Murder on the Orient Express. Agatha Christie
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Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by Collins 1934
Copyright © 1934 Agatha Christie Ltd. All rights reserved.
Cover by www.designedbydavid.co.uk © HarperCollins/Agatha Christie Ltd 2018
Agatha Christie asserts the moral right to be identified as the author for this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
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Source ISBN: 9780007119318
Ebook Edition © OCTOBER 2010 ISBN: 9780007422579
Version: 2019-03-28
To M.E.L.M. Arpachiya, 1933
Contents
Copyright
Part 1 The Facts
1 An Important Passenger on the Taurus Express
2 The Tokatlian Hotel
3 Poirot Refuses a Case
4 A Cry In The Night
5 The Crime
6 A Woman?
7 The Body
8 The Armstrong Kidnapping Case
Part 2 The Evidence
1 The Evidence of the Wagon Lit Conductor
2 The Evidence of the Secretary
3 The Evidence of the Valet
4 The Evidence of the American Lady
5 The Evidence of the Swedish Lady
6 The Evidence of the Russian Princess
7 The Evidence of Count and Countess Andrenyi
8 The Evidence of Colonel Arbuthnot
9 The Evidence of Mr Hardman
10 The Evidence of the Italian
11 The Evidence of Miss Debenham
12 The Evidence of the German Lady’s-Maid
13 Summary of the Passengers’ Evidence
14 The Evidence of the Weapon
15 The Evidence of the Passengers’ Luggage
Part 3 Hercule Poirot Sits Back and Thinks
1 Which of Them?
2 Ten Questions
3 Certain Suggestive Points
4 The Grease Spot on a Hungarian Passport
5 The Christian Name of Princess Dragomiroff
6 A Second Interview with Colonel Arbuthnot
7 The Identity of Mary Debenham
8 Further Surprising Revelations
9 Poirot Propounds Two Solutions
Extract from Closed Casket, the new Hercule Poirot novel by Sophie Hannah
About Agatha Christie
The Agatha Christie Collection
About the Publisher
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,