.Helitamatchandheldthewireovertheflame.Thedoctorwatchedwithinterestas,slowly,somewordsappeared-wordsoffire.'-memberlittleDaisyArmstrong.'

'Ah!'criedPoirot.'SoRatchettwasnotthedeadman'srealname.Wenowknowhisname,andwhyheleftAmerica.'

'Wedo?'askedthedoctor.

'Yes.WemustgoandtellM.Bouc.'

The twomen foundM.Bouc finishing lunch in his compartment. 'Afterlunch,wewillemptytherestaurantcarriageanduseitforyourinterviews,'M.Boucsaid.'Ihaveorderedsomefoodforyouhere.'

Thedoctorandthedetectiveatequickly.M.Boucwaiteduntiltheircoffeehadbeenserved,thenasked,'Well?'

'Iknowtherealnameofthemurderedman,'saidPoirot.'HewasCassetti.DoyouremembertheArmstrongcase?'

'Yes, I think I do,' answeredM. Bouc. 'A terrible business - although Icannotrememberthedetails.'

'Colonel Armstrong was an Englishman, married to the daughter of

America'smostfamousactress,LindaArden.TheywerelivinginAmericawhentheir three-year-old daughter was kidnapped. After messages from thekidnappers, theparentspaid themmore than twohundred thousanddollars forher return.But instead, the child's dead bodywas discovered.MrsArmstrongwascarryinganotherbabyat the time,and theshockofherdaughter'smurdermade her give birth too soon. She and the baby both died. The heartbrokenhusbandthenshothimself.'

'Yes,Iremembernow,'M.Boucsaidsoftly. 'Andtherewasanotherdeathtoo,wasn'tthere?'

'A French or Swiss girl who worked for the Armstrongs. The policebelieved thatshehadhelped thekidnappers,althoughshestronglydenied this.Shethrewherselfoutofawindow.Later,itwasprovedthatshewascompletelyinnocent.'

'Terrible!'saidthedoctor.

'About sixmonths after these events, the police caughtCassetti.Hewasthe leader of a team of gangsters who had kidnapped and killed people in asimilar way before. There was no doubt that he was guilty of the Armstrongkidnap too. But Cassetti was very rich, and he used his money to escapepunishment for his crimes.After the court case, he disappeared.And nowweknow where he went. He changed his name to Ratchett and began travellingabroad.'

'Whatananimal!'criedM.Bouc.'Hegotwhathedeserved.'

'I agree,' said M. Poirot. 'But was the murderer another gangster, orsomeoneconnectedtoDaisyArmstrong?'

'ArethereanymembersoftheArmstrongfamilyliving?'

'I don't know,' replied the detective. 'I seem to remember that MrsArmstronghadayoungersister.'

Therewasaknockat thedoor. 'The restaurantcarriage is ready foryou,Monsieur,'saidthewaitertoM.Bouc.

Thethreemenwalkeddownthecorridortobegintheinterviews.

CHAPTERTHREE

ARedDressingGownandaMetalButton

In the restaurantcarriage, everythingwas ready - apileofpassportsandtickets,aplanofthecarriagewiththenamesofthepassengersmarkedonit,andwritingpaper,apenandink.

'Excellent,'saidPoirot.'Ourfirstinterviewwillbewiththeconductor.Youprobablyknowsomethingabouthischaracter,M.Bouc.Shouldwebelievehisevidence?'

'Definitely,' repliedM.Bouc. 'PierreMichelhasworkedfor thecompanyfor fifteenyears.AFrenchman -veryhonest.'Michel entered thecarriage.Heseemedlessupsetthanhehadbeenearlier,buthewasstillverynervous.

'Now,Michel,' saidM. Poirot gently, 'we have to ask you a few thingsaboutlastnight.M.Ratchettwenttobed-when?'

'Soonafterdinner,Monsieur-beforeweleftBelgrade.'

'Didyouseeanyonegointohiscompartmentafterwards?'

'Hismanservant,Monsieur,andhissecretary.Nooneelse.'

'Andwasthatthelasttimeyousaworheardfromhim?'

'No,Monsieur.Heranghisbellatabouttwentytoone.Iknocked,buthecalledout,'Cen'estrieti.Jemesuistrompe.'

'Andwherewereyouataquarterpastone?'

'MostofthetimeIwasatmyseatattheendofthecorridor.Soonafterone-Idon'tknowwhenexactly-Iwenttothenextcarriagetotalktoacolleagueaboutthesnow.ThenMrsHubbardrang,andIspoketoherforafewminutes.ThenIbroughtyousomewater,Monsieur.'

'Andlater?'

'At about two o'clock M. MacQueen asked me to make his bed. TheEnglishColonel fromnumber15was therewithhim.When theyhadgone tobed,Isatatmyseatuntilmorning.'

'Didyousleep?'

'Idon'tthinkso,Monsieur.'

'Didyouseeanyofthepassengersinthecorridor?'

Theconductorthoughtforamoment.'Oneoftheladieswenttothetoilet.'

'Whichone?'

'Idon'tknow,butshewaswearingareddressinggown.IthadaChinese-stylepictureontheback.'

'Andafterthat?'

'Youyourselfopenedthedoorandlookedoutforasecond.'

'Good,'saidPoirot. 'Iwondered ifyouwouldremember that.Now, if themurderercameontothetrainlastnight-'

'Therewerenostrangersonthetrainlastnight,Monsieur.Thedoortothenextcarriagewasboltedontheinside.IopenedthesidedoorwhenwestoppedatVincovciattwentypasttwelve,butIwasstandingthereallthetime.Noonecamethroughit.'

'Whataboutthesidedoorbeyondtherestaurantcarriage?'

'Thatisalwaysboltedontheinsideatnight.'

'Itisn'tboltednow.'

Theman looked surprised for amoment. 'Perhaps oneof the passengersopenedittolookatthesnow,'hesaidfinally.'Monsieur,youdonotblameme?'

Poirot smiled at him kindly. 'Of course not, my friend. Ah! I have oneotherthingtoaskyou.AnotherbellrangjustafteryouknockedonM.Ratchett'sdoor.Whosewasit?'

'PrincessDragomiroff's,Monsieur.Shewantedhermaid.'

'Youcalledthemaid?'

'Yes,Monsieur.'

'Thatisall.Thankyouforyourhelp.'

TheconductorlefttherestaurantcarriageandPoirotcalledMrMacQueenforanotherinterview.

WhenMacQueenlearntthathisemployerhadbeenthecriminalCassetti,hewasveryangry.'HowterriblethatIhelpedanevilmanlikethat!'hecried.

'Youseemtofeelverystronglyaboutthis,M.MacQueen.'

'Yes, I do.My father was on the legal team in the Armstrong case. HeknewthatCassettiwasguilty,butthingswentwrongincourtanditcouldn'tbeproved.Well, I'm glad that he's dead - although I didn't kill himmyself, youunderstand.'

'Ofcourse,ofcourse.Now, Imustcheck themovementsofeveryoneonthetrain.Whatdidyoudolastnightafterdinner?'

'Well,Italkedtosomeoftheotherpassengers.Ataboutteno'clock,IwentintoMrRatchett'scompartmentandhe

askedmetowritesomelettersforhim.ThenIgotintoalongconversationwithColonelArbuthnot.'

'Doyouknowwhattimeyouwenttobed?'

'Abouttwoo'clock,Ithink.'

'Didyouleavethetrainatanytime?'

'ArbuthnotandIgotoutat-whatwasthenameoftheplace?-Vincovci.Butitwasbitterlycold,sowesooncamebackin.'

'Bywhichdoordidyouleavethetrain?'

'Bytheonenexttotherestaurantcarriage.'

'Doyourememberifitwasbolted?'

MacQueenstoppedtothink.'Yes,Ibelieveitwas.'

'Anddidyouboltitagainwhenyougotbackonthetrain?'

'Igotonlast,andno,Idon'tthink1boltedit.'

'When you were with Colonel Arbuthnot,' continued the detective, 'thedoorofyourcompartmentwasopen, I think.Please tellmewhopassedalongthecorridorafterthetrainleftVincovci.'

'Theconductor-andawomantoo,goingtowardstherestaurantcarriage.'

'Whichwoman?'

'Idon'tknow. I just remember seeinga thin reddressinggown.Shewasprobablygoingtothetoilet.'

'Didyouseeherreturn?'

'Well,no,Idon'trememberseeingher.'

'Onemorequestion.Doyousmokeapipe?'

'No,sir,Idon't,'repliedMacQueen.

'Ithinkthatisallatpresent.Thankyouforyourtime.IwouldnowliketospeaktoM.Ratchett'smanservant.'

The American left and the thin, pale Englishman arrived. The detectivepickeduphispassport.

'Youare themanservantofM.Ratchett -EdwardHenryMasterman,agethirty-nine,aBritishcitizen?'

'Yes,sir.'

'Youhaveheardthatyouremployerhasbeenmurdered?'

'Yes,sir.Aterriblecrime.'

'PleasetellmewhenyoulastsawM.Ratchett.'

'Itwasataboutnineo'clocklastnight,sir.IwenttoMrRatchettasusual,andhelpedhimtogetreadyforbed.'

'Whatsortofmoodwashein?'

'Not a good one, sir. He had just read a letter and I think hewas upsetaboutit.HecriticisedeverythingthatIdid.'

'Wasthatunusual?'

'No,sir.Helosthistempereasily.'

'Did M. Ratchett ever take any medicine to help him sleep?' DrConstantinemovedforwardalittletohearhisanswer.'Always,sir,whenhewastravelling.Hesaidthathecouldnotsleepwithoutit.'

'Didhetakeitlastnight?'

'Yes,sir.Ipoureditintoaglassforhimmyself.'

'Didyoulikeyouremployer,M.Masterman?'

Themanservant'sfaceshowednoemotion.'Hepaidmewell,sir-butI'mnotveryfondofAmericans.'

'HaveyoueverbeentoAmerica?'

'No,sir.'

'AndwhatdidyoudoafterleavingM.Ratchettlastnight?'

'I toldMrMacQueen that hewaswanted.Then Iwent back tomyowncompartmentandread.'

'Youwereincompartmentnumber4.'

'Yes,sir,withabigItalianman.'

'DoestheItalianspeakEnglish?'

'Well,akindofEnglish,sir.He'sbeeninAmerica-Chicago,Iunderstand.Wedonottalkmuch.Iprefertoread.'

'Whattimedidyougotosleep?'

'Iwenttobedatabouttenthirty,sir,butIdidn'tsleep.Ihadtoothache.'

'Didyounotsleepatall?'

'Yes,intheend.Butnotuntilaboutfourinthemorning.'

'Didyouleaveyourcompartmentduringthenight?'

'No,sir.'

'AndtheItalian?'

'No,sir.Hesleptallnight.'

'Onelastquestion.Doyousmokeapipe?'

'No,sir.Ionlysmokecigarettes.'

'Thankyou,MrMasterman.Ithinkthatisall.'

'Excuseme,sir,buttheAmericanlady,MrsHubbard,sayssheknowsallaboutthemurderer.Sheisveryupset,sir.'

'Thenweshouldseehernext,I think,'saidPoirot,smiling.MrsHubbardentered the restaurant carriage talking excitedly. 'Now who's in charge here,becauseIhavesomeveryimportantinformation.Veryimportant.'

'Please,Madame,sit,'saidPoirot.'Thentellmeeverything.'

'Well,Iwill tellyouthis.Therewasamurderonthetrainlastnight,andthemurdererwasinmycompartment!'

'Youaresureofthis,Madame?'

'Ofcourse I'msure! Iwasasleep,andsuddenly Iwokeup. Itwasdark -andIknewthattherewasamaninmycompartment.IwassofrightenedthatIcouldn't scream. I thought, "I'm going to be killed!" Itwas so terrible - thesenasty trains, and thehorrible things thathappenon them!And then I thought,"Well,hewon'tgetmyjewellery,"becauseI'dhiddenitundermypillow.Veryuncomfortable,Icantellyou.Butthat'snotimportant.WherewasI?'

'Yourealisedthattherewasamaninyourcompartment.'

'Yes,well,Ijustlaytherewithmyeyesclosedforsometime.ThenIfeltforthebellwithmyhandandpressedit tocall theconductor.Irangandrang,but nothing happened. "Maybe they've alreadymurdered everyone else on thetrain,"Ithought.Thenfinallytheconductorcamein.Iswitchedonthelights,but

therewasn'tanyonethereatall.'

JudgingbyMrsHubbard'svoice,shethoughtthatherlastwordswerethemostexcitingpartofherstory.

'Andwhathappenednext,Madame?'

'Well, I told the conductor what had happened, and he didn't seem tobelieveme. Clearly theman had got away, but the conductor onlywanted tocalmmedown!Well,at thetimeIwasworriedthatthemanwastheonefromthenext-doorcompartment. I asked theconductor to lookat thedoorbetweenthecompartments,andofcourseitwasn'tbolted.Well,Ibolteditimmediately,andputasuitcaseagainstittoo.'

'Anddoyou think theman inyourcompartmentwent intoMrRatchett'scompartment,oroutintothecorridor?'

'How could I know that?My eyes were tight shut. Oh, if my daughterknewhowfrightenedIwas!'

'Perhaps,Madame,youheardsomeonenotinyourowncompartmentbutinthecompartmentofthemurderedman.'

'Certainlynot!AndIcanproveit!'

Fromherhandbag,sheproducedasmallmetalbutton.

'Youseethis?Ifounditthismorninginmycompartment.'Assheplacedthe button on the table, M. Bouc cried, 'This is a button from a conductor'suniform!'

'It probably fell off Michel's uniform when he was helping MadameHubbardlastnight,'saidPoirot.

'Why don't you people believe me?' cried the American woman. 'AtbedtimelastnightIwasreadingamagazine.WhenIswitchedoffthelight,Iputthemagazineonthefloornearthewindow.Lastnight,afterthemanhadbeeninmyroom,theconductorwentnowherenearthewindow,butinthemorningthebuttonwasontopofthemagazine.Whatdoyoucallthat?'

'Icallthatevidence,Madame,'repliedthedetectiveseriously.'Now,canIaskyouafewquestions?'

'Ofcourse,'saidMrsHubbard.

'You were nervous of this man Ratchett. So why had you not alreadyboltedthedoorbetweenthecompartments?'

'Ihad.Oratleast,IhadaskedthatSwedishladyifitwasbolted,andshehadsaidthatitwas.'

'Whycouldn'tyouseeforyourself?'

'Iwasinbedandmyspongebagwashangingonthedoorhandle.'

'Whenwasthis?'

'Abouthalfpastten,Ithink.TheSwedishladyhadcometoaskmeforanaspirin.'

'DoyourememberthecaseoftheArmstrongkidnap?'

'OfcourseIdo.Ididn'tknowtheArmstrongspersonally.TheymovedinhighersocietythanI.ButI'vealwaysheardthattheywerealovelycouple.Oh,thatevilmanCassetti-'

'RatchettwasCassetti,'saidPoirot.

'Cassetti,onthistrain!Ican'tbelieveit!Imusttellmydaughter.'

'Now,Madame,justonemorething.Doyouhaveareddressinggown?'

'Whatanoddquestion!No,Idon't.'

Poirothelpedhertowardsthedoor.Atthelastmomenthesaid,'Youhavedroppedyourhandkerchief,Madame.'

She looked at the little piece ofmaterial that hewas holding out to her.'Thatisn'tmine.It'smuchtoosmall-mineareasensiblesize.'

'Ah!'saidthedetective.'IthadanHonit.Ithoughtitmustbeyours.'

CHAPTERFOUR

AnOpenDoor

AsMrsHubbard left,M.Boucsaidanxiously, 'Ihope thisbuttondoesn'tmeanthatPierreMichelisthemurderer.'

'Thatbutton is interesting,' saidPoirot. 'But let us interview theSwedishladybeforewediscussit.'Helookedthroughthepileofpassports.'Hereweare.GretaOhlsson, age forty-nine.'M.Boucasked thewaiter to inviteher in.Thewomanwithasheep-likefaceandfairhairentered.Shelookedquitecalm.'Youknowwhathappenedlastnight?'askedPoirot.

'Yes.Itisterrible,'shereplied.

'Youwillunderstand,Mademoiselle, thatImustaskeveryoneabout theirmovementslastnightafterdinner.'

'Ofcourse.Well,Ispentmostoftheeveninginmycompartment,butIdidgotoseetheAmericanlady,MrsHubbard.Shegavemesomeaspirin.'

'Didsheaskif thedoorbetweenhercompartmentandMrRatchett'swasbolted?'

'Yes,shedid.Anditwas.'

'Andafterthat?'

'Iwentbacktomybed,tooktheaspirinandfellasleep.'

'Yourcompartmentisthisone?'Hepointedtotheplan.

'Yes,Ithinkso.IamsharingwithayoungEnglishlady.Verynice.ShehastravelledfromBaghdad.'

'Didsheleavethecompartmentduringthenight?'

'No,Iamsureshedidnot.'

'Whyareyousureifyouwereasleep?'

'Iwakeveryeasily.Shewassleepinginthebedabovemine.

Ialwaysnoticewhenshecomesdown.'

'Didyouleavethecompartment?'

'Notuntilthismorning.'

'Doyouhaveareddressinggown?'

'No,Idonot.Mineisbrown.'

'HaveyoueverbeentoAmerica,Mademoiselle?'

'Sadly,no.IliketheAmericans.TheygivealotofmoneytoschoolsandhospitalsinTurkey.Whydoyouask?'

Poirot explained about the Armstrong case. Greta Ohlsson left theinterviewroomshakingherheadandcrying,'Howcantherebesuchevilintheworld?'

Poirot spent some time writing notes. 'The conductor said that MrsHubbard'sbellrangsometimeafter1a.m.'

'Yes,itseemsquiteclearthatthemurderhappenedat1.15,'saidM.Bouc.'That fits the evidence of thewatch and the stories of the conductor andMrsHubbard. And I think I can guess who the murderer is. It is the big Italian.Italians always kill with a knife, and this one has lived in America. He andRatchett probablyworked in this kidnapping business together. Then Ratchettcheatedhim.TheItalianwantedrevenge.Hesentthreateninglettersandthenhekilledhim.Verysimple.'

'Simple except for themanservantwith the toothache,who says that theItalianneverleftthecompartment,'saidPoirot.

'Yes, that is a difficulty, but it will all be explained,' said M. Boucconfidently.

Thedetectiveshookhishead.'No,itisnotassimpleasthat,Ifear.ButletushearwhatPierreMichelcantellusaboutthisbutton.'

Theconductorwascalledandshownthebutton.

'It seems certain,' saidM. Bouc, 'that the murderer passed throughMrsHubbard'scompartmentanddropped thatbutton.'Michelwasveryupset. 'It isnotmine,Monsieur!Look -myuniformhas lostnobuttons. I am innocentofthiscrime!'

'WherewereyouwhenMrsHubbard'sbellrang?'

'Inthenextcarriage,Monsieur.Iwastalkingtoacolleague.'Thecolleaguewas called. His story agreed with Michel's. The buttons of all the otherconductors'uniformswerechecked,andnoneweremissing.

'Monsieur,doyouseenow?Iamnotguilty!'criedMichel.'Calmyourself,Michel,'saidM.Bouc.'Thinkbacktolast

night.WhenyourantoanswerMrsHubbard'sbell,didyouseeanyoneinthecorridor?'

'No,Monsieur.'

'Thatisnosurprise,'saidPoirot.'MrsHubbardlaywithhereyesclosedforsome time after she realised that therewas someone in her compartment.Themanprobablywentoutthen.Ifthemurdererwasoneofthepassengers,hehadtimetogetbacktohisowncompartmentbeforeMichelarrived.'

'Westillhaveeightpassengers to interview,' saidM.Bouc. 'ShallweseetheItaliannext?'

'You think only of your Italian!' laughed Poirot. 'No, we will see thePrincess first. Michel, could you ask her to come in?' Princess Dragomirofflookedevenuglierthanthedaybefore,butintelligenceandenergyshonefromhersmall,darkeyes.

AsM. Bouc apologised for troubling her, she stopped him in her deep,clearvoice.'Murderisaseriousmatter,Monsieur.IamhappytohelpyouinanywaythatIcan.'

'Thankyou,Madame,'saidPoirot. 'YouarePrincessNataliaDragomiroff,travellingtoyourhomeinParis?'

'Yes.Mymaidiswithme.'

'Pleasecouldyoutellusyourmovementslastnightafterdinner?'

'Willingly. Iwent tobed straight after themeal. I readuntil eleven, thenturnedoutthelight.IwasunabletosleepbecauseofpainsthatIoftenhaveinmylegs.AtaboutaquartertooneIrangformymaid.ShereadtomeuntilIfeltsleepy.Iamnotsureexactlywhensheleftme.Afterhalfanhour,perhaps.'

'YouhavebeeninAmerica,Isuppose,Madame?'

Thesuddenchangeofsubjectsurprisedtheoldlady.

'Manytimes.'

'DidyouatanytimemeetafamilycalledArmstrong?'

Her voice shook as she said, 'If youmeanSonia andRobertArmstrong,thenyes.Soniawasmygoddaughter.Hermother,

theactressLindaArden,wasaclosefriendofmine.'

'LindaArdenisdeadnow?'

'Sheisalive,butsheseesnoone.Herhealthisverypoor.'

'Therewas,Ithink,aseconddaughter?'

'Yes,muchyoungerthanMrsArmstrong.'

'Whereisshenow?'

The old woman looked at him in surprise. 'What connection do thesequestionshavewiththemurderonthistrain?'

'The murdered man was responsible for the kidnap and murder of MrsArmstrong'schild.'

'Ah!'PrincessDragomiroffsatstraighterinherchair.'Thenthismurderisaveryhappyevent.Youwillexcusemystrongopiniononthesubject.'

'Ofcourse,Madame.Nowwemustreturntomyearlierquestion.WhereistheyoungerdaughterofLindaArden?'

'Ihonestlycannottellyou,Monsieur.Ihavelostcontactwithher.IbelieveshemarriedanEnglishmansomeyearsago,butI'mafraidIcannotrememberhisname.' She paused for a minute and then said, 'Is there anything else,gentlemen?'

'Justonething,Madame.Thecolourofyourdressinggown.'

'Isupposeyouhaveagoodreasonforaskingthis.Itisblue.'

'Thatisall.Thankyouforyourhelp.'

CountandCountessAndrenyiwerecallednext,buttheCountenteredtherestaurantcarriagealone.

Hewas a fine-lookingman - tall,well-built,with a longmoustache anddressedinanexpensiveEnglishsuit.

'Well,gentlemen,'hesaid,'whatcanIdoforyou?'

'Asyouknow,'saidPoirot,'therewasamurderherelastnight,andImustaskcertainquestionsofthepassengers.'

'Ofcourse.Iamafraid,though,thatmywifeandIwereasleepandheardnothingatall.'

'Doyouknowwhowasmurdered,Monsieur?'

'ThebigAmerican,Iunderstand.'

'Yes.HisnamewasCassetti.HewasresponsibleforsometerriblecrimesinAmerica.'

The Count showed no sign of emotion at this news. 'That explains hismurder,Isuppose,'hesaid.

'YouhavebeentoAmericaperhaps,Monsieur?'

'IwasinWashingtonforayear.'

'DidyouknowtheArmstrongfamily?'

'Armstrong-Armstrong-itisdifficulttoremember.Thereweresomanynames.'Hesmiled.'Butreturningtothemurder,gentleman,whatmorecanIdotohelpyou?'

'Whendidyougotobedlastnight,Monsieur?'

'Atabouteleveno'clock.Webothsleptuntilmorningandnoticednothing.Iamsorrywecannothelpyouinanyway.'

'Thankyou,Monsieur.'

'Youwon'tneedtospeaktomywife.ShecantellyounothingmorethanIhave.'

Poirot'sexpressionchangedslightly.'Iamsurethatistrue,'hesaid.'ButImusthavealittletalkwiththeCountess.'

'Itisquiteunnecessary,'saidtheCount.

'I'mafraiditisnecessary-formyreport,youunderstand.'

'Asyouwish,'hesaid,andwenttotellher.

PoirotlookedattheCount'spassport.Travellingwithwife,heread.

Name:ElenaMariaAndrenyiSurnamebeforemarriage:GoldenbergAge:20

Aninkspothadbeendroppedonthepagebyacarelessofficial.CountessAndrenyientered therestaurantcarriage. 'Youwish toseeme,gentlemen?'sheaskedinperfectFrench.

'Thankyou,Countess,' saidPoirot. 'Ionlyneed toaskyou ifyousaworheardanythingunusuallastnight.'

'No,nothing.Ihadtakenmedicinetohelpmesleep.'

'DidyougowithyourhusbandtoAmerica,Madame?'

'No,Monsieur.Wewerenotmarried then.Wehaveonlybeenmarried ayear.'Shesmiledshyly.Withherbig,darkeyesandbrightredlips,shelookedveryforeign-andverybeautiful.'Whydidyouaskmethat?'

'Detectives have to ask a lot of strange questions. For example, whatcolourisyourdressinggown?'

'Itisacreamcolour.Isthatimportant?'

'Veryimportant.Anddoesyourhusbandsmokeapipe?'

'No-cigarettes,butnotapipe.'

'DoyouspeakEnglish?'heaskedinthatlanguage.

'Ispeakalittle,yes.'Heraccentwasstrong,butveryattractive.'Andthatisall,'thedetectivesaid.'Yousee,Madame,itwasnotsoterrible.'

Shesmiledandwalkedoutofthecarriage.

'Thatwasnotveryuseful,'saidM.Bouc.'ShallweseetheItaliannow?'

Poirot did not reply for amoment.Hewas studying the ink spot on theHungarianpassport.FinallyhelookedatM.Bouc.'WewillleaveyourItalianforthe moment, my friend, and interview the good-looking Englishman, ColonelArbuthnot.'WhentheColonelarrived,Poirotsaid,'YouaretravellingfromIndiatoBritain,Ithink.Whyareyounotgoingbyboat?'

'Ichosetotaketheoverlandrouteforreasonsofmyown,'saidtheColonelunhelpfully.

'Isee.YoucamestraightthroughfromIndia?'

'IstoppedforthreedaysinBaghdadtovisitanoldfriend.'

'YoumettheyoungEnglishladythere,perhaps-MissDebenham?'

'No,Ididnot.IfirstmetMissDebenhamonthetrain.'

'Wethink thatM.Ratchettwasmurderedataquarterpastone lastnight.Whatwereyoudoingatthattime?'

'IwastalkingtotheyoungAmerican-thedeadman'ssecretary.Wewereinhiscompartment.'

'DidyouknowM.MacQueenbeforethisjourney?'

'No.Westartedtalkingyesterdayandweenjoyedeachother'scompany.Idon't usually likeAmericans, but I likeMacQueen.We had a long discussionaboutIndia,andAmerica,andtheworldingeneral.IwasquitesurprisedwhenIlookedatmywatchandfoundthatitwasaquartertotwo.'

'Thatisthetimethatyoustoppedthisconversation?'

'Yes.'

'Whatdidyoudothen?'

'Iwalkedbacktomyowncompartmentandwenttobed.'

'Now, Colonel, I want you to think back to your conversation with M.MacQueen.YougotoutatVincovci?'

'Yes,butonlyforaboutaminute.Itwassnowingveryhard.'

'So you came back in. You sat down again. You smoked - perhaps acigarette, perhaps apipeHepaused for amoment. 'Apipe forme.MacQueensmokedcigarettes.'

'Thetrainstartedagain.Didanyonepassthedoorafterthat?'

'Idon'trememberanyoneexcepttheconductor.Waitaminute-therewasawomantoo,Ithink.Shewaswearingsomethingred.'

'Thankyou.HaveyoueverbeeninAmerica,Colonel?'

'Never.Ihavenointerestingoingthere.'

'DidyoueverknowaColonelArmstrong?'

'Armstrong -Armstrong - I've known two or threeArmstrongs.Do youmeanSelbyArmstrong?OrTommy?'

'ImeanColonelRobertArmstrong,whomarriedanAmericanandwhoseonlychildwaskidnappedandkilled.'

'Ah,Irememberreadingaboutthat.ButIdidn'tknowhim.'

'Themurderedmanwasresponsibleforthatkidnap.'

'Really?Thenhedeserved todie -although it'sapity that itwasn'tdonelegally,throughthecourts,ofcourse.Youcan'tgoaroundmurderingpeopleoutofrevenge,likeCorsicans.'

Poirot looked at the Colonel thoughtfully. 'I have no more questions -unless you noticed anything unusual last night?' Arbuthnot thought for amoment.'No,'hesaid.'Nothing.Unless-'Hepaused.

'Yes?'saidthedetective.

'Well,it'snothingreally.ButwhenIgotbacktomycompartment,Inoticedthatthedooroftheendcompartment-'

'Number16?'

'Yes, thedoor to itwasnotquiteclosed.Theman inside lookedout inasecretiveway,thenquicklyclosedthedoor.Itseemedabitstrange.'

'Yes,'saidPoirotdoubtfully.

When the soldierhad left the carriage,Poirot stared into space for sometime. Then he said, 'Colonel Arbuthnot smokes a pipe. In M. Ratchett'scompartmentIfoundapipecleaner.'

'Youthink-?'beganM.Bouc.

'HewasalsointhesamearmyasColonelArmstrong.Hesaidthathedidnotknowhim,butperhapsthatwasalie.'

'Soitispossiblethat-?'

Poirot shookhisheadangrily. 'No, it is impossible that thisEnglishman,whobelievesinlawandorder,couldpushaknifeintohisenemytwelvetimes.'

CHAPTERFIVE

TheManwithaWoman'sVoice

The detective's thoughts turned to the next interview. 'The American incompartment16,Ithink.'

TheAmericansooncamein,wearingabrightlycolouredsuitandapinkshirt.Hehadawide,friendlyface.

'Goodmorning,gentlemen,'hesaid.'WhatcanIdoforyou?'

'Youhaveheardofthismurder,Mr-er-Hardman?'

'Yes.'

'Weareinterviewingallthepassengers.Youare-'Poirotlookedquicklyatthepassport infrontofhim. '-forty-oneyearsofage,andasalesmanofofficemachines?'

'Yes,that'sme.'

'Youaretravellingforbusinessreasons?'

'That'sright.'

'Canyoutellusanythingabouttheeventsoflastnight?'

'Nothingatall.Sorry.'

'Ah,thatisapity.Perhaps,MrHardman,youwilltellusexactlywhatyoudidafterdinnerlastnight?'

Hardmanpaused,thensaid,'Excuseme,butwhoareyouexactly?'

'I amHerculePoirot. Ihavebeenhiredby theCompagnie InternationaledesWagonsLitstosolvethiscrime.'

'I'veheardofyou,'saidMrHardman.Hethoughtfora

minutemore,thensaid,'IsupposeIshouldbehonest.'

'Youshouldcertainlytellusallthatyouknow,'saidPoirot.

The American now spoke in a different voice - in fact, he seemed acompletelydifferentperson.'Well,asIsaid,Idon'tknowanything.ButIshouldknowsomething.'

'Pleaseexplain,MrHardman.'

'Someoftheinformationinmypassportisfalse.ThisiswhoIreallyam.'Heproducedacardfromhispocket.

MrCYRUSB.HARDMAN

McNeil'sPrivateDetectives

NewYork

Poirot knew the name of the company. McNeil's had an excellentreputation.

'I'dgone to Istanbulafteracoupleofcriminals -noconnectionwith thisbusiness. Iwas planningmy journey home toNewYorkwhen I got this.'Hepushedacrossaletter.

DearSir,

Iunderstandthatyouareaprivatedetective.Pleasecometomyroomsatfouro'clockthisafternoon.

ItwaswrittenonnotepaperfromtheTokatlianHotel inIstanbulandwassigned'S.E.Ratchett'.

'IwenttoseeRatchett,andheshowedmesomethreateninglettersthathehad received. He hired me for protection on his journey west. Well, myprotectionwasn'tverygood,wasit?'

'Howhadyouhopedtoprotecthim?'

'I had planned to travel in the next-door compartment, but itwas taken.Number16was inagoodposition, though.Noonecould reachMrRatchett'scompartmentwithoutpassingmine.'

'Youhadnoidea,Isuppose,whothepossibleattackerwas?'

'Well,Iknewwhathelookedlike.MrRatchettdescribedhimtome.'

'What?'Histhreelistenersalmostjumpedoutoftheirseats.

Hardmancontinued.'Asmallman,dark,withahighvoice

likeawoman's.That'showRatchettdescribedhim.'

'DidyouknowthatRatchettwasCassetti,theArmstrongmurderer?'

MrHardmanlookedshocked. 'No,Ididn'trecognisehim.I'dseenphotosofCassettiinthepapers,Isuppose,butIwouldn'trecognisemyownmotherinoneofthosephotos.'

'Please,M.Hardman,continueyourstory.'

'There'snotmuchtotell.Isleptinthedayandstayedawakewatchingthecorridoratnight.Nothinghappened the firstnightand I thought thesamewastruelastnight.Nostrangerpassed.'

'Youaresureofthat,M.Hardman?'

'Yes,Iam.I'mcertain.'

'ThenIthinkwehavefinished.Thankyou.'PoirotofferedtheAmericanacigarette.'Butperhapsyoupreferapipe?'

'Not me. It was nice to meet you, Mr Poirot.' He took a cigarette andwalkedaway.

Thethreemenlookedateachother.

'A small man, dark, with a high voice like a woman's,' said M. Boucthoughtfully.

'Adescriptionwhichfitsnooneonthetrain,'saidPoirot.Hepaused,thensaid with a smile, 'And now we will makeM. Bouc happy.We will see theItalian.'

A man with dark skin and a pleasant, cheerful face was soon walkingacrosstherestaurantcarriagetowardsthem.

'YournameisAntonioFoscarelli,fromItaly?'

'Yes,Monsieur,butIhavebecomeanAmericancitizen.Itisbetterformybusiness.'Hesmiled.

'YousellFordmotorcars?'

'Yes,yousee-'

A long explanation of Foscarelli's business methods followed, beforePoirotcouldcontinuehisquestions. 'SoyouhavelivedintheUnitedStatesforthelasttenyears?'

'Yes,Monsieur.IrememberthedaythatIleft.Mymother-'

Poirotinterruptedhim.'DidyouevermeetMrRatchettinAmerica?'

'No, but I met many people like him. On the outside, very polite, verywell-dressed,butunderneath-evil.Inmyopinion,Ratchettwasacriminal.'

'Youropinioniscorrect,'saidPoirot.'RatchettwasCassetti,thekidnapper.'

'WhatdidItellyou?Iamgoodatreadingpeople'sfaces.Itisimportantinmywork.'

'YouremembertheArmstrongcase?'

'Not verywell. It was a little girl, wasn't it? A terrible crime, but thesethingshappen,eveninagreatcountrylikeAmerica.'

'DidyouevermeetanymembersoftheArmstrongfamily?'

'Idon'tthinkso,butitisdifficulttosay.LastyearaloneIsoldcarsto-'

Poirot interruptedhimagain. 'Monsieur,please tellmewhatyoudid lastnightafterdinner.'

'Withpleasure.Iwentbacktomycompartment.AnEnglishservantsharesthe compartment withme but hewas out. Then he came back, but hewasn'tinterestedintalking."Yes","No"-nothingelse.Hewasveryunfriendly.HereadhisbookandIreadmine.Ismokedacigaretteortwo.Hehadtoothache,andhewasmakingalotofnoiseaboutit.Iwenttosleep,butIwokeupafewtimestothesoundofhiscomplaining.'

'Didheleavethecompartmentatallduringthenight?'

'Idon'tthinkso.Whenthedooropens,thelightfromthecorridorcomesinverybrightlyandwakesyouup.'

Withwordsofthanks,Poirotbroughttheinterviewtoanend.'Well,hehasbeen in America for a long time,' saidM. Bouc when Foscarelli had left thecarriage.'HeisItalian-Italiansaregoodatlyingandloveusingknives.Idon'tlikeItalians.'

'That is very clear,' smiled Poirot. 'But there is no evidence against thisman.Italiansuseknives,yes,butinafight,when

theyareangry.Thismurderwasverycarefullyplanned.'

He picked up the last two passports. 'Let us seeMissMary Debenhamnext.'

MissDebenhamentered the restaurantcarriagecalmly,dressed ina littleblacksuit.ShesatdownoppositePoirot.

'Your name isMaryHermioneDebenham, you areEnglish, and you aretwenty-sixyearsold?'beganPoirot.

'Yes.'

'Now,MissDebenham,whatcanyoutellusaboutlastnight'sevents?'

'Nothing,I'mafraid.Iwenttobedandslept.'

Poirot looked at her thoughtfully. 'You are travelling from Baghdad toLondon,Ibelieve.'

'Yes.'

'WhathaveyoubeendoinginBaghdad?'

'Ihavebeenworkingasgovernesstotwochildren.'

'HaveyoueverbeentoAmerica?'

'America?No,never.'

'What is your opinion of the ladywho shares your compartment -MissOhlsson?'

'Sheseemsapleasant,simpleperson.'

'Whatcolourisherdressinggown?'

MaryDebenhamlookedsurprised.'Abrowncolour.'

'AndInoticedyourdressinggownon the train toIstanbul. It ispurple, Ibelieve.'

'Yes,thatisright.'

'Haveyougotanyotherdressinggown,MissDebenham?Aredone, forexample?'

'No,thatisnotmine.'

Thedetectivemovedforwardquickly,likeacatjumpingonamouse.

'Notyours?Soyouknowthatthereddressinggownbelongstosomeoneelse!Whoseisit?'

The girlmoved back, a little shocked. 'I don't know,' she replied. 'I sawsomeonewearingitlastnightinthecorridor,butIdidn'tseeherface.'

'Wasshetallorshort?Fairordark?'

Shehadahaton,soIcouldn'tseeherhair.Butshewastallandthin.ItwasaChinese-styledressinggown.'

Yes, that'sright,Chinese.'Thedetectivewassilentforaminute.Thenhesaidtohimself,'Icannotunderstand.Noneofthismakessense.'Lookingup,hesaidtoMissDebenham,'Wedonotneedyouanymore.Youcango.'

Whenshehad left,M.Boucstaredathis friendwithaconfused lookonhisface.'Youthinksheisguilty,don'tyou?'hesaidslowly.'Butwhy?Sheseemsaverypleasantyounglady-thelastpersonintheworldtobeamurderer.'

'I agree,' said Constantine. 'She is a very calm person. She would notmurderherenemy.Shewouldtakehimtocourt.'

'There is an unemotional, intelligent brain behind this crime. MissDebenhamfitsthedescriptionofthemurdererexactly.'M.Boucshookhishead.'Youarewrong,myfriend.Thatyoungwomanisnotacriminal.'

'Ihaveanotherreasontothinkcarefullyabouther.IhavenotyettoldyouwhatIheardduringmyjourneytoIstanbul.'

HetoldthetwomenaboutMissDebenham'swordstoColonelArbuthnotontheplatformatKonya.

M.Bouc repeated thewords thoughtfully. '"Not now.When it's all over.When it's behind us." That is certainly strange. It suggests that she and theColonelarebothresponsible.'

'Yes, but there are other people who tell us that they could not be themurderers.ThestoriesoftheSwedishwomanandMrMacQueenseemtoprovethattheyarebothinnocent.No,thatsolutiondoesnotwork.Ahwell,'continuedthedetective,pickingupthelastpassport,'letusseeourlastpassenger-PrincessDragomiroff's German maid, Hildegarde Schmidt.' When the maid entered,Poirotaskedhergently,inGerman,abouthermovementsthenightbefore.

'Idonotknowanything,Monsieur,'shesaid.

'Your employer sent for you last night, I believe.Do you remember thetime?'

'No,Monsieur.Iwasasleepwhentheconductorcalledme.'

'Doyouoftengotoyouremployer'sroomatnight?'

'Itisnotunusual,Monsieur.Shedoesnotsleepwell.'

'Anddidyouputonyourdressinggowntogotohercompartment?'

'Thatwouldnotberight,Monsieur!Iputonmydayclothes.'

'Althoughitisaverynicedressinggown-red,Ithink?'

Shestaredathim.'Itisdarkblue,Monsieur!'

'Ah!Mymistake!So,youwent to thePrincess'scompartment.Whatdidyoudothere?'

'Ireadtoher.ThenIreturnedtomyowncompartmenttogetheranextrablanket,andfinallywentbacktobed.'

'Doyouknowwhattimethatwas?'

'No,Monsieur.'

'Andyoumetnooneinthecorridor?'

'No,Monsieur. There was nobody there except the conductor. Everyonewasasleep.'

'Butyoudidseetheconductor.Whatwashedoing?'

'Hecameoutofoneofthecompartments,Monsieur.'

M.Boucmovedforward.'Whichone,'heaskedurgently.Themaidlookedfrightened. 'One of the middle ones, Monsieur. Two or three doors from thePrincess's.'

'Pleasetellusexactlywhathappened.'

'HealmostranintomeasIwastakingtheblankettothePrincess.Thenheapologisedandcontinueddownthecorridor.Abellbeganringing,butIdonot

thinkheansweredit.'

'This poor conductor,' said Poirot. 'He had a busy night. First he had towakeyou.Thentherewasthatbell.'

'Hewasnottheconductorwhowokeme,Monsieur.Itwasanotherone.'

'Anotherone?Wouldyourecognisehimifyousawhimagain?'

'Ithinkso,Monsieur.'

PoirotwhisperedsomethinginM.Bouc'sear.M.Boucwenttothedoortogiveanorder.

'Have you ever been to America?' the detective continued. 'Never,Monsieur.Itmustbeafinecountry.'

He took a handkerchief from his pocket. 'Is this yours?' There was amoment'ssilenceasthewomanexaminedit.Herfacewentalittlered.'No,itisnotmine,'shereplied.

'IthastheletterH,yousee-forHildegarde.'

'Really, it is notmine. This is an expensive handkerchief,Monsieur, thehandkerchiefofafinelady.'

'Youdonotknowwhichfinelady?'

Poirotnoticedthattherewasaslightpausebeforeshe

answered,'I?Oh,no,Monsieur.'

M. Bouc now whispered in Poirot's ear. The detective said, 'The threeconductors are coming in,Mademoiselle. Please could you tellmewhich onealmost ran into you last night?' The three men entered. Hildegarde Schmidtlookedatthemandimmediatelyshookherhead.

'No,Monsieur.NoneoftheseisthemanthatIsawlastnight.Thesearealltall, bigmen. I saw a small, darkmanwith a littlemoustache.When he said"Excuseme",hisvoicewasweak, likeawoman's. I rememberhimverywell,

Monsieur.'

CHAPTERSIX

TheSpongeBag

'Asmalldarkmanwithahighvoice,'saidM.BoucwhentheconductorsandHildegardeSchmidthad left the carriage. 'That is theenemy thatRatchettdescribed!Butwhere is he now?He didn't leave the train, but he isn't on thetraineither.'

'Likeyou, Iamveryconfused,' saidPoirot. 'In thissituation, it isalwaysbesttoreturntothefactsthatwecanbesureabout.

'Factone:Ratchett, orCassetti,wasmurdered inhisbed last night,withtwelveknifewoundsinthechest.Fact two:hiswatchhadstoppedataquarterpastone-'

'So that gives us a definite time for the crime,' said M. Bouc. 'Notnecessarily,'saidthedetective.'Itispossiblethatthemurderhappenedearlierorlater thanthat time,andthat themurdererhasleftusthewatchasafalseclue.There is also the information from Dr Constantine, that at least two of thewoundsweremadesometimeafterRatchettwasalreadydead.'

'Andwhataboutthemanintheconductor'suniform?'askedM.Bouc.'Heisfactthree.'

'Not so fast, my friend. We must first examine the evidence carefully.Hardman,thedetective,spokeof thisman.Shouldwebelievehim?I thinkweshould, because his story - that he was hired by Ratchett - could easily bedisprovedbyaquickphonecall toMcNeil's inNewYork.Andwehaveotherevidencethathisstoryistrue,fromHildegardeSchmidt.Herdescriptionoftheman in the conductor's uniform matches Hardman's description exactly. AndthereisalsothebuttonfoundinMrsHubbard'scompartment.Sowehavethreeseparatepiecesofevidenceforthismanwiththehighvoice.'

'Yes,yes,myfriend,'saidM.Boucimpatiently.'Weallagreethatheexists.Butwheredidhego?'

'Perhapsheistwopeople.Imean,heisbothhimself-thesmall,darkmanfearedbyM.Ratchett - and apassengeron the train, looking sodifferent thatRatchettdidnotrecognisehim.'

'But themenon the trainareall tall,' saidM.Bouc, '-except theservantMasterman,andheisunlikelytobeourmurderer.'

'Themanmayactuallybeawoman,'saidPoirot. 'Thatwouldexplainthehighvoice.'

'But it would not explain the wounds that did not bleed,' said DrConstantine.'Wemustnotforgetthose.'

'Ihaveforgottennothing,Doctor,butIhavenotyetfoundthesolutionthatIamlookingfor.Perhapsthewomaninthereddressinggown,seenbyseveralpassengers including me, is our second murderer - the one who made thosewounds,Doctor.Ifwebelievethefemalepassengers,nobodyhasareddressinggown. So where is it now? And where is the conductor's uniform with themissingbutton?'

'Ah!' cried M. Bouc, jumping to his feet. 'We must search all thepassengers'luggage.'

M.Poirotstooduptoo. 'Icanguesswhereyouwill findtheuniform,'hesaid.'ItwillalmostcertainlybeinthecompartmentofHildegardeSchmidt.'

'How -' began M. Bouc, but he was interrupted by screams from thecorridor.ThedoorflewopenandMrsHubbardranin.

'It's toohorrible!' shecried. 'Inmyspongebag.Myspongebag!Agreatknife-withbloodalloverit.'

ThenshesuddenlyfellforwardsanddroppedheavilyintothearmsofM.Bouc.

M. Boucmoved the woman to a chair, with her head on the table, andfollowedPoirotoutofthedoor.

DrConstantinecalledforawaiter. 'Keepherheadlikethat,'hesaid,thenhurriedaftertheothertwo.

TherewasacrowdofpeopleoutsideMrsHubbard'scompartment,wantingto seewhat the screamswere about.Michel opened thedoor for thedetectiveandhistwofriends.'Theknifeisthere,Monsieur.Ihavenottouchedit.'Hangingon the handle of the door into the next compartmentwas a large sponge bag.Belowit,onthefloor,wasasharpknife,coveredindriedblood.Poirotpickeditupcarefully.

'What do you think, Doctor? Did this knife kill Ratchett?' Constantine'sexaminationdidnottakelong.'Yes.AllthewoundsonRatchett'sbodycouldbemadewiththatknife.'

'So,'saidM.Bouc,'themanpassesthroughthiscompartmentonhiswaytothecorridor.Henotices thespongebagandhides theknife inside it.NotevenrealisingthathehaswokenMrsHubbard,hequicklyleaves.'

'Yes,nodoubt,'saidPoirot,buthismindwasclearlyonothermatters.Hewasstaringatadoorboltthirtycentimetresabovethehandlewherethespongebagwashanging.

His thoughtswere interruptedby the tearful returnofMrsHubbard. 'I'mnotgoingtospendanothernightinthiscompartment,'shesaid.'Iwouldn'tsleepinhereagainifyoupaidmeamilliondollars.Oh,ifmydaughterknew-'

Poirotsaidloudly,'Yourluggagewillbemovedimmediately,Madame.'

Mrs Hubbard's crying stopped. 'Really?' she said. 'Then I feel betteralready.'

PoirottoldMicheltomoveherluggagetocompartmentnumber12,inthenextcarriage.Thedetective thenshowedher tohernewcompartmenthimself.Shelookedaroundhappily.

Thisisfine,'shesaid.'Anditfacestheotherway,soitfeelsquitedifferentfrommyoldcompartment.Oh,Istillcan'tbelievethattherewasamurdererinthere!'

'Theboltonthedoorstillconfusesme,Madame,'saidPoirot.'Youwereinbed,soyoucouldn'tseeit?'

'That'sright,becausethespongebagwasthere.'

Poirotpickedupthespongebagandhungitonthedoorhandle.'Isee,'hesaid.'Theboltisjustunderneaththehandle,soitishiddenbythespongebag.'

'Exactly.ButtheSwedishladysaidthatitwasbolted.'

'Shemadeamistake,Isuppose,'saidPoirot.

'Well,itwasratherstupidofher,Ithink.'

MrsHubbardbegantoworryaboutthedelaytothetrain.'Ican'tpossiblygettomyboatintime.Thisisjusttooterrible-'

M.Poirotinterruptedherbeforethetearsreturned.'Youhavehadashock,Madame.Perhapsweshouldgetyouacupoftea.'

'Acoffeewouldbebetter.Thankyou.'

AsthecoffeewasbroughttoMrsHubbard,Poirotaskedforpermissiontosearchher luggage.Sheagreedwillingly,butnothingof interestwas found.AsearchofMrHardman's compartmentwasnomore successful, but inColonelArbuthnot's luggagehe discovered a packet of pipe cleaners thatwere exactlythesameastheonefoundatthecrimescene.

PoirotwentnexttothecompartmentsofCountandCountessAndrenyi.Asheentered, theCountwassittingnear thedoor, readinganewspaper.Hiswifewascurledupinachairnearthewindow.Itappearedthatshehadbeenasleep.

A quick search followed. 'Here is a label all wet on your suitcase,Madame,'saidPoirotashelifteddownabluebag.

Shedidnotreply,butstayedcurledonherchair,showingnointerestinthevisitors.

ThenextcompartmentwassharedbyMaryDebenhamandGretaOhlsson.Poirot explained his purpose. 'After we have examined your luggage, MissOhlsson,perhapsyoucouldvisitMrsHubbard.Wehavemovedherintothenextcarriage,butsheisstillveryupset.Itmighthelphertotalktosomeone.'

ThekindSwedewantedtogoandseeMrsHubbardimmediately.Shelefthersuitcaseunlockedin thecompartmentforPoirot'ssearch.Thiswasquickly

doneandthedetectiveturnedtoMissDebenham.Shewasstaringathim.

'WhydidyousendMissOhlssonaway?'sheaskedhim.

'TohelptheAmericanwoman,'hereplied.

'Agoodexcuse-butstillanexcuse.'Shesmiled.'Youwantedtospeaktomealone,didn'tyou?'

'Idonotplanascarefullyasyouthink,MissDebenham.'

'Please - I am not stupid. For some reason, you have decided that I amresponsibleforthishorriblecrime.'

'Youareimaginingthings.'

'No,Iamnotimaginingthings.Let'snotwastetime.Saywhatyouwanttosay.'

'As youwish,Mademoiselle. On the journey from Syria, we stopped atKonya and I went for a walk on the platform. I heard you say to ColonelArbuthnot, "Not now.When it's all over.When it's behind us."What did youmeanbythosewords?'

Shesaidveryquietly,'DoyouthinkImeant-murder?'

'Iamaskingyouwhatyoumeant.'

Shesatsilentlyforaminute,lostinthought.Thenshesaid,'Thosewordshadameaning that I cannot tell you,Monsieur. I canonlypromiseyou that IneversawthismanRatchettinmylifeuntilIsawhimonthistrain.'

'Yourefusetoexplainthosewords?'

'Imust,I'mafraid.TherewassomethingthatIhadtodo-'

'Andnowyouhavedoneit?'

'Whatdoyoumean?'

'Therewas adelaybeforewe arrived in Istanbul.Youwereveryupset -

you,whoarealwayssocalm.Youlostthatcalm.'

'Ididnotwanttomissmyconnection.'

'ButtheOrientExpressleavesIstanbuleverydayoftheweek.Missingtheconnectionmeant a delay of only twenty- four hours.On this train, againwehavehad adelay - amore seriousdelay.But this timeyourbehaviour is verydifferent.Youarenotimpatientatall.Youarequitecalm.'

Miss Debenham's face was red. She was not smiling now. 'You do notanswer,Mademoiselle?'

'I'msorry.Whatdoyouwantmetotellyou?'Forthefirsttimesheshowedsignsoflosinghertemper.

'Tellmewhyyourbehaviourissodifferent.'

'Icannottellyou.Thereisnothingtoexplain.'

'Itdoesnotmatter,'saidHerculePoirot.'Iwillfindout.'Heturnedandleftthecompartment.

Inthenextcompartment,HildegardeSchmidtwaswaitingforthem.Afterlooking throughher luggage,Poirot turned toM.Bouc. 'Yourememberwhat Isaid? Look here a moment.' There was a brown conductor's uniform untidilyplacedinsidethemaid'ssuitcase.

Themaidsuddenlylookedfrightened.'Thatisnotmine!'shecried.'IhavenotlookedinthatcasesinceweleftIstanbul.'Poirottouchedherarmgentlyandsaid,'Donotworry.Webelieveyou.Themaninthisuniformhadhopednottobeseen.Afterheranintoyouinthecorridor,heneededtohidehisuniform.Hesawthatthedoortoyourcompartmentwasopen,sohequicklytookitoffandthrewitontopofyoursuitcase.'Heheldupthejacket.Abutton,thethirddown,wasmissing.Inthepocketwasaconductor'skey.

'With that, he could lock and unlock any door in the carriage,' criedM.Bouc.

'Nowwemustfindthereddressinggown,'saidPoirot.

The next compartment wasMrMacQueen's, and after thatMasterman'sandtheItalian's.Nothingofinterestwasfoundintheirluggage,andtherewerenomorecompartmentstosearch.

'Whatshallwedonow?'askedM.Bouc.

'We have collected all the evidence thatwe can.Wewill go now to therestaurantcarriageandthink.ButIwillneedcigarettes.Iwillmeetyouthereinafewmoments.'

Poirotreturnedtohisowncompartmenttogetcigarettesfromhissuitcase.Asheopenedthecase,hesatdownsuddenlyandstared.PlacedtidilyamonghisthingswasareddressinggownwithaChinesepictureontheback.

CHAPTERSEVEN

WhichofThem?

M.BoucandDrConstantineweretalkingtogetherwhenPoirotenteredtherestaurantcarriage.

'Well,'saidM.Bouc,'thiscasemakesnosenseatall.'

'Iagree,'saidthedoctor.

Poirotlitacigarette.'Buttheevidenceofthepassengerswasveryhelpful.'

'Ithoughtittoldusnothing!'criedBouc.'WhatdidImiss?'

'Take youngMacQueen, for example. He told us that his employer, M.Ratchett, spoke no languages except English. Last night the conductor heardsomeone inM.Ratchett'scompartmentcallout,"Cen'est rien.Jemesuis frompc."ThatwasnotM.Ratchett.'

'It is true!' cried Constantine excitedly. 'That is why you didn't want toaccept theevidenceof thewatch.Thosewordscame from thecompartmentattwenty-threeminutestoone.Ratchettwasalreadydead-'

'Anditwashismurdererspeaking,'finishedM.Bouc.

'You go too fast, my friends,' said Poirot. 'We have no evidence thatRatchettwasdeadatthattime.'

'Therewasthecrythatwokeyou.'

'Yes,thatistrue.'

'In oneway,' saidM. Bouc, 'this discovery does not change things verymuch.ThemurdererkilledRatchetthalfanhourearlierthanwefirstthought.Hestayedinthecompartmentforhalfanhour,changedthewatchhandstoaquarterpastoneandleftthroughMrsHubbard'scompartment.'

'Butimaginethatyouarethemurderer,'saidPoirot.'Wouldn'tyouchangethe watch to a time when your presence in Ratchett's compartment wasimpossible? You wouldn't move the hands to the exact time that you left thecrimescene.'

'True,'saidDrConstantine,alittleconfused.

'Perhaps it was the second murderer who changed the watch,' said M.Bouc.'Thewomaninthereddressinggown.'

'It was too dark for her to see that the man was already dead, but shemanaged to find a watch in Ratchett's pyjama pocket and change the timeblindly!'saidPoirotindisbelief.

M.Boucgavehimacoldstare.'Andwhatisyourexplanation,myfriend?'

'AtthemomentIhavenonethatmakessense,'repliedPoirot.'Butitistimeto close our eyes and think. One or more of the passengers killed Ratchett.Whichofthem?'

Foraquarterofanhour,noonespoke.Poirotappearedtobeasleep.Thensuddenlyhiseyesopenedandhesaidtohimself,'Butwhynot?Ifso-well,thatwouldexplaineverything.'

Heturnedtotheothermeninthecarriageandasked, 'Haveyouhadanyusefulthoughts?'

'Thoughts,yes,butnothingveryuseful,'saidthedoctor.

M.Boucagreed.

'Imyselfhavethoughtofanexplanationthatwouldcoverall thefactsofthe case. I amnot yet sure that it is the correct one, but Iwill soon find out.Before that, let us discuss some points of interest. Firstly, an ink spot on aHungarianpassport.'

M.Bouclookedat thepassportofCountandCountessAndrenyi. 'Is thisthespotthatyoumean?'heasked.

'Yes.Itseemstobefreshink.Younoticewhereitis?'

'AtthebeginningoftheCountess'sname.Butwhat-?'

'Now, letus thinkback to thehandkerchief. It is averyexpensive thing,hand-madeinParis.IthasanHonit,butitisnotsomethingthatunfashionableMrsHubbardwouldbuy,anditiscertainlynotthehandkerchiefofHildegarde,the lady's maid. There are only two women on the train who might own ahandkerchieflikethis.TheyarePrincessDragomiroff-'

'WhosefirstnameisNatalia,'interruptedM.BoucandCountessAndrenyi.Now,Iwonderaboutthatinkspot.Perhapsitwasjustanaccident,butperhapsitishidingaletter.PerhapstheCountess'snameisnotElenabutHelena.'

'Helena!'criedM.Bouc.'Thatisanidea.'

'Andthereissomethingtosupportthatideatoo.OneofthelabelsontheCountess'sluggagewasslightlywet.Perhapstheretooachangetohernamewasmade.'

'Iamstartingtobelieveyou,'saidM.Bouc.'ButtheCountessAndrenyi,amurderer?Itissounlikely.'

'Now, let us imagine last night without the snow on the line. Whathappens?Well, themurder is discovered as the train enters Italy. Theman inconductor'suniformisseenearlier-justbeforeoneo'clock.Wefindabutton inMrs Hubbard's compartment and the uniform in the toilets. We read thethreateninglettersproducedbyMacQueen.WedecidethatthemurderergotoffthetrainatBrod,whereitstoppedat00.58.'

'Youmean-?'

'Imean that themurderwas planned to seem like thework of someonefromtheoutside,notapassenger.Butthesnowchangedeverything.Itmadeitimpossibletobelievethatthemurdererhadgotoffthetrain.'

'Andwheredoesthehandkerchieffitin?'

'Bepatient,myfriend.Now,wereturntotheburntnotewhichincludedthewordsDaisyArmstrong.Themurdererdidnotwantustoreadthatletter.Whynot?Therecanbeonlyonereason.Someoneonthistrainmustbeverycloselyconnected to theArmstrong family,and thenotewouldmake thatperson look

guilty.IthinkthatpersonisCountessAndrenyi.'

'ButwhatconnectioncouldshehavewiththeArmstrongs?'criedM.Bouc.'ShesaysthatshehasneverbeentoAmerica.'

'Yes, and she speaks only a little English, and she has a very foreignappearance.Butthiscouldallbeanact.IamguessingthatsheisLindaArden'syounger daughter. Ardenwas not the actress's real surname. Perhaps shewasreallycalledGoldenberg,

andthedaughtermetandmarriedCountAndrenyiwhilehewasworkinginWashington.'

'ButthePrincesssaysthatshemarriedanEnglishman.'

'Princess Dragomiroff says that she cannot remember the name of thedaughter'shusband. Is that likely,when thePrincessand theactressweresuchclosefriends?'

One of the waiters interrupted them. 'Excuse me, Monsieur Bouc, butshouldweservedinnernow?'

M.BouclookedatPoirot.

'I think dinner would be most welcome,' said the detective. At dinner,PoirotsharedatablewithM.Boucandthedoctor.

Theotherpassengersspokelittle-evenMrsHubbard.Poirotheardhersay,'Idon't think Icaneat,' thenwatchedassheateeverything thatwasoffered toher.

PoirothadaskedthewaitertoservetheCountandCountessAndrenyilast.Alltheothertableswereemptywhentheyfinishedtheirmeal.Astheystoodup,Poirot stepped towards them. 'Youhavedroppedyourhandkerchief,Madame,'hesaid,passingtheCountessthesmallsquareofmaterial.

She looked at it quickly, then gave it back to him. 'You are mistaken,Monsieur.Thatisnotmyhandkerchief.'

'ButithasaletterHonit-thefirstletterofyourname.'

Shesaidcalmly,'MynameisElena.ThefirstletterisE.'

'1thinknot,'saidPoirot.'YournameisHelena,notElena.YouareHelenaGoldenberg, the sister of Mrs Armstrong.' There was complete silence for aminute or two.Both theCount and theCountess had gonewhite. Poirot said,moregently,'Youcannotdenyit.Weknow.'

'Itistrue,Monsieur,'saidtheCountess.Hervoicehadchanged.Itwas,forthefirsttime,American.

'Whydidyounot tellme that thismorning,Madame?Andwhydidyouchangethenameonyourpassport?'

'Ichangedthename-itwasnotmywife,'saidtheCount. 'WehadheardthatahandkerchiefwithanHonithadbeendiscoveredbythemurderedman'sbody.'

Helena spoke inanemotionalvoice. 'Thedeadmanmurderedmyniece,killedmysisterandcaused thedeathofmysister'shusband- the threepeoplethatIlovedbestinalltheworld.Ihadsuchagoodreasonforkillinghim.'

'Anddidyoukillhim,Madame?'

'IpromiseyouthatIdidnot.'shesaidquietly.

'It is true,' said theCount. 'Helenanever lefthercompartment lastnight.'Hepaused,thencontinued, 'Imaginemyposition,M.Poirot.Ididnotwantmywife, who I knew was innocent, to be taken to a police station, questioned,perhapsevenjudgedguiltyandsenttoprison.'

'IfIamgoingtobelieveyou,youmusthelpme,'saidPoirot. 'Helpyou?'repeatedtheCountess.

'Yes.Thereasonforthemurderliesinthepast-inthedeathsofyoursisterandherfamily.TakemebackintothepastsothatIcanfindtheconnectionthatexplainseverything.'

'WhatcanItellyou?Theyarealldead.Alldead-Robert,Sonia,dearlittleDaisy.'

'Susannetoo.Whatnationalitywasshe,Madame?'

'PoorSusanne.ShewasFrench.'

'Hersurname?'

'It'sterrible,butIcan'tremember-wealljustcalledherSusanne.Apretty,cheerfulgirl.ShewassofondofDaisy.Shehelpedthenursetolookafterher.'

'Whowasthenurse?'

'Stengelbergwashername.ShetoolovedDaisy.'

'You yourself - you were a young girl at the time - did you have agoverness?'

'Oh,yes,averyfrighteningwoman.ShewasEnglish-no,Scottish-abig,red-hairedladyinherforties.'

'Whatwashername?'

'MissFreebody.'

'Andtherewasnooneelselivingwithyou?'

'Onlyservants.'

'Now, Madame, I want you to think carefully before you answer thisquestion. Have you, since you were on this train, seen anyone that yourecognised?'

Shestaredathim.'I?No,noone.'

'WhataboutPrincessDragomiroff?'

'Oh, Iknowher,ofcourse. I thoughtyoumeantanyone -anyone from-fromthattime.'

'Idid,Madame.Someyearshavepassed,remember.Thepersonmaylookverydifferentnow.'

She thought for amoment. 'No - I am sure - there is noone.'When theCount andCountesshad left the carriage,M.Bouc cried, 'Excellentwork,myfriend.Ineverforonemoment

imaginedthattheCountesscouldbeourmurderer.'

'Soyoufeelsurethatsheisguilty?'askedM.Poirot.

'Yes.Thehandkerchiefprovesit,'saidM.Boucconfidently.'Oh,Iamnotsure about the handkerchief. There is another personwho could be its owner,remember.I-'

He stopped suddenly as Princess Dragomiroff entered the restaurantcarriage.ShewalkedtowardsPoirotandsaid,'Ibelieve,Monsieur,thatyouhaveahandkerchiefofmine.'

'Is this it, Madame?' He showed her the one found in Ratchett'scompartment.

'Thatisit.IthasaletterNinthecorner,formynameNatalia.'

'But,Madame,ithastheletterH,notN,'saidM.Bouc.

Shegavehimacoldstare.'MyhandkerchiefsalwayshaveRussianlettersonthem.HisNinRussian.'

There was something about this old lady that made M. Bouc feel veryfoolish.

'Youdidnottellusthatthishandkerchiefwasyourswhenwequestionedyouthismorning,'hesaid.

'Youdidnotaskme,'saidthePrincess.'Yournextquestion,Isuppose,willbe -whywasmyhandkerchief lyingbyamurderedman'sbody?My reply tothatisthatIhavenoidea.'

'Pleaseexcuseme,Madame,butwhywouldwebelieveyou?'saidPoirot.'YouhavealreadyliedtousaboutMrsArmstrong'syoungersister.'

'AndIwoulddothesameagain.Hermotherwasmyfriend.

Ibelieveinloyalty-tofriends,tofamily-aboveallelse.'

'Andinthecaseofthehandkerchief,perhapsyouareagainlyingtoprotectyourfriend'sdaughter.'

'YouthinkthatthehandkerchiefisHelena's?'Shesmiledcoldly.'Well,itiseasytoprovethat it ismine.Iwillgiveyoutheaddressof thepeople inPariswhomadeitforme.'

'Yourmaid,Madame,didsherecognisethishandkerchiefwhenweshowedittoherthismorning?'

'Probably. She saw it and said nothing? Ah, well, then she too can beloyal.'

Shestoodupandwalkedoutoftherestaurantcarriage.

'ButthePrincesscannotbeourmurderer,'saidDrConstantine.'Shedoesn'thavethestrengthtomakethedeepestwounds.Herarmsareveryweak.'

'Butthesmallerwounds?'

'Yes,thosecouldbeherwork,Isuppose.'

M.Boucshookhishead.'Lies-andmorelies.Icannotbelievehowmanyliesweweretoldthismorning!'

'Therearemanymoreliestouncover,'saidPoirotcheerfully.'Ijustneedtomakesomemoreluckyguesses.'

CHAPTEREIGHT

TwoSolutions

ColonelArbuthnotwascalledagaintotherestaurantcarriage.Hecamein,clearlyannoyed,andsaid,'Well?'

'Firstly,Iwouldliketoshowyouapipecleaner.'Poirothelditup.'Isitoneofyours?'

'Idon'tknow.Idon'tputaprivatemarkonthem!'

'You are the only passenger who smokes a pipe. This pipe cleaner wasfoundby thebodyof themurderedman.Canyou tell us,Colonel, how it gotthere?'

ColonelArbuthnotlookedsurprised.'Idon'tknow,'hesaid.'IcanonlytellyouthatIdidn'tdropittheremyself.'

'DidyoumurderMrRatchett?'

'Ineverevenspoketotheman.Although,ifIwasthemurderer,Iwouldn'ttellyou,wouldI?'

'Ohwell. Itdoesn'tmatter.'Again, theColonel lookedsurprised. 'I reallywantedtoseeyouaboutsomethingelse,'continuedPoirot.'MissDebenhamhastoldyouthatIheardhertalkingtoyouontheplatformatKonya?'

Arbuthnotdidnotreply.

'Shesaid,"Notnow.Whenit'sallover.Whenit'sbehindus."Doyouknowwhatthosewordsmeant?'

'Imustrefusetoanswerthatquestion.'

'Youwillnottellalady'ssecrets?'

'Exactly.'

'Evenwhenthatladyislikelytobeguiltyofmurder?'

'Thatiscrazy.MissDebenhamisnotamurderer.'

'MissDebenhamwastheArmstrongs'governessatthetimethatDaisywaskidnapped,'saidPoirot.

Therewasaminute'ssilence.

'You see, we know more than you think,' continued Poirot. 'If MissDebenhamisinnocent,whydidshesaythatshehadneverbeentoAmerica?'

TheColonelcoughed.'Perhapsyouaremistaken.'

'No,Iamnotmistaken.WhydidMissDebenhamlietome?'

'Isuggestthatyouaskher.Istillthinkthatyouarewrong.'Poirotcalledtoone of thewaiters. 'Go and ask the English lady in number 11 to come here,please.'

ThefourmensatinsilenceuntilMissDebenhamhadenteredthecarriage.Herheadwasthrownbackbravely.Shelookedverybeautiful.

HereyeswenttoArbuthnotforamoment-justamoment.ThenshesaidtoPoirot,'Youwishedtoseeme?'

'Iwished toaskyou,Mademoiselle,whyyou toldus thatyouhadneverbeeninAmerica.WenowknowthatyouwerelivingintheArmstrongs'housewhenDaisywaskidnapped.'

Herfacechangedforasecond,thenreturnedtoitsusualcalm.'Thereasonformy lie is easy to explain,' she saidwith a smile. 'I have towork.Do youknowhowharditistogetandkeepagoodjobasagoverness?Ifmynamewereconnectedwiththiscrime,ifmyphotographwereintheEnglishnewspapers,myreputationwouldberuined.Iwouldneverworkagain.'

'Butifyouwerenotguilty,therewouldbenoproblem.'

'Peopleremembernamesandfaces-theydonotrememberwhowasguiltyandwhowasinnocent.'

'It isalwaysbetter tobehonest,Mademoiselle.AndyoualsokeptsecretthefactthatCountessAndrenyiisMrsArmstrong'syoungersister.'

'CountessAndrenyi?Really?'Sheshookherhead. 'Itmayseemunlikely,butIhonestlydidn'trecogniseher.Threeyearsago,whenIlastsawher,shewasanAmericanschoolgirl.She lookssodifferent! It is true that,whenIsawher,her face looked familiar.But I couldn't thinkwho shewas.After that, I didn'treallynoticeher.Ihadmyownworries.'

'Youwillnottellmeyoursecret?'askedPoirotgently.

She replied very quietly, 'I can't - I can't.' Suddenly her facewas in herhandsandshewascrying.Sheseemedheartbroken.

TheColoneljumpedupandstooduncomfortablybesideher.HeshoutedatPoirot,'I'llbreakeveryboneinyourbody!'

'Monsieur!'criedM.Bouc.

Arbuthnotwasnowtalkingtothegirl.'Mary,please-'

She jumpedup. 'It's nothing,' she said. 'I'm fine.Youdon't needme anymore,doyou,M.Poirot?Ifyoudo,pleasecomeandfindme.Oh,whatafoolI'mmakingofmyself!'

Shehurriedoutofthecarriage,followedbyArbuthnot. 'Well,myfriend,'smiledM.BoucatPoirot,'anotherexcellentguess!'

'Howdoyoudoit?'askedDrConstantineinadmiration.'Thistimeitwaseasy.CountessAndrenyialmosttoldme.'

'What?!'

'When I asked her governess's name, she said Freebody. You may notknow,gentlemen,but thereusedtobeashopinLondoncalledDebenhamandFreebody.With the nameDebenham running through her head, Freebodywasthe first name that the Countess could think of. I understood immediately, ofcourse.'

'Nothingwouldsurprisemenow,'saidM.Bouc.'Evenifeverybodyonthe

trainprovedtobefriendsoftheArmstrongs!'

'Itiscertainlyamostsurprisingcase,'saidDrConstantine?'Now,letusseeyourItalian,M.Bouc,'saidPoirot.HeaskedthewaitertocallFoscarellitotherestaurantcarriage.

ThebigItaliansoonarrived,lookingverynervous.'Whatdoyouwant?'hesaid.'IhavetoldyoueverythingthatIknow.'

'Butnowwewant the truestory,' saidPoirot. 'Wealreadyknowit,but itwillbebetterforyouifyoutellusyourself'

'You sound like theAmerican police,' he said angrily. ' "Be honestwithus,"theysay,"andthejudgeswillbekindtoyou."'

'Ah!YouhavehadexperienceoftheNewYorkpolice?'

'No,no,never.Theycouldnotproveanythingagainstme-althoughtheytriedhardenough.'

'ThatwasintheArmstrongcase,wasn'tit?'saidPoirotquietly.'Youdrovetheircarsforthem?'HiseyesmettheItalian's.

'Ifyoualreadyknow,whyaskme?'theItaliansaid.

'Whydidyouliethismorning?'

'Forbusinessreasons,andbecauseIdonotwant tobequestionedby theYugoslavpolice.TheyhateItalians.Theywouldjustthrowmeinprison.'

'Perhapsyoudeservetobethrowninprison.'

'No,no,Ididn'tmurderthatman.Thelong-facedEnglishmancantellyouthat.'

'Verygood,'saidPoirot.'Youcango.'

'Thatmanwasapig!'criedFoscarelliashe left thecarriage.Thereweretearsinhiseyes.'LittleDaisy-whatalovelychild!Shelovedtoplayinmycar.Alltheservantsthoughtshewaswonderful.'

NextPoirotcalledGretaOhlsson.Shesoonarrived,intears,andfellbackintotheseatfacingthedetective.

'Do not upset yourself,Mademoiselle,' Poirot said gently. 'Youwere thenursewholookedafterlittleDaisyArmstrong?'

'It is true,'cried theunhappywoman. 'Ah,shewasasweet,kind-heartedlittlegirl.'Foramomentshecouldnotcontinue.'Iwaswrongnottotellyouthismorning,but Iwasafraid-afraid. Iwassohappy that theevilmanwasdead,thathecouldnotkillanymorelittlechildren.'

Poirot touched her gently on the shoulder. 'I understand - I understandeverything.Iwillaskyounomorequestions.'

TheSwedish ladymoved slowlyoutof thecarriage,her eyesblindwithtears. As she reached the door, she walked into aman coming in. It was themanservant,Masterman.

'Excuse me, sir,' he said to Poirot in his usual, unemotional voice. 'Ithought I should tell you immediately. Iworked forColonelArmstrong in thewar,sir,andafterwardsinNewYork.I'msorrythatIdidn'ttellyouearlier.'

Hestopped.

Poirotstaredathim.'Isthatallthatyouwanttosay?'

'Yes,sir.'Hepaused;then,whenPoirotdidnotspeak,heturnedandleftthecarriage.

'Thisismoreunlikelythanamurdermysterynovel!'criedDrConstantine.

M. Bouc agreed. 'Of the twelve passengers, nine have got a definiteconnectionwiththeArmstrongcase.'

'Perhapswecanfitthemallintoourlittlecollection,'saidPoirot,smiling.'Maybetheyare-Idon'tknow-theArmstrongs'gardener,housekeeperandcook.'

'Thatwould be toomuch to believe,' saidM.Bouc. 'They cannot all beconnected.'

Poirot looked at him. 'You do not understand,' he said. 'You do notunderstandatall.'

'Doyou?'askedM.Bouc.'DoyouknowwhokilledRatchett?'

'Oh,yes,'Poirotsaid.'Ihaveknownforsometime.'

Poirotwassilentforaminute.Thenhesaid,'M.Bouc,could

you please call everyone here. There are two possible solutions to thiscase.Iwanttoexplainthembothtoyouall.'

Thepassengerscrowdedintotherestaurantcarriageandtooktheirseatsatthetables.Theyalllookednervous.

Theconductor,Michel,askedM.Poirotifhecouldstay.

'Ofcourse,Michel,'thedetectivereplied.

Hestoodupandgavealittlecough.'Ladiesandgentlemen,weareheretofindoutwhomurderedSamuelEdwardRatchett-alsoknownasCassetti.Therearetwopossiblesolutionstothecrime.Iwillexplainbothsolutions,andaskM.BoucandDrConstantineheretojudgewhichistherightone.

'MrRatchettdiedlastnightbetweenmidnightandtwointhemorning.Athalfanhouraftermidnight, the trainstoppedbecauseof the thicksnow.Afterthattimeitwasimpossibleforanyonetoleavethetrain.

'Here ismyfirstsolution.AnenemyofMrRatchettgotonto the trainatBelgrade.Hewaswearingaconductor'suniformandhadaconductor'skey,withwhichheopenedRatchett's lockeddoor.HeattackedRatchettwithaknifeandkilledhim.ThenhewentintoMrsHubbard'scompartment-'

'That'strue,'saidMrsHubbard.

'HeputhisknifeinMrsHubbard'sspongebag.Withoutknowingit,helostabuttonfromhisuniform.Thenhewentoutintothecorridor,threwhisuniformintoasuitcaseinanemptycompartmentand,dressedinordinaryclothes,leftthetrainatVincovcithroughthedoorneartherestaurantcar.'

'Butthatexplanationdoesnotwork!'criedM.Bouc.'Whataboutthevoiceheardinsidehiscompartmentattwenty-threeminutestoone?'

'Thatwas notRatchett and not themurderer, but someone else. PerhapssomeonehadgonetospeaktoRatchettandfoundhimdead.Herangthebelltotelltheconductor.Then,atthelastminute,hechangedhismindbecausehewasafraidthat

peoplewouldthinkhewasguiltyofthecrime.'

PrincessDragomiroffwaslookingatPoirotstrangely.'Andtheevidenceofmymaid,whosawthemaninuniformataquarterpastone?'sheasked.'Howdoyouexplainthat?'

'Itissimple,Madame.Sherecognisedyourhandkerchiefandinventedherstorytoprotectyou.'

'Youhavethoughtofeverything,'saidthePrincess.

Therewassilence.TheneveryonejumpedasDrConstantinesuddenlyhitthetablewithhishand.'Butno,'hesaid.'No,no,andagainno!Thatexplanationdoesnotworkforsomanyreasons.Youmustknowthatperfectlywell,Poirot.'

'ThenImustgivemysecondsolution,'saidthedetective.'Butdonotforgetthisfirstonetooquickly.Youmayagreewithitlater.'

Poirot looked around the carriagebefore continuing, 'Itwas immediatelycleartomethatmanyofyouwerelying.Toprotectsomeone,MrHardman,youshouldspendthenightintheperson'scompartmentorinaplacewhereyoucansee his door. Your method was completely useless - except for producingevidencethatnooneinanyotherpartofthetraincouldbeRatchett'smurderer.

'ThentherewereMissDebenhamandColonelArbuthnot.OntheplatformatKonya,hecalledherMary.Amanlike theColoneldoesnotuseawoman'sfirst namewhen he has only justmet her.Clearly theywere lying about theirrelationship.

'Mrs Hubbard also made a mistake. She said that her sponge bag washangingonthehandleofthedoortoRatchett'scompartment,andthatithidthebolt on the door. That would be possible in compartments 2, 4 and 12, for

example-alltheevennumbers-becausetheboltisjustunderthedoorhandle.Butinhercompartment,number3,theboltisalongwayabovethehandleandso it could not be hidden by a hanging sponge bag.MrsHubbard had clearlyinventedthatstory.

'The watch in Ratchett's pyjamas was interesting too. What anuncomfortableplacetokeepawatch!Iwassurethatitwasafalseclue.SowasRatchettmurderedearlier,whenacrycamefromhisroom?Ithinknot.Hewassoheavilydruggedthathecouldnotdefendhimself.Hecouldnotcryouteither.Ibelievethatthecryattwenty-threeminutestoone-andthewordsinFrench-wereplannedtoconfuseme.MacQueentoldmethatRatchettspokenoFrench.IwasmeanttothinkthatRatchettwaskilledatthatmoment.

'Andtherealtimeofthecrime?IthinkRatchettwaskilledatalmosttwoo'clock. And themurderer?' He paused, looking at the passengers. There wascompletesilence.

Hecontinuedslowly.'Everyonewasprovedinnocentbyanotherpassenger- inmostcases,apassengerwhowasunlikely tobea friend inanearlier life.MacQueenandArbuthnot, theEnglishmanservantandtheItalian,theSwedishladyandtheEnglishgoverness."This isverystrange,"Isaid tomyself."Theycannotallbeguilty."

'And then, ladies and gentlemen, I realised. Theywere all guilty. ItwasimpossiblethatsomanypeopleconnectedwiththeArmstrongsweretravellingonthesametrainbychance.Itcouldonlyhappenifitwasplanned.Thatwouldalsoexplainthecrowdedtrainatatimeofyearthatisusuallyquiet.Thereweretwelve passengers, after Ratchett's death. There were twelve knife wounds inRatchett's body. In America, murder cases are decided by a group of twelveordinarypeople.

'RatchetthadescapedpunishmentfromthecourtinAmerica,althoughnoone doubted that he was guilty. I imagined a group of twelve people whodecided,when the court case failed, to give him his punishment anotherway.Andimmediatelythewholecasebecamecleartome.

'Everything was explained - the strange wounds that did not bleed, thefalsethreateninglettersthatwerewrittenonly

tobeproduced as evidence, thedescriptionof thedarkmanwith a high

voicethatfittednoneoftherealconductorsandcouldequallymeanamanorawoman. I believe that everyone entered Ratchett's compartment through MrsHubbard's-andstruck!Noonecouldknowwhichstrikeactuallykilledhim.

'Everydetailoftheevidencewasverycarefullyplanned.Theonlypossiblesolutionappearedtobeamurdererwhojoinedthetrainandleftagainduringthenight.But then therewas thesnow- thefirstpieceofbad luck. I imagine thattherewasaquickdiscussion,andeveryonedecidedtocontinuewiththecrime.Itwouldbeclear that themurdererhad tobeoneormoreof thepassengers,buttheywerestillprotectedbyeachother'sstories.Theyaddedsomeextracluestoconfuse the case - a pipe cleaner, a lady's handkerchief, a woman in a reddressinggown.ThedressinggownwasprobablyCountessAndrenyi's,asthereisnodressinggowninherluggage.

'MacQueenlearntthatwehadseenthewordArmstrongon

theburntletter,andtoldtheothers.Itwastheirsecondpieceofbadluck.ThepositionofCountessAndrenyibecameworrying,andtheCountchangedhernameonthepassport.

'TheplanwasimpossiblewithoutthehelpofMichel,theconductor.Butifhewasoneof thegroup, then therewere thirteenpeople,not twelve. IbelievethattheCountess,whohadthestrongestreasontokillCassetti,wasprobablytheonewhodidnotdoit.Herhusbandhaspromisedmethatshedidnotleavehercompartment.Ibelievehim.

'ButwhywashonestMichelinthis?Hewasagoodmanwhohadworkedon the train for many years. Then I remembered Susanne, the Armstrongs'Frenchmaid.Perhaps theunluckygirlwasMichel'sdaughter.And theothers?ArbuthnotwasprobablyanarmyfriendofArmstrong's,HildegardeSchmidtthefamily'scook.Hardmanprobablyworkedasadetectiveonthecase,orperhapshehadbeeninlovewithSusanne.AndthentherewasMrsHubbard.Shehadadifficult job, because she was in the compartment through which everyonereachedRatchett.Noonecouldsaythattheywerewithher.Toplaythepartofthis foolish oldwoman, a true actresswas needed -MrsArmstrong'smother,LindaArden.'

Hestopped.

Then,inasoftrichdreamyvoice,veryunliketheoneshehadusedonthe

journey, Mrs Hubbard said, 'I always liked playing amusing characters. Thatmistakewith thespongebagwassilly, though.Wetried iton the journeyeast,butIwasinanevennumberedcompartmentthen,Isuppose.'

Shemoved slightly and looked straight at Poirot. 'You have guessed somuch,M.Poirot.Butevenyoucan'timaginewhatitwaslike-thatterribledayinNewYorkwhenHectorMacQueentoldusthatCassettihadwalkedfreefromthe court. I was crazy with sadness and anger - and the servants were too.ColonelArbuthnotwasthere.HewasRobertArmstrong'sbestfriend.'

'Hesavedmylifeinthewar,'saidArbuthnot.

'Wedecidedthenandtheretogivehimthepunishmentthatthecourthadfailedtogivehim-death.Perhapsweweremad

I don't know.Therewere twelve of us -well, eleven, becauseSusanne'sfatherwasinFrance,ofcourse.MaryplannedallthedetailswithHector.

'Ittookalongtimetoperfectourplan.HardmanmanagedtofindRatchett.ThenMastermanandHectorhad toget jobswithhim.WehadameetingwithSusanne'sfather.ForColonelArbuthnot,itwasimportantthatthereweretwelveofus - itmade itmorecorrect,he thought.Michelwaswilling.Weknew thatRatchettwouldcomebackfromtheEastontheOrientExpress,sothisseemedtheperfectopportunity.

'Wetriedtobookeverycompartmentinthecarriage,butunfortunatelyonehadbeenbookedlongbeforeforsomeonefromthetraincompany.'ShesmiledatM. Bouc. 'Mr Harris, of course, was invented - we didn't want a stranger inHector'scompartment.Then,atthelastminute,youcame,M.Poirot.'

Shestopped.'Well,'shesaid,'youknoweverythingnow.Butwhatareyougoingtodoaboutit?Ifsomeonemustbepunished,can'tyoublamemeandonlymeforthecrime?It'sunnecessarytobringtroubletoalltheseothergoodpeople-poorMichel-andMaryandColonelArbuthnot-theyloveeachothersomuch-'

Poirotlookedathisfriend.'Whatdoyousay,M.Bouc?'

M. Bouc coughed and said, 'In my opinion, the first solution was thecorrectone-definitely.ThemurdererleftthetrainatVincovci.Isuggestthatwe

give that solution to the Yugoslav police when they arrive. Do you agree,Doctor?'

'CertainlyIagree,'saidDrConstantine. 'I thinkImadesome-er-rathersillysuggestionsaboutthemedicalevidence.'

'Then,'saidPoirot,'wehavesolvedthecase.Myworkhereisdone.'

-THEEND-

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