Murder on the Orient Express - Agatha Christie [50]
‘It is an idea, that,’ said M. Bouc, his face lighting up. Then it clouded over again. ‘But there is one objection—’
Poirot took the words out of his mouth.
‘The height of the man. It is that you would say? With the exception of M. Ratchett’s valet, all the passengers are big men—the Italian, Colonel Arbuthnot, Hector MacQueen, Count Andrenyi. Well, that leaves us the valet—not a very likely supposition. But there is another possibility. Remember the “womanish” voice. That gives us a choice of alternatives. The man may be disguised as a woman, or, alternatively, he may actually be awoman. A tall woman dressed in man’s clothes would look small.’
‘But surely Ratchett would have known—’
‘Perhaps he did know. Perhaps, already this woman had attempted his life wearing men’s clothes the better to accomplish her purpose. Ratchett may have guessed that she would use the same trick again, so he tells Hardman to look for a man. But he mentions, however, a womanish voice.’
‘It is a possibility,’ said M. Bouc. ‘But—’
‘Listen, my friend, I think that I should now tell you of certain inconsistencies noticed by Dr Constantine.’
He retailed at length the conclusions that he and the doctor had arrived at together from the nature of the dead man’s wounds. M. Bouc groaned and held his head again.
‘I know,’ said Poirot sympathetically. ‘I know exactly how you feel. The head spins, does it not?’
‘The whole thing is a fantasy,’ cried M. Bouc.
‘Exactly. It is absurd—improbable—it cannot be. So I myself have said. And yet, my friend, there it is! One cannot escape from the facts.’
‘It is madness!’
‘Is it not? It is so mad, my friend, that sometimes I am haunted by the sensation that really it must be very simple…
‘But that is only one of my “little ideas.”…’
‘Two murderers,’ groaned M. Bouc. ‘And on the Orient Express.’
The thought almost made him weep.
‘And now let us make the fantasy more fantastic,’ said Poirot cheerfully. ‘Last night on the train there are two mysterious strangers. There is the Wagon Lit attendant answering to the description given us by M. Hardman, and seen by Hildegarde Schmidt, Colonel Arbuthnot and M. MacQueen. There is also a woman in a red kimono—a tall, slim woman—seen by Pierre Michel, by Miss Debenham, by M. MacQueen and by myself—and smelt, I may say, by Colonel Arbuthnot! Who was she? No one on the train admits to having a scarlet kimono. She, too, has vanished. Was she one and the same with the spurious Wagon Lit attendant? Or was she some quite distinct personality? Where are they, these two? And, incidentally, where is the Wagon Lit uniform and the scarlet kimono?’
‘Ah! that is something definite.’ M. Bouc sprang up eagerly. ‘We must search all the passengers’ luggage. Yes, that will be something.’
Poirot rose also.
‘I will make a prophecy,’ he said.
‘You know where they are?’
‘I have a little idea.’
‘Where, then?’
‘You will find the scarlet kimono in the baggage of one of the men and you will find the uniform of the Wagon Lit conductor in the baggage of Hildegarde Schmidt.’
‘Hildegarde Schmidt? You think—’
‘Not what you are thinking. I will put it like this. If Hildegarde Schmidt is guilty, the uniform might be found in her baggage—but if she is innocent it certainly will be.’
‘But how—’ began M. Bouc and stopped.
‘What is this noise that approaches?’ he cried. ‘It resembles a locomotive in motion.’
The noise drew nearer. It consisted of shrill cries and protests in a woman’s voice. The door at the end of the dining-car flew open. Mrs Hubbard burst in.
‘It’s too horrible,’ she cried. ‘It’s just too horrible. In my sponge-bag. My sponge-bag. A great knife—all over blood.’
And, suddenly toppling forward, she fainted heavily on M. Bouc’s shoulder.
Chapter 14
The Evidence of the Weapon
With more vigour than chivalry, M. Bouc deposited the fainting lady with her head on the table. Dr