2. The Tokatlian Hotel

           AttheTokatlian,HerculePoirotaskedforaroomwithbath.Thenhesteppedovertotheconcierge’sdeskandinquiredforletters.

           Therewerethreewaitingforhimandatelegram.Hiseyebrowsrosealittleatthesightofthetelegram.Itwasunexpected.

           Heopeneditinhisusualneat,unhurriedfashion.Theprintedwordsstoodoutclearly.

           “DevelopmentyoupredictedinKassnerCasehascomeunexpectedlypleasereturnimmediately.”

           “Voilàcequiestembêtant,”murmuredPoirotvexedly.Heglancedupattheclock.

           “Ishallhavetogoontonight,”hesaidtotheconcierge.“AtwhattimedoestheSimplonOrientleave?”

           “Atnineo’clock,Monsieur.”

           “Canyougetmeasleeper?”

           “Assuredly,Monsieur.Thereisnodifficultythistimeofyear.Thetrainsarealmostempty.First-classorsecond?”

           “First.”

           “Trèsbien,Monsieur.Howfarareyougoing?”

           “ToLondon.”

           “Bien,Monsieur.IwillgetyouatickettoLondonandreserveyoursleepingcaraccommodationintheStamboul-Calaiscoach.”

           Poirotglancedattheclockagain.Itwastenminutestoeight.

           “Ihavetimetodine?”

           “Butassuredly,Monsieur.”

           ThelittleBelgiannodded.Hewentoverandcancelledhisroomorderandcrossedthehalltotherestaurant.

           Ashewasgivinghisordertothewaiterahandwasplacedonhisshoulder.

           “Ah!monvieux,butthisisanunexpectedpleasure,”saidavoicebehindhim.

           Thespeakerwasashort,stoutelderlyman,hishaircutenbrosse.Hewassmilingdelightedly.

           Poirotsprangup.

           “M.Bouc.”

           “M.Poirot.”

           M.