Murder on the Orient Express

Agatha Christie 
™
 MURDER ON THE ORIENT EXPRESS 
107
“You reason well,” said Poirot. 
“Question No. 3—Who wore the scarlet kimono!” went on M. Bouc. “As to that, I will 
confess I have not the slightest idea. Have you any views on the subject, Dr. Constantine?” 
“None.” 
“Then we confess ourselves beaten there. The next question has, at any rate, possibilities. 
Who was the man or the woman masquerading in Wagon Lit uniform? Well, one can list with 
certainty a number of people that it could not have been. Hardman, Colonel Arbuthnot, 
Foscarelli, Count Andrenyi and Hector MacQueen are all too tall. Mrs. Hubbard, Hildegarde 
Schmidt and Greta Ohlsson are too broad. That leaves the valet, Miss Debenham, Princess 
Dragomiroff and Countess Andrenyi—and none of them sounds likely! Greta Ohlsson in one 
case, and Antonio Foscarelli in the other, both swear that Miss Debenham and the valet never left 
their compartments. Hildegarde Schmidt swears that the Princess was in hers, and Count 
Andrenyi has told us that his wife took a sleeping draught. Therefore it seems impossible that it 
can be anybody—which is absurd!” 
“As our old friend Euclid says,” murmured Poirot. 
“It must be one of those four,” said Dr. Constantine. “Unless it is someone from outside who 
has found a hiding-place—and that we agreed was impossible.” 
M. Bouc had passed on to the next question on the list. 
“No. 5—Why do the hands of the broken watch point to 1.15? I can see two explanations of 
that. Either it was done by the murderer to establish an alibi, and afterwards, when he meant to 
leave the compartment, he was prevented by hearing people moving about; or else—wait—I 
have an idea coming—” 
The other two waited respectfully while M. Bouc struggled in mental agony. 
“I have it,” he said at last. “It was not the Wagon Lit murderer who tampered with the watch! 
It was the person we have called the Second Murderer—the left-handed person—in other words 
the woman in the scarlet kimono. She arrives later and moves back the hands of the watch in 
order to make an alibi for herself.” 
“Bravo said Dr. Constantine. “It is well imagined, that.” 
“In fact,” said Poirot, “she stabbed him in the dark, not realizing that he was dead already, but 
somehow deduced that he had a watch in his pyjama pocket, took it out, put back the hands 
blindly, and gave it the requisite dent.” 
M. Bouc looked at him coldly. “Have you anything better to suggest, yourself?” he asked. “At 
the moment—no,” admitted Poirot. “All the same,” he went on, “I do not think you have either 
of you appreciated the most interesting point about that watch.” 
“Does question No. 6 deal with it?” asked the doctor. “To that question—Was the murder 
committed at that time, 1.15?—I answer 
No
.” 
“I agree,” said M. Bouc. “’Was it earlier?’ is the next question. I say—Yes! You, too, 
doctor?” 
The doctor nodded. “Yes, but the question ‘Was it later?’ can also be answered in the 
affirmative. I agree with your theory, M. Bouc, and so, I think, does M. Poirot, although he does 
not wish to commit himself. The First Murderer came earlier than 1. 15, but the Second 
Murderer came 
after
1.15. And as regards the question of left-handedness, ought we not to take 
steps to ascertain which of the passengers is left-handed?” 
“I have not completely neglected that point,” said Poirot. “You may have noticed that I made 
each passenger write either a signature or an address. That is not conclusive, because some 
people do certain actions with the right hand and others with the left. Some write right-handed, 

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