“A pale mauve aba such as you buy in the East.”
Poirot nodded. Then he asked in a friendly tone: “Why are you taking this journey? A holiday?”
“Yes, I am going home for a holiday. But first I am going to Lausanne to stay with a sister for a week or so.”
“Perhaps you will be so amiable as to write me down the name and address of your sister?’
“With pleasure.”
She took the paper and pencil he gave her and wrote down the name and address as requested.
“Have you ever been in America, Mademoiselle?”
“No. I very nearly went once. I was to go with an invalid lady, but the plan was cancelled at the last moment. I much regretted this. They are very good, the Americans. They give much money to found schools and hospitals. And they are very practical.”
“Do you remember hearing of the Armstrong kidnapping case?”
“No, what was that?”
Poirot explained.
Greta Ohlsson was indignant. Her yellow bun of hair quivered with her emotion.
“That there are in the world such evil men! It tries one’s faith. The poor mother—my heart aches for her.”
The amiable Swede departed, her kindly face flushed, her eyes suffused with tears.
Poirot was writing busily on a sheet of paper.
“What is it you write there, my friend?” asked M. Bouc.
“Mon cher, it is my habit to be neat and orderly. I make here a little chronological table of events.”
He finished writing and passed the paper to M. Bouc.
9.15 Train leaves Belgrade.
about 9.40 Valet leaves Ratchett with sleeping draught beside him.
about 10.00 MacQueen leaves Ratchett.
about 10.40 Greta Ohlsson sees Ratchett (last seen alive). N.B. He was awake reading a book.
0.10 Train leaves Vincovci (late).
0.30 Train runs into a snowdrift.
0.37 Ratchett’s bell rings. Conductor answers it. Ratchett says: “Ce n’est rien. Je me suis trompé.”
about 1.17 Mrs. Hubbard thinks man is in her carriage. Rings for conductor.
M. Bouc nodded approval.
“That is very clear,” he said.
“There is nothing there that strikes you as at all odd?”
“No, it seems all quite clear and aboveboard. It seems quite plain that the crime was committed at 1.15. The evidence of the watch shows us that, and Mrs. Hubbard’s story fits in. For my mind, I will make a guess at the identity of the murderer. I say, my friend, that it is the big Italian. He comes from America—from Chicago—and remember an Italian’s weapon is the knife, and he stabs not once but several times.”
“That is true.”
“Without a doubt, that is the solution of the mystery. Doubtless he and this Ratchett were in this kidnapping business together. Cassetti is an Italian name. In some way Ratchett did on him what they call the double-cross. The Italian tracks him down, sends him warning letters first, and finally revenges himself upon him in a brutal way. It is all quite simple.”
Poirot shook his head doubtfully.
“It is hardly so simple as that, I fear,” he murmured.
“Me, I am convinced it is the truth,” said M. Bouc, becoming more and more enamoured of his theory.
“And what about the valet with the toothache who swears that the Italian never left the compartment?”
“That is the difficulty.”
Poirot twinkled.
“Yes, it is annoying, that. Unlucky for your theory, and extremely lucky for our Italian friend that M. Ratchett’s valet should have had the toothache.”
“It will be explained,” said M. Bouc with magnificent certainty.
Poirot shook his head again.
“No, it is hardly so simple as that,” he murmured again.
6
THE EVIDENCE OF THE RUSSIAN PRINCESS
“Let us hear what Pierre Michel has to say about this button,” he said.
The Wagon Lit conductor was recalled. He looked at them inquiringly.
M. Bouc cleared his throat.
“Michel,” he said, “here is a button from your tunic. It was found in the American lady’s compartment. What have you to say for yourself about it?”
The conductor’s hand went automatically to his tunic. “I have lost no button, Monsieur,” he said. “There must be some mistake.”
“That is very odd.”
“I cannot account for it, Monsieur.” The man seemed astonished, but not in any way guilty or confused.