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man Cassetti was arrested as the head of the gang who had kidnapped the child. They had used the same methods in the past. If the police seemed likely to get on their trail, they killed their prisoner, hid the body, and continued to extract as much money as possible before the crime was discovered.
    “Now, I will make clear to you this, my friend. Cassetti was the man! But by means of the enormous wealth he had piled up, and owing to the secret hold he had over various persons, he was acquitted on some technical inaccuracy. Notwithstanding that, he would have been lynched by the populace had he not been clever enough to give them the slip. It is now clear to me what happened. He changed his name and left America. Since then he has been a gentleman of leisure, travelling abroad and living on hisrentes .”
    “Ah! quel animal!” M. Bouc’s tone was redolent of heartfelt disgust. “I cannot regret that he is dead-not at all!”
    “I agree with you.”
    “Tout de même, it is not necessary that he should be killed on the Orient Express. There are other places.”
    Poirot smiled a little. He realised that M. Bouc was biased in the matter.
    “The question we have now to ask ourselves is this,” he said. “Is this murder the work of some rival gang whom Cassetti had double-crossed in the past, or is it an act of private vengeance?”
    He explained his discovery of the few words on the charred fragment of paper.
    “If I am right in my assumption, then, the letter was burnt by the murderer. Why? Because it mentioned the name ‘Armstrong,’ which is the clue to the mystery.”
    “Are there any members of the Armstrong family living?”
    “That, unfortunately, I do not know. I think I remember reading of a younger sister of Mrs. Armstrong’s.”
    Poirot went on to relate the joint conclusions of himself and Dr. Constantine. M. Bouc brightened at the mention of the broken watch.
    “That seems to give us the time of the crime very exactly.”
    “Yes,” said Poirot. “It is very convenient.”
    There was an indescribable something in his tone that made both the other two look at him curiously.
    “You say that you yourself heard Ratchett speak to the conductor at twenty minutes to one?” asked M. Bouc.
    Poirot related just what had occurred.
    “Well,” said M. Bouc, “that proves at least that Cassetti-or Ratchett, as I shall continue to call him-was certainly alive at twenty minutes to one.”
    “Twenty-three minutes to one, to be precise.”
    ‘Then at twelve thirty-seven, to put it formally, Mr. Ratchett was alive. That isone fact, at least.”
    Poirot did not reply. He sat looking thoughtfully in front of him.
    There was a tap on the door and the restaurant attendant entered.
    “The restaurant car is free now, Monsieur,” he said.
    “We will go there,” said M. Bouc, rising.
    “I may accompany you?” asked Constantine.
    “Certainly, my dear doctor. Unless M. Poirot has any objection?”
    “Not at all. Not at all,” said Poirot.
    After a little politeness in the matter of precedence-“Après vous, Monsieur”-“Mais non, après vous”-they left the compartment.

Murder on the Orient Express

PART II
    THE EVIDENCE

Murder on the Orient Express
    1
    THE EVIDENCE OF THE WAGON LIT CONDUCTOR
    In the restaurant car all was in readiness.
    Poirot and M. Bouc sat together on one side of a table. The doctor sat across the aisle.
    On the table in front of Poirot was a plan of the Istanbul-Calais coach with the names of the passengers marked in red ink. The passports and tickets were in a pile at one side. There was writing paper, ink, pen, and pencils.
    “Excellent,” said Poirot. “We can open our Court of Inquiry without more ado. First, I think, we should take the evidence of the Wagon Lit conductor. You probably know something about the man. What character has he? Is he a man on whose word you would place reliance?”
    “I should say so, most assuredly. Pierre Michel has been employed by the company for