Murder on the Orient Express

Agatha Christie 
™
 MURDER ON THE ORIENT EXPRESS 
131
“He thrust the dagger he had used into Mrs. Hubbard’s sponge-bag in passing. Without 
knowing it, he lost a button of his uniform. Then he slipped out of the compartment and along 
the corridor. He hastily thrust the uniform into a suitcase in an empty compartment, and a few 
minutes later, dressed in ordinary clothes, he left the train just before it started off, using the 
same means for egress—the door near the dining-car.” 
Everybody gasped. 
“What about that watch?” demanded Mr. Hardman. 
“There you have the explanation of the whole thing. 
Mr. Ratchett had omitted to put his watch 
back an hour as he should have done at Tzaribrod
. His watch still registered Eastern European 
time, which is one hour ahead of Central European time. It was a quarter past twelve when Mr. 
Ratchett was stabbed—not a quarter past one.” 
“But it is absurd, that explanation!” cried M. Bouc. “What of the voice that spoke from the 
compartment at twenty-three minutes to one? It was either the voice of Ratchett—or else that of 
his murderer.” 
“Not necessarily. It might have been—well—a third person. One who had gone in to speak to 
Ratchett and found him dead. He rang the bell to summon the conductor; then, as you express it, 
the wind rose in him—he was afraid of being accused of the crime, and he spoke pretending to 
be Ratchett.” 
“
C’est possible
,” admitted M. Bouc grudgingly. 
Poirot looked at Mrs. Hubbard. “Yes, Madame, you were going to say—” 
“Well, I don’t quite know what I was going to say. Do you think I forgot to put my watch 
back too?” 
“No, Madame. I think you heard the man pass through—but unconsciously. Later you had a 
nightmare of a man being in your compartment and woke up with a start and rang for the 
conductor.” 
“Well, I suppose that’s possible,” admitted Mrs. Hubbard. 
Princess Dragomiroff was looking at Poirot with a very direct glance. “How do you explain 
the evidence of my maid, Monsieur?” 
“Very simply, Madame. Your maid recognised the handkerchief I showed her as yours. She 
somewhat clumsily tried to shield you. She did encounter the man, but earlier—while the train 
was at Vincovci station. She pretended to have seen him at a later hour, with a confused idea of 
giving you a water-tight alibi.” 
The Princess bowed her head. “You have thought of everything, Monsieur. I—I admire you.” 
There was a silence. 
Then everyone jumped as Dr. Constantine suddenly hit the table a blow with his fist. 
“But no,” he said. “No, no, and again no! That is an explanation that will not hold water. It is 
deficient in a dozen minor points. The crime was not committed so—M. Poirot must know that 
perfectly well.” 
Poirot turned a curious glance on him. “I see,” he said, “that I shall have to give you my 
second solution. But do not abandon this one too abruptly. You may agree with it later.” 
He turned back again to face the others. 
“There is another possible solution of the crime. This is how I arrived at it. 
“When I had heard all the evidence, I leaned back and shut my eyes, and began to 
think
. 
Certain points presented themselves to me as worthy of attention. I enumerated these points to 
my two colleagues. Some I have already elucidated—such as a grease spot on a passport, and so 
on. I will run over the points that remain. The first and most important is a remark made to me by 

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