15. The Evidence of the Passengers’ Luggage

           Havingdeliveredhimselfofvariouspoliteinsincerities,andhavingtoldMrs.Hubbardthathewouldordercoffeetobebroughttoher,Poirotwasabletotakehisleaveaccompaniedbyhistwofriends.

           “Well,wehavemadeastartanddrawnablank,”observedM.Bouc.“Whomshallwetacklenext?”

           “Itwouldbesimplest,Ithink,justtoproceedalongthetraincarriagebycarriage.ThatmeansthatwestartwithNo.16—theamiableM.Hardman.”

           Mr.Hardman,whowassmokingacigar,welcomedthemaffably.

           “Comerightin,gentlemen—thatis,ifit’shumanlypossible.It’sjustamitecrampedinhereforaparty.”

           M.Boucexplainedtheobjectoftheirvisit,andthebigdetectivenoddedcomprehendingly.

           “That’sO.K.Totellthetruth,I’vebeenwonderingyoudidn’tgetdowntoitsooner.Herearemykeys,gentlemenandifyouliketosearchmypocketstoo,why,you’rewelcome.ShallIreachthegripsdownforyou?”

           “Theconductorwilldothat.Michel!”

           ThecontentsofMr.Hardman’stwo“grips”weresoonexaminedandpassed.Theycontainedperhapsanundueproportionofspirituousliquor.Mr.Hardmanwinked.

           “It’snotoftentheysearchyourgripsatthefrontiers—notifyoufixtheconductor.IhandedoutawadofTurkishnotesrightaway,andthere’sbeennotroublesofar.”

           “AndatParis?”

           Mr.Hardmanwinkedagain.

           “BythetimeIgettoParis,”hesaid,“what’sleftoverofthislittlelotwillgointoabottlelabelledhairwash.”

           “YouarenotabelieverinProhibition,MonsieurHardman,”saidM.Boucwithasmile.

           “Well,”saidHardman.