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Murder on the Orient Express: A Hercule Poirot Mystery: The Official Authorized Edition
Murder on the Orient Express: A Hercule Poirot Mystery: The Official Authorized Edition
Murder on the Orient Express: A Hercule Poirot Mystery: The Official Authorized Edition
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Murder on the Orient Express: A Hercule Poirot Mystery: The Official Authorized Edition

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THE MOST WIDELY READ MYSTERY OF ALL TIMENOW A MAJOR MOTION PICTURE DIRECTED BY KENNETH BRANAGH AND PRODUCED BY RIDLEY SCOTT!

 

“The murderer is with us—on the train now . . .”

 

Just after midnight, the famous Orient Express is stopped in its tracks by a snowdrift. By morning, the millionaire Samuel Edward Ratchett lies dead in his compartment, stabbed a dozen times, his door locked from the inside. Without a shred of doubt, one of his fellow passengers is the murderer.

 

Isolated by the storm, detective Hercule Poirot must find the killer among a dozen of the dead man's enemies, before the murderer decides to strike again.

 

“What more . . . can a mystery addict desire?”—New York Times

 

Editor's Note

Luxurious classic…

When a luxury train is derailed by a snowdrift, a murder is discovered and no passenger escapes suspicion. Hercule Poirot, Christie’s infamous fictional detective, happens to be a passenger and takes the reins of the investigation. Grab some popcorn and immerse yourself in Christie’s classic before seeing the star-studded movie version.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherHarperCollins
Release dateOct 28, 2003
ISBN9780061753824
Author

Agatha Christie

Agatha Christie is the most widely published author of all time, outsold only by the Bible and Shakespeare. Her books have sold more than a billion copies in English and another billion in a hundred foreign languages. She died in 1976, after a prolific career spanning six decades.

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Rating: 4.2404301075268815 out of 5 stars
4/5

2,325 ratings179 reviews

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  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    It was a great book! I was sucked right in and could see how people are continuing to read this after all these years. What made it a 4 star instead of the 5 was all the stereotypes that were mentioned and reinforced throughout the book.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    I read this for the first time many years ago and thought it would be interesting to read it again even though I know the solution to the mystery - it was impossible to forget. I enjoyed it just as much, maybe even more because I was able to get an idea of how Christie's ideas developed. As well, I've seen David Suchet's documentary about the Orient Express which helped visualize it better and I noticed the small, seemingly inconsequential details, like the watch hook, which really does exist, and which the victim did not use. Considering this was written in 1934 it shows considerably more talent, knowledge and style than others of the same vintage. There is no doubt Ms Christie deserves the full five stars.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    A classic tale of mystery and intrigue. Such a fun ride!
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Hercule Poirot, a Belgian detective, is called back home from a holiday, so he makes arrangements to take the Orient Express. During the trip, an American man is brutally murdered. Poirot takes the case.This was my first introduction to Hercule Poirot and I liked him. The investigation was played out right before my eyes, but he was always way ahead of me. He gathered all the clues there were to gather, then he didn't rely just on the facts alone. He developed reasonable guesses and tested those guesses out on the suspects. Eventually, he arrived at not just one answer, but two. (4.25/5)Originally posted on: Thoughts of Joy
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    Title: Murder on the Orient Express (A Hercule Poirot Mystery)Author: Agatha Christie Pages: 288Year: 2011Publisher: William Morrow PaperbackMy rating 5 out of 5 stars.I never read the book until I learned that a movie was coming out later this year based on the novel. There was a movie released with many well-known actors and actresses in 1974. Since some friends wouldn’t tell me how the movie ended, I decided to read the book then watch the older version of the movie. I was very glad that the ending was not revealed to me. Agatha Christie wrote an exceptional tale that has a few red herrings, making the process of figuring out who done the deed challenging!What an exceptional and talented author she was to write a compelling mystery, yet never revealing too much so that the ending came as a complete surprise! The only hard part for me in reading the book were the small phrases written in French that I didn’t know, which made it a little harder to figure out what was happening in a of the couple scenes.All I can encourage readers to do is read the book, enjoy the older version before seeing the new version in theatres later in 2017! You don’t want to miss one fantastic well-written mystery by an exceptional author!
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    Zeker het best geschreven verhaal van Christie; frappant dat de daders vrijuit gaan; niet de enige keer dat Poirot voor rechtvaardige rechter speelt!
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    The ending saved this one. That and the visage of the English actor who plays him on Masterpiece Theater. Written in a very ho hum way with straw characters. But the 1930's atmosphere and references as well as an interesting ending saved the book from a 3.0 and got me to consider reading another one.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    I think I understand some of the draw of this series. This is a French Sherlock Holmes, with the accorded twists and turns. It's encouraged me to try to learn French, because I listened to the audio book and without the actual text in front of me, it was hard to know what was said.There were times when the audio book's narrator drops his voice so you can barely hear him for certain characters. But he kept the characterization. Which makes this hard to place as an objection. My thinking kept going back to two people who haven't been investigated for the crime. Why? Because they have free rein of the train and they've been with the main character the entire time. Even so much that they are offering thoughts to who did it.This was definitely a good twisted ending of the mystery. Connections that got drawn out through the book I'd never have seen without them being spelled out, which means I enjoyed the challenge of seeing how I missed them.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    great narration on a classic mystery- thoroughly enjoyable and highly recommended
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    There are some books that are "must reads" and some that are better viewed--I guess one would call them "must views." Having seen the film version of this Christie, I would indubitably say it is a "must listen."David Suchet brings all the characters to life, and the book (whether read or listened to) has so much more to offer than the movie--good though it is.Many of Christie's plots have been borrowed by other mystery writers. For all I know, Christie herself may have done a bit of borrowing herself, but however she came up with this plot, it is a wonderful one, with a completely satisfactory denuemont.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    I've had never read an Agatha Christie book and thought it was about time. Don't think I would want a steady diet of such, but it was a delightful, easy, and entertaining read. Thirteen individuals are trapped on a train stuck in a snowstorm when one is mysteriously stabbed to death. Hercule Poirot, detective extraordinaire, interviews each and slowly surmises the murderer -- oophs, murderers. Pretty far fetched, but purely entertaining.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Mord im Orientexpress ist wohl eines der berühmtesten Bücher Agatha Christies.Ein Krimi, der nicht wie es so oft heute vorkommt, auf die tiefgründige Hintergrundgeschichte des Ermittlers und die hinterhältigen Serienmörder eingeht, sondern ganz klassisch eine gute Detektivgeschichte darstellt.Hercule Poirot wird während einer Reise zurück in die Heimat beordert und gerät so zufälligerweise in den Orientexpress.Bis auf einen ungewöhnlicherweise völlig überfüllte Zug, scheint alles seinen gewohnten Gang zu gehen.Doch der Zug bleibt aufgrund einer Schneewehe stecken.Und ein Mord geschieht.Die Verbindung zur Außenwelt ist gekappt und so muss sich Poirot einzig und allein auf seine intellektuellen Fähigkeiten verlassen.Der Mörder muss noch im Zug sein, doch ein jeder der zwölf Passagiere scheint so unverdächtig zu sein wie der andere.Wer hat den Mord verübt? Und gibt es zwischen den einzelnen Personen vielleicht doch einen Zusammenhang.Dieses Buch verleitet einen, es nicht mehr aus der Hand legen zu wollen. Die Geschichte ist gut erzählt und der Spannungsbogen bleibt bis zur letzten Seite fest gespannt. Der Leser denkt automatisch mit, um hinter des Rätsels Lösung zu kommen.Das das Ergebnis nicht nur bei Poirot und seinem mitfahrenden Freund, sondern auch beim unbeteiligten Leser ein moralisches Dilemma hervorruft, ist von der Autorin klasse inszeniert und bringt den einzelnen dazu, noch über das Buch hinaus über die Bedeutung von Moral und Unmoral nachzudenken.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    Murder on the Orient Express - Agatha Christie *****I’m not really sure how, but after watching Poirot for a number of years on the TV I managed to never see Murder on the Orient Express, this at least meant that the plot was fresh to me and no surprises ruined. I have only read a few Agatha Christie and she is still an author I am beginning to discover.Most of the action takes place in the same place, aboard the Orient Express with a Poirot being asked to look into the murder of an American Tycoon. One by one he interrogates each passenger on the train and in true Christie style he discovers that the majority have a motive and a hidden past. We see the little grey cells at work and soon he begins to see through the acts and subterfuges, eventually cumulating in one of his famous suspect get together, where the truth is ousted.This was a strange book, because two thirds of the way through I thought I had it all sewn up and really thought that the plot was a bit ridiculous and Christie had used the ‘coincidence’ card a little too much, but when the ending came I realised just how brilliant the plot actually was. Definitely worth a look whether you are a fan of Christie or not and what better place to start than probably her most famous novel.
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    I thought I would love this given my affinity for "And Then There Were None" but this came across as a very blase whodunnit of no particular artistry or interest. I can't help but wonder if it's a akin to the must-reads of many Oprah Book Club books where people inhale the text because it's what everyone else is reading but then no longer stand on its own once the The Garmlich Effect has died down.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    I DID NOT EXPECT THAT
    i initially wanted to give this 4 stars but then the last 5% happened and that was amazing it completely took me by surprise. it was so so much better than i expected, i really didn't think i would like this much, and i think i will be reading more of her books in the near future. (surprisingly i really liked poirot and the language was exactly what i was in the mood for)
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    Hercule Poirot boards a train to get back to England where he is needed to solve another case. However, the Orient Express gets caught in a snow drift… and one of the passengers is found murdered. Knowing that the murderer could not have left the train after the crime, Poirot decides to take this case on.

    This was the first Agatha Christie novel I’ve ever read and it instantly hooked me. Even though the entire setting of this book takes place on a train, it is not boring. Christie hooked me from the very beginning and kept me guessing until the very end.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    I finished this book over lunch, and probably would've given it 3 stars until the last chapter or two. I thought the last pat of the book was intriguing, so I bumped up my rating for this one.
  • Rating: 2 out of 5 stars
    2/5
    I found a box full of old paper back copies of Agatha Christie's Murder on the Orient Express just before winter break. Since I figured they might appeal to some of my seventh graders I offered the title as a book club choice."This is the classic story about a group of strangers on a train travelling through Europe," I told each of my classes. "One night one of the passengers is found murdered, stabbed to death. Luckily, detective Hercule Poirot is on the same train. Will he find the killer before the train arrives?" I got some of the details wrong, but I also got their attention. Just over half of the book clubs (about 35 students) selected Murder on the Orient Express for the winter break reading. Since we would be writing essays about our books this time around--the last set of essays was not very good; we could use some more practice-- I decided I should probably reread the book myself. It's been many years since I last read one of Ms. Christie's classic who-dunnit's. It was a lot of fun. The story is well known, by now--a train car full of passengers in the off season gets stuck in the snow when one of the passengers is discovered stabbed to death in his cabin. Hercule Poirot must discover which of the passengers killed the man. He investigates, interrogates, investigates some more, then sits down to discuss the clues he has collected with his companions, really with the readers. The solution is revealed. Justice is more or less served. But I've no idea how we're going to write a paper about it. Usually book report essays consist of the student selecting one theme in the book and three scenes that illustrate the author's point regarding this theme. This is a useful formula that works with almost every piece of young adult fiction you can name. But I don't see it working with Murder on the Orient Express. The main thing with a response to literature essay is organizing it around a topic and selecting evidence to illustrate that topic. The problem students run into, and the one that torpedoed the last set of essays, is the temptation to simply write a long plot summery. Sounds a bit like book blogging, no? The main theme for the book is the conflict between justice and revenge. I've a problem with the author coming down so clearly on the side of revenge, but that's what she did so that's how we should write the papers. As an alternative, we may be able to write an essay describing what makes Hercule Poirot a good detective. He's got a great memory for details, he's methodical and detailed. He picks up on small things mentioned during interrogations. And, of course, he tends to select only cases with suspects willing to give complete confessions when even the slightest bit of evidence emerges. Any way you look at it, it's not going to be an easy paper to write.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    I have seen the movie version many times, but still I adored the book. I love the processes of Poirot. I adore the power of observation by both Hercule Poirot and Sherlock Holmes. Both men miss nothing and both men think highly of themselves. Each writer, Doyle and Christie, focuses on England, but at different times. I have not read all that each writer has completed, but I thoroughly enjoy Christie's style of writing. I feel that with Christie I am following the detective as he researches the crime. The reader sees all the clues and listens to all the stories, but only Poirot understands the outcome.
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    Interesting story if you enjoy crime shows or murder mysteries. Not a challenging book but entertaining, quick read.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    I am an Agatha Christie fan. I started reading her in high school and she frequently reappears in my reading choices. However, I had never read one of her better known works until a few weeks ago. My husband is just starting to read her work, and I suggested this title, knowing that it is much loved, and decided to read it along with him.Poirot is traveling home and takes the train, the Orient Express; at the behest of an old friend, he rides in the first-class carriage. They both remark on the oddness of the full carriage, since the time of year is not usually busy, and enjoy themselves watching and speculating about the other passengers. The good times end when one of the passengers is murdered in his cabin at night, and the train is stuck in a snowdrift and no police are forthcoming. Poirot's friend, who happens to be the train conductor, urges him to help them solve the matter, so that by the time the police arrive they can present them the villain and avoid as much scandal as possible. Poirot readily agrees, and they set up an interview room in the dining car so he can speak to each passenger on the train. He also searches through the evidence in every room, with the assistance of his friend and the doctor who examined the body. Since the fun of a Christie mystery is in the gathering of clues and collecting of suspects, that's as much of the plot as I will write in this review. Of course, Poirot does figure it all out, in the end.As I suspected, I had a pleasant time reading this mystery. It has been a long while since I've read a Poirot mystery, and I missed the plucky detective. I love how everyone dismisses Poirot, unless they know his reputation. Actually, in this book they did know, and were the opposite of taking him for granted, and that was fun, too. Christie mysteries are wonderful in that she clearly presents the readers with all of the clues, and yet I still never figure them out. To be fair, she throws in a lot of red herrings, too. I read through this book quickly, and was wholly surprised by the actual killer. I understand why so many people laud the story. I am definitely ready to read some more by one of my favorite mystery writers.
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    'Murder on the Orient Express' by Agatha Christie was a brilliant and mysterious and suspenseful novel about Hercules Poirot investigating a murder on the Orient Express. This easy-to-read novel was extremely exciting and the scene of interrogation was especially interesting.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    It was fun reading the book that forged so many murder-mystery stereotypes that came after it. I was really pleasantly surprised how readable and enjoyable Agatha Christie remains so long after she first wrote it.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Easy and fun. I'm not normally a mystery genre kind of girl, but the nostalgia of the 'whodunnit' is appealing.
  • Rating: 5 out of 5 stars
    5/5
    Agatha Christie is very, very clever. I couldn't put this one down.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    One of the most famous Christie novels, this takes place in an archetypal cut-off environment, a snowbound train in the Balkans in the inter-war years, with no means of communication with the outside world. The ratiocination and simplicity of the prose is as smooth and satisfying as ever. However, I did not find the final resolution of the murder at all plausible, so this soured the ending for me. One other feature that amused me, but which jars now, is the readiness to believe that different nationalities are all of the same type - so an Italian man is suspected because the murder weapon is a knife that suits their hot Latin temperament, unlike that of an Englishman or American.
  • Rating: 3 out of 5 stars
    3/5
    I really give this book 3.5 stars. It's the first time I've read an Agatha Christie novel so I'm not sure if she formats her books in the same manner every time. I like how this one was formatted. It made it so the characters and evidence were presented so that I could play detective too.

    It was bit slow to start, but then it took off and it was pretty good. As the mystery came to light I was thinking, "This is impossible. How can all these people be on the train at the same time and have this one connection?" I forced myself to keep on reading and then it all made sense. I thought Christie wrapped it up nicely.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    One of the most famous detective novels of all time and the first Agathie Christie novel I've read. I've come across her work before in TV shows and it was about time I read one of her books.

    A well planned and executed story I had picked up bits and pieces as it went but I hadn't guessed the ending. I really enjoyed this book and if her other works are as good I can see why her works are so loved.

    The only issue I had with the book was the belief that all readers are fluent in French. It annoyed me a lot (and is the reason it is only 4 stars) to be reading a sentence that suddenly has a French word in it. Or somebody be saying something, and we know they're already speaking French, and midsentence it changes language. I had to keep a translation app beside me. Overall it's a minor thing but it kept pulling me out of the story to find out what it was they said.

    But I still very much look forward to reading more Agatha Christie novels in time.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    “The impossible could not have happened, therefore the impossible must be possible in spite of appearances.”

    Il più famoso omicidio su un treno e uno dei titoli più noti con protagonista Poirot.
    Il romanzo è pura indagine: c'è l'omicidio, ci sono le prove e le testimonianze e c'è una conclusione spettacolare (l'avevo già letto ma per fortuna l'avevo dimenticata).
    Il lettore per molti aspetti può sfidare Poirot, anche se molti dettagli dipendono da una conoscenza della società dell'epoca.
    Questi come nessun altro sono gialli di puro ragionamento ed è un piacere seguire Poirot nelle sue elucubrazioni fino alla soluzione.

    ---
    The most famous murder on a train and one of the best known adventure starring Hercule Poirot.
    The novel is the investigation: there is a murder, there are evidences and there is an amazing conclusion (I had previously read this novel but luckily I forgot about it).
    The reader can challenge Poirot for various deductions, however some derives from a deep knowledge of that society.
    These novels are based on the pure reasoning and it's a pleasure following Poirot in his deep thinking until the solution.
  • Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
    4/5
    Solidly entertaining with an ending that I did not expect. A little on the dry side. There's a lot more talking than action. Poirot and his friends spend much of their time mulling over the details of the case and interviewing subjects than getting "their hands dirty" so to speak.

    But it's a very short and entertaining book. Any longer and the above criticism would have made it seem unwelcome. But I recommend it to anyone even remotely interested in mystery.

Book preview

Murder on the Orient Express - Agatha Christie

Part One

The Facts

One

An Important Passenger on the Taurus Express

It was five o’clock on a winter’s morning in Syria. Alongside the platform at Aleppo stood the train grandly designated in railway guides as the Taurus Express. It consisted of a kitchen and dining car, a sleeping car and two local coaches.

By the step leading up into the sleeping car stood a young French lieutenant, resplendent in uniform, conversing with a small lean man, muffled up to the ears, of whom nothing was visible but a pink-tipped nose and the two points of an upward curled moustache.

It was freezingly cold, and this job of seeing off a distinguished stranger was not one to be envied, but Lieutenant Dubosc performed his part manfully. Graceful phrases fell from his lips in polished French. Not that he knew what it was all about. There had been rumours, of course, as there always were in such cases. The General—his General’s—temper had grown worse and worse. And then there had come this Belgian stranger—all the way from England, it seemed. There had been a week—a week of curious tensity. And then certain things had happened. A very distinguished officer had committed suicide, another had resigned—anxious faces had suddenly lost their anxiety, certain military precautions were relaxed. And the General—Lieutenant Dubosc’s own particular General—had suddenly looked ten years younger.

Dubosc had overheard part of a conversation between him and the stranger. "You have saved us, mon cher, said the General emotionally, his great white moustache trembling as he spoke. You have saved the honour of the French Army—you have averted much bloodshed! How can I thank you for acceding to my request? To have come so far—"

To which the stranger (by name M. Hercule Poirot) had made a fitting reply including the phrase, But indeed do I not remember that once you saved my life? And then the General had made another fitting reply to that disclaiming any merit for that past service, and with more mention of France, of Belgium, of glory, of honour and of such kindred things they had embraced each other heartily and the conversation had ended.

As to what it had all been about, Lieutenant Dubosc was still in the dark, but to him had been delegated the duty of seeing off M. Poirot by the Taurus Express, and he was carrying it out with all the zeal and ardour befitting a young officer with a promising career ahead of him.

Today is Sunday, said Lieutenant Dubosc. Tomorrow, Monday evening, you will be in Stamboul.

It was not the first time he had made this observation. Conversations on the platform, before the departure of a train, are apt to be somewhat repetitive in character.

That is so, agreed M. Poirot.

And you intend to remain there a few days, I think?

"Mais oui. Stamboul, it is a city I have never visited. It would be a pity to pass through—comme ça. He snapped his fingers descriptively. Nothing presses—I shall remain there as a tourist for a few days."

La Sainte Sophie, it is very fine, said Lieutenant Dubosc, who had never seen it.

A cold wind came whistling down the platform. Both men shivered. Lieutenant Dubosc managed to cast a surreptitious glance at his watch. Five minutes to five—only five minutes more!

Fancying that the other man had noticed his surreptitious glance, he hastened once more into speech.

There are few people travelling this time of year, he said, glancing up at the windows of the sleeping car above them.

That is so, agreed M. Poirot.

Let us hope you will not be snowed up in the Taurus!

That happens?

It has occurred, yes. Not this year, as yet.

Let us hope, then, said M. Poirot. The weather reports from Europe, they are bad.

Very bad. In the Balkans there is much snow.

In Germany too, I have heard.

Eh bien, said Lieutenant Dubosc hastily as another pause seemed to be about to occur. Tomorrow evening at seven-forty you will be in Constantinople.

Yes, said M. Poirot, and went on desperately, La Sainte Sophie, I have heard it is very fine.

Magnificent, I believe.

Above their heads the blind of one of the sleeping car compartments was pushed aside and a young woman looked out.

Mary Debenham had had little sleep since she left Baghdad on the preceding Thursday. Neither in the train to Kirkuk, nor in the Rest House at Mosul, nor last night on the train had she slept properly. Now, weary of lying wakeful in the hot stuffiness of her overheated compartment, she got up and peered out.

This must be Aleppo. Nothing to see, of course. Just a long, poor-lighted platform with loud furious altercations in Arabic going on somewhere. Two men below her window were talking French. One was a French officer, the other was a little man with enormous moustaches. She smiled faintly. She had never seen anyone quite so heavily muffled up. It must be very cold outside. That was why they heated the train so terribly. She tried to force the window down lower, but it would not go.

The Wagon Lit conductor had come up to the two men. The train was about to depart, he said. Monsieur had better mount. The little man removed his hat. What an egg-shaped head he had. In spite of her preoccupations Mary Debenham smiled. A ridiculous-looking little man. The sort of little man one could never take seriously.

Lieutenant Dubosc was saying his parting speech. He had thought it out beforehand and had kept it till the last minute. It was a very beautiful, polished speech.

Not to be outdone, M. Poirot replied in kind.

En voiture, Monsieur, said the Wagon Lit conductor.

With an air of infinite reluctance M. Poirot climbed aboard the train. The conductor climbed after him. M. Poirot waved his hand. Lieutenant Dubosc came to the salute. The train, with a terrific jerk, moved slowly forward.

Enfin! murmured M. Hercule Poirot.

Brrrrr, said Lieutenant Dubosc, realizing to the full how cold he was….

II

Voilà, Monsieur. The conductor displayed to Poirot with a dramatic gesture the beauty of his sleeping compartment and the neat arrangement of his luggage. "The little valise of Monsieur, I have placed it here."

His outstretched hand was suggestive. Hercule Poirot placed in it a folded note.

Merci, Monsieur. The conductor became brisk and businesslike. I have the tickets of Monsieur. I will also take the passport, please. Monsieur breaks his journey in Stamboul, I understand?

M. Poirot assented.

There are not many people travelling, I imagine? he said.

No, Monsieur. I have only two other passengers—both English. A Colonel from India, and a young English lady from Baghdad. Monsieur requires anything?

Monsieur demanded a small bottle of Perrier.

Five o’clock in the morning is an awkward time to board a train. There was still two hours before dawn. Conscious of an inadequate night’s sleep, and of a delicate mission successfully accomplished, M. Poirot curled up in a corner and fell asleep.

When he awoke it was half-past nine, and he sallied forth to the restaurant car in search of hot coffee.

There was only one occupant at the moment, obviously the young English lady referred to by the conductor. She was tall, slim and dark—perhaps twenty-eight years of age. There was a kind of cool efficiency in the way she was eating her breakfast and in the way she called to the attendant to bring her more coffee, which bespoke a knowledge of the world and of travelling. She wore a dark-coloured travelling dress of some thin material eminently suitable for the heated atmosphere of the train.

M. Hercule Poirot, having nothing better to do, amused himself by studying her without appearing to do so.

She was, he judged, the kind of young woman who could take care of herself with perfect ease wherever she went. She had poise and efficiency. He rather liked the severe regularity of her features and the delicate pallor of her skin. He liked the burnished black head with its neat waves of hair, and her eyes, cool, impersonal and grey. But she was, he decided, just a little too efficient to be what he called jolie femme.

Presently another person entered the restaurant car. This was a tall man of between forty and fifty, lean of figure, brown of skin, with hair slightly grizzled round the temples.

The colonel from India, said Poirot to himself.

The newcomer gave a little bow to the girl.

Morning, Miss Debenham.

Good morning, Colonel Arbuthnot.

The Colonel was standing with a hand on the chair opposite her.

Any objection? he asked.

Of course not. Sit down.

Well, you know, breakfast isn’t always a chatty meal.

I should hope not. But I don’t bite.

The Colonel sat down.

Boy, he called in peremptory fashion.

He gave an order for eggs and coffee.

His eyes rested for a moment on Hercule Poirot, but they passed on indifferently. Poirot, reading the English mind correctly, knew that he had said to himself, Only some damned foreigner.

True to their nationality, the two English people were not chatty. They exchanged a few brief remarks, and presently the girl rose and went back to her compartment.

At lunch time the other two again shared a table and again they both completely ignored the third passenger. Their conversation was more animated than at breakfast. Colonel Arbuthnot talked of the Punjab, and occasionally asked the girl a few questions about Baghdad where it became clear that she had been in a post as governess. In the course of conversation they discovered some mutual friends which had the immediate effect of making them more friendly and less stiff. They discussed old Tommy Somebody and Jerry Someone Else. The Colonel inquired whether she was going straight through to England or whether she was stopping in Stamboul.

No, I’m going straight on.

Isn’t that rather a pity?

I came out this way two years ago and spent three days in Stamboul then.

Oh, I see. Well, I may say I’m very glad you are going right through, because I am.

He made a kind of clumsy little bow, flushing a little as he did so.

He is susceptible, our Colonel, thought Hercule Poirot to himself with some amusement. The train, it is as dangerous as a sea voyage!

Miss Debenham said evenly that that would be very nice. Her manner was slightly repressive.

The Colonel, Hercule Poirot noticed, accompanied her back to her compartment. Later they passed through the magnificent scenery of the Taurus. As they looked down towards the Cilician Gates, standing in the corridor side by side, a sigh came suddenly from the girl. Poirot was standing near them and heard her murmur:

It’s so beautiful! I wish—I wish—

Yes?

I wish, I could enjoy it!

Arbuthnot did not answer. The square line of his jaw seemed a little sterner and grimmer.

I wish to Heaven you were out of all this, he said.

Hush, please. Hush.

Oh! it’s all right. He shot a slightly annoyed glance in Poirot’s direction. Then he went on: But I don’t like the idea of your being a governess—at the beck and call of tyrannical mothers and their tiresome brats.

She laughed with just a hint of uncontrol in the sound.

"Oh! you mustn’t think that. The downtrodden governess is quite an exploded myth. I can assure you that it’s the parents who are afraid of being bullied by me."

They said no more. Arbuthnot was, perhaps, ashamed of his outburst.

Rather an odd little comedy that I watch here, said Poirot to himself thoughtfully.

He was to remember that thought of his later.

They arrived at Konya that night about half-past eleven. The two English travellers got out to stretch their legs, pacing up and down the snowy platform.

M. Poirot was content to watch the teeming activity of the station through a window pane. After about ten minutes, however, he decided that a breath of air would not perhaps be a bad thing, after all. He made careful preparations, wrapping himself in several coats and mufflers and encasing his neat boots in goloshes. Thus attired he descended gingerly to the platform and began to pace its length. He walked out beyond the engine.

It was the voices which gave him the clue to the two indistinct figures standing in the shadow of a traffic van. Arbuthnot was speaking.

Mary—

The girl interrupted him.

"Not now. Not now. When it’s all over. When it’s behind us—then—"

Discreetly M. Poirot turned away. He wondered.

He would hardly have recognized the cool, efficient voice of Miss Debenham….

Curious, he said to himself.

The next day he wondered whether, perhaps, they had quarrelled. They spoke little to each other. The girl, he thought, looked anxious. There were dark circles under her eyes.

It was about half-past two in the afternoon when the train came to a halt. Heads were poked out of windows. A little knot of men were clustered by the side of the line looking and pointing at something under the dining car.

Poirot leaned out and spoke to the Wagon Lit conductor who was hurrying past. The man answered and Poirot drew back his head and, turning, almost collided with Mary Debenham who was standing just behind him.

What is the matter? she asked rather breathlessly in French. Why are we stopping?

It is nothing, Mademoiselle. It is something that has caught fire under the dining car. Nothing serious. It is put out. They are now repairing the damage. There is no danger, I assure you.

She made a little abrupt gesture, as though she were waving the idea of danger aside as something completely unimportant.

"Yes, yes, I understand that. But the time!"

The time?

Yes, this will delay us.

It is possible—yes, agreed Poirot.

But we can’t afford delay! The train is due in at 6:55 and one has to cross the Bosphorus and catch the Simplon Orient Express the other side at nine o’clock. If there is an hour or two of delay we shall miss the connection.

It is possible, yes, he admitted.

He looked at her curiously. The hand that held the window bar was not quite steady, her lips too were trembling.

Does it matter to you very much, Mademoiselle? he asked.

Yes. Yes, it does. I—I must catch that train.

She turned away from him and went down the corridor to join Colonel Arbuthnot.

Her anxiety, however, was needless. Ten minutes later the train started again. It arrived at Haydapassar only five minutes late, having made up time on the journey.

The Bosphorus was rough and M. Poirot did not enjoy the crossing. He was separated from his travelling companions on the boat, and did not see them again.

On arrival at the Galata Bridge he drove straight to the Tokatlian Hotel.

Two

The Tokatlian Hotel

At the Tokatlian, Hercule Poirot asked for a room with bath. Then he stepped over to the concierge’s desk and inquired for letters.

There were three waiting for him and a telegram. His eyebrows rose a little at the sight of the telegram. It was unexpected.

He opened it in his usual neat, unhurried fashion. The printed words stood out clearly.

Development you predicted in Kassner Case has come unexpectedly please return immediately.

Voilà ce qui est embêtant, murmured Poirot vexedly. He glanced up at the clock.

I shall have to go on tonight, he said to the concierge. At what time does the Simplon Orient leave?

At nine o’clock, Monsieur.

Can you get me a sleeper?

Assuredly, Monsieur. There is no difficulty this time of year. The trains are almost empty. First-class or second?

First.

"Très bien, Monsieur. How far are you going?"

To London.

"Bien, Monsieur. I will get you a ticket to London and reserve your sleeping car accommodation in the Stamboul-Calais coach."

Poirot glanced at the clock again. It was ten minutes to eight.

I have time to dine?

But assuredly, Monsieur.

The little Belgian nodded. He went over and cancelled his room order and crossed the hall to the restaurant.

As he was giving his order to the waiter a hand was placed on his shoulder.

"Ah! mon vieux, but this is an unexpected pleasure," said a voice behind him.

The speaker was a short, stout elderly man, his hair cut en brosse. He was smiling delightedly.

Poirot sprang up.

M. Bouc.

M. Poirot.

M. Bouc was a Belgian, a director of the Compagnie Internationale des Wagons Lits, and his acquaintance with the former star of the Belgian Police Force dated back many years.

"You find yourself far from home, mon cher," said M. Bouc.

A little affair in Syria.

Ah! And you return home—when?

Tonight.

Splendid! I, too. That is to say, I go as far as Lausanne, where I have affairs. You travel on the Simplon-Orient, I presume?

Yes. I have just asked them to get me a sleeper. It was my intention to remain here some days, but I have received a telegram recalling me to England on important business.

Ah! sighed M. Bouc. "Les affaires—les affaires! But you—you are at the top of the tree nowadays, mon vieux!"

Some little success I have had, perhaps. Hercule Poirot tried to look modest but failed signally.

Bouc laughed.

We will meet later, he said.

Hercule Poirot addressed himself to the task of keeping his moustaches out of the soup.

That difficult task accomplished, he glanced round him whilst waiting for the next course. There were only about half a dozen people in the restaurant, and of those half-dozen there were only two that interested Hercule Poirot.

These two sat at a table not far away. The younger was a likeable-looking man of thirty, clearly an American. It was, however, not he but his companion who had attracted the little detective’s attention.

He was a man of between sixty and seventy. From a little distance he had the bland aspect of a philanthropist. His slightly bald head, his domed forehead, the smiling mouth that displayed a very white set of false teeth, all seemed to speak of a benevolent personality. Only the eyes belied this assumption. They were small, deep set and crafty. Not only that. As the man, making some remark to his young companion, glanced across the room, his gaze stopped on Poirot for a moment, and just for that second there was a strange malevolence, and unnatural tensity in the glance.

Then he rose.

Pay the bill, Hector, he said.

His voice was slightly husky in tone. It had a queer, soft, dangerous quality.

When Poirot rejoined his friend in the lounge, the other two men were just leaving the hotel. Their luggage was being brought down. The younger was supervising the process. Presently he opened the glass door and said:

Quite ready now, Mr. Ratchett.

The elder man grunted an assent and passed out.

Eh bien, said Poirot. What do you think of those two?

They are Americans, said M. Bouc.

Assuredly they are Americans. I meant what did you think of their personalities?

The young man seemed quite agreeable.

And the other?

To tell you the truth, my friend, I did not care for him. He produced on me an unpleasant impression. And you?

Hercule Poirot was a moment before replying.

When he passed me in the restaurant, he said at last, I had a curious impression. It was as though a wild animal—an animal savage, but savage! you understand—had passed me by.

And yet he looked altogether of the most respectable.

"Précisément! The body—the cage—is everything of the most respectable—but through the bars, the wild animal looks out."

"You are fanciful, mon vieux," said M. Bouc.

It may be so. But I could not rid myself of the impression that evil had passed me by very close.

That respectable American gentleman?

That respectable American gentleman.

Well, said M. Bouc cheerfully. It may be so. There is much evil in the world.

At that moment the door opened and the concierge came towards them. He looked concerned and apologetic.

It is extraordinary, Monsieur, he said to Poirot. There is not one first-class sleeping berth to be had on the train.

Comment? cried M. Bouc. "At this time of year? Ah, without doubt there is some party of

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