Murder on the Orient Express - Agatha Christie [30]
‘I had,’ returned Mrs Hubbard promptly.
‘Oh, you had?’
‘Well, as a matter of fact, I asked that Swedish creature—a pleasant soul—if it was bolted, and she said it was.’
‘How was it you couldn’t see for yourself?’
‘Because I was in bed and my sponge-bag was hanging on the door handle.’
‘What time was it when you asked her to do this for you?’
‘Now let me think. It must have been round about half-past ten or a quarter to eleven. She’d come along to see if I’d got an aspirin. I told her where to find it, and she got it out of my grip.’
‘You yourself were in bed?’
‘Yes.’
Suddenly she laughed.
‘Poor soul—she was in quite a taking. You see, she’d opened the door of the next compartment by mistake.’
‘M. Ratchett’s?’
‘Yes. You know how difficult it is as you come along the train and all the doors are shut. She opened his by mistake. She was very distressed about it. He’d laughed, it seemed, and I fancy he may have said something not quite nice. Poor thing, she was all in a flutter. “Oh! I make mistake,” she said. “I ashamed make mistake. Not nice man,” she said. “He say, ‘You too old.’”’
Dr Constantine sniggered and Mrs Hubbard immediately froze him with a glance.
‘He wasn’t a nice kind of man,’ she said, ‘to say a thing like that to a lady. It’s not right to laugh at such things.’
Dr Constantine hastily apologized.
‘Did you hear any noise from M. Ratchett’s compartment after that?’ asked Poirot.
‘Well—not exactly.’
‘What do you mean by that, Madame?’
‘Well—’ she paused. ‘He snored.’
‘Ah! he snored, did he?’
‘Terribly. The night before it quite kept me awake.’
‘You didn’t hear him snore after you had had the scare about a man being in your compartment?’
‘Why, Mr Poirot, how could I? He was dead.’
‘Ah, yes, truly,’ said Poirot. He appeared confused.
‘Do you remember the affair of the Armstrong kidnapping, Mrs Hubbard?’ he asked.
‘Yes, indeed I do. And how the wretch that did it escaped scot free! My, I’d have liked to get my hands on him.’
‘He has not escaped. He is dead. He died last night.’
‘You don’t mean—?’ Mrs Hubbard half rose from her chair in excitement.
‘But yes, I do. Ratchett was the man.’
‘Well! Well, to think of that! I must write and tell my daughter. Now, didn’t I tell you last night that that man had an evil face? I was right, you see. My daughter always says: “When Momma’s got a hunch, you can bet your bottom dollar it’s O.K.”’
‘Were you acquainted with any of the Armstrong family, Mrs Hubbard?’
‘No. They moved in a very exclusive circle. But I’ve always heard that Mrs Armstrong was a perfectly lovely woman and that her husband worshipped her.’
‘Well, Mrs Hubbard, you have helped us very much—very much indeed. Perhaps you will give me your full name?’
‘Why, certainly. Caroline Martha Hubbard.’
‘Will you write your address down here?’
Mrs Hubbard did so, without ceasing to speak.
‘I just can’t get over it. Cassetti—on this train. I had a hunch about that man, didn’t I, Mr Poirot?’
‘Yes, indeed, Madame. By the way, have you a scarlet silk dressing-gown?’
‘Mercy, what an odd question! Why, no. I’ve got two dressing-gowns with me—a pink flannel one that’s kind of cosy for on board ship, and one my daughter gave me as a present—a kind of local affair in purple silk. But what in creation do you want to know about my dressing-gowns for?’
‘Well, you see, Madame, someone in a scarlet kimono entered either your or Mr Ratchett’s compartment last night. It is, as you said just now, very difficult when all the doors are shut to know which compartment is which.’
‘Well, no one in a scarlet dressing-gown came into my compartment.’
‘Then she must have gone into M. Ratchett’s.’
Mrs Hubbard pursed her lips together and said grimly:
‘That wouldn’t surprise me any.’
Poirot leaned forward.
‘So you heard a woman’s voice next door?’
‘I don’t know how you guessed that, Mr Poirot. I don’t really. But—well—as a matter of fact, I did.’
‘But when I asked you just now