Убийство в Восточном экспрессе
7. The Body
”
“Idonotunderstandmyself,”saidPoirot.“Iunderstandnothingatall,and,asyouperceive,itworriesme.”
Hesighedandbentoverthelittletable,examiningthecharredfragmentofpaper.Hemurmuredtohimself.
“WhatIneedatthismomentisanold-fashionedwoman’shatbox.”
Dr.Constantinewasatalosstoknowwhattomakeofthissingularremark.Inanycase,Poirotgavehimnotimeforquestions.Openingthedoorintothecorridor,hecalledfortheconductor.
Themanarrivedatarun.
“Howmanywomenarethereinthiscoach?”
Theconductorcountedonhisfingers.
“One,two,three—six,Monsieur.TheoldAmericanlady,aSwedishlady,theyoungEnglishlady,theCountessAndrenyiandMadamelaPrincessDragomiroffandhermaid.”
Poirotconsidered.
“Theyallhavehatboxes,yes?”
“Yes,Monsieur.”
“Thenbringme—letmesee—yes,theSwedishlady’sandthatofthelady’smaid.Thosetwoaretheonlyhope.Youwilltellthemitisacustomsregulation—something—anythingthatoccurstoyou.”
“ThatwillbeallrightMonsieur.Neitherladyisinhercompartmentatthemoment.”
“Thenbequick.”
Theconductordeparted.Hereturnedwiththetwohatboxes.Poirotopenedthatofthelady’smaidandtosseditaside.ThenheopenedtheSwedishlady’sandutteredanexclamationofsatisfaction.Removingthehatscarefully,hedisclosedroundhumpsofwirenetting.
“Ah,hereiswhatweneed.Aboutfifteenyearsagohatboxesweremadelikethis.Youskeweredthroughthehatwithahatpinontothishumpofwirenetting.
