14. The Evidence of the Weapon

           Withmorevigourthanchivalry,M.Boucdepositedthefaintingladywithherheadonthetable.Dr.Constantineyelledforoneoftherestaurantattendants,whocameatarun.

           “Keepherheadso,”saidthedoctor.“Ifsherevivesgiveheralittlecognac.Youunderstand?”

           Thenhehurriedoffaftertheothertwo.Hisinterestlaywhollyinthecrime—swooningmiddle-agedladiesdidnotinteresthimatall.

           ItispossiblethatMrs.Hubbardrevivedratherquickerwiththesemethodsthanshemightotherwisehavedone.Afewminuteslatershewassittingup,sippingcognacfromaglassprofferedbytheattendant,andtalkingoncemore.

           “Ijustcan’tsayhowterribleitwas.Idon’tsupposeanybodyonthistraincanunderstandmyfeelings.I’vealwaysbeenvurry,vurrysensitiveeversinceachild.Themeresightofblood—ugh—whyevennowIcomeoverqueerwhenIthinkaboutit.”

           Theattendantprofferedtheglassagain.

           “Encoreunpeu,Madame.”

           “D’youthinkI’dbetter?I’malifelongteetotaller.Ijustnevertouchspiritsorwineatanytime.Allmyfamilyareabstainers.Stillperhapsasthisisonlymedical—”

           Shesippedoncemore.

           InthemeantimePoirotandM.Bouc,closelyfollowedbyDr.Constantine,hadhurriedoutoftherestaurantcarandalongthecorridoroftheStamboulcoachtowardsMrs.Hubbard’scompartment.

           Everytravelleronthetrainseemedtobecongregatedoutsidethedoor.Theconductor,aharrassedlookonhisface,waskeepingthemback.

           “Maisiln’yarienàvoir,”hesaid,andrepeatedthesentimentinseveralotherlanguages.