Murder on the Orient Express: Part Three: Chapters 1-9

“That document, you understand,” said Poirot, “is a mere precis of the evidence we heard, arranged that way for convenience.”

“In fact,” said Poirot, “she stabbed him in the dark, not realizing that he was dead already, but somehow deduced that he had a watch in his pyjama pocket, took it out, put back the hands blindly and gave it the requisite dent.”

And as regards the question of left-handedness, ought we not to take steps to ascertain which of the passengers is left-handed?

“But I have arrived at no conclusion. The elucidation of crime is your metier, not mine, my friend.”

M. Bouc, meanwhile, seizing upon the one tangible thing his friend had mentioned, was sorting through the passports.

The uniform would be left in a conspicuous place so as to show clearly just how the trick had been played.

I am returning to it by a somewhat circuitous route.

This, then, was the second hitch in his plans.

I suggest to you, gentlemen, that that young sister of Mrs. Armstrong’s, little more than a child at the time of the tragedy, was Helena Goldenberg the younger daughter of Linda Arden, and that she married Count Andrenyi when he was an attache in Washington.

Even the loquacious Mrs. Hubbard was unnaturally quiet.

It still had the southern richness of tone, but it had become suddenly more clear cut and incisive.

He spoke with an earnestness that it was hard to gainsay.

I pointed out to Helena that if it were seen that her Christian name began with an H she would immediately be subjected to much more rigorous questioning.

“For my part, I should never have dreamed of suspecting Count and Countess Andrenyi. I will admit I thought them quite hors de combat. I suppose there is no doubt that she committed the crime? It is rather sad. Still, they will not guillotine her. There are extenuating circumstances. A few years’ imprisonment—that will be all.”

There was something about this indomitable old lady which made him feel flustered and uncomfortable.

“Certainly. I would do the same again. Her mother was my friend. I believe, Messieurs, in loyalty—to one’s friends and one’s family and one’s caste.”

“I noticed just a trifling hesitation when I asked the maid if she knew to whom the handkerchief belonged. She was uncertain whether or not to admit that it was her mistress’s. But how does that fit in with that strange central idea of mine? Yes, it might well be.”

“Such duplicity is terrible,” said M. Bouc.

If you confront anyone who has lied with the truth, they usually admit it—often out of sheer surprise. It is only necessary to guess right to produce your effect.

“Another miraculous guess. C’est formidable.”

The bluster went out of the big man.

“It is a conspiracy. You are going to frame me? All for a pig of a man who should have gone to the chair! It was an infamy that he did not. If it had been me—if I had been arrested—”

She wept with more vehemence than ever.

He paused, then, as Poirot did not speak, he made an apologetic little bow, and after a momentary hesitation left the dining car in the same quiet, unobtrusive fashion as he had come.

They all bore more or less the same expression, one of expectancy mingled with apprehension.

“He thrust the dagger he had used into Mrs. Hubbard’s sponge bag in passing. Without knowing it, he lost a button of his uniform. Then he slipped out of the compartment and along the corridor. He hastily thrust the uniform into a suitcase in an empty compartment, and a few minutes later, dressed in ordinary clothes, he left the train just before it started off. Again using the same means of egress—the door near the dining car.”

Whatever narcotic was administered to him must have been done so without his knowledge.

Even if he had fallen in love with the young lady at first sight, he would have advanced slowly and with decorum—not rushing things.

I remembered that MacQueen had called attention, not once but twice (and the second time in a very blatant manner), to the fact that Ratchett could speak no French.

Allowing that my theory of the crime was the correct one, and I believe that it must be the correct one, then obviously the Wagon Lit conductor himself must be privy to the plot.