Murder on the Orient Express

Agatha Christie 
™
 MURDER ON THE ORIENT EXPRESS 
86
13 
SUMMARY OF THE PASSENGERS’ EVIDENCE 
“A small dark man with a womanish voice,” said M. Bouc. 
The three conductors and Hildegarde Schmidt had been dismissed. 
M. Bouc made a despairing gesture. “But I understand nothing—but nothing, of all of this! 
The enemy that this Ratchett spoke of, he was then on the train after all? But where is he now? 
How can he have vanished into thin air? My head, it whirls. Say something, then, my friend, I 
implore you. Show me how the impossible can be possible!” 
“It is a good phrase that,” said Poirot. “The impossible cannot have happened, therefore the 
impossible must be possible in spite of appearances.” 
“Explain to me, then, quickly, what actually happened on the train last night.” 
“I am not a magician, 
mon cher
. I am, like you, a very puzzled man. This affair advances in a 
very strange manner.” 
“It does not advance at all. It stays where it was.” 
Poirot shook his head. “No, that is not true. We are more advanced. We know certain things. 
We have heard the evidence of the passengers.” 
“And what has that told us? Nothing at all.” 
“I would not say that, my friend.” 
“I exaggerate, perhaps. The American Hardman, and the German maid—yes, they have added 
something to our knowledge. That is to say, they have made the whole business more 
unintelligible than it was.” 
“No, no, no,” said Poirot soothingly. 
M. Bouc turned upon him. “Speak, then, let us hear the wisdom of Hercule Poirot.” 
“Did I not tell you that I was, like you, a very puzzled man? But at least we can face our 
problem. We can arrange such facts as we have with order and method.” 
“Pray continue, Monsieur,” said Dr. Constantine. 
Poirot cleared his throat and straightened a piece of blotting-paper. 
“Let us review the case as it stands at this moment. First, there are certain indisputable facts. 
This man, Ratchett or Cassetti, was stabbed in twelve places and died last night. That is fact 
one.” 
“I grant it you—I grant it, 
mon vieux
,” said M. Bouc with a gesture of irony. 
Hercule Poirot was not at all put out. He continued calmly. 
“I will pass over for the moment certain rather peculiar appearances which Dr. Constantine 
and I have already discussed together. I will come to them presently. The next fact of 
importance, to my mind, is the 
time
of the crime.” 
“That, again, is one of the few things we do know,” said M. Bouc. “The crime was committed 
at a quarter past one this morning. Everything goes to show that that was so.” 
“Not 
everything
. You exaggerate. There is, certainly, a fair amount of evidence to support that 
view.” 
“I am glad you admit that at least.” 
Poirot went on calmly, unperturbed by the interruption. “We have before us three 
possibilities. 

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