Murder on the Orient Express

Agatha Christie 
™
 MURDER ON THE ORIENT EXPRESS 
124
“Countess Andrenyi? No.” She shook her head. “It may seem extraordinary to you—but I did 
not recognise her. She was not grown up, you see, when I knew her. That was over three years 
ago. It is true that the Countess reminded me of someone; it puzzled me. But she looks so 
foreign—I never connected her with the little American schoolgirl. I only glanced at her casually 
when coming into the restaurant car, and I noticed her clothes more than her face.” She smiled 
faintly. “Women do! And then—well—I had my own preoccupations.” 
“You will not tell me your secret, Mademoiselle?” 
Poirot’s voice was very gentle and persuasive. 
She said in a low voice, “I can’t—I can’t.” 
And suddenly, without warning, she broke down, dropping her face down upon her 
outstretched arms and crying as though her heart would break. 
The Colonel sprang up and stood awkwardly beside her. 
“I—look here—” 
He stopped and turning round scowled fiercely at Poirot. 
“I’ll break every bone in your damned body, you dirty little whipper-snapper,” he said. 
“Monsieur,” protested M. Bouc. 
Arbuthnot had turned back to the girl. “Mary—for God’s sake—” 
She sprang up. “It’s nothing. I’m all right. You don’t need me any more, do you, M. Poirot? If 
you do, you must come and find me. Oh, what an idiot—what an idiot I’m making of myself!” 
She hurried out of the car. 
Arbuthnot, before following her, turned once more on Poirot. 
“Miss Debenham’s got nothing to do with this business—nothing, do you hear? And if she’s 
worried and interfered with, you’ll have me to deal with.” He strode out. 
“I like to see an angry Englishman,” said Poirot. “They are very amusing. The more 
emotional they feel, the less command they have of language.” 
But M. Bouc was not interested in the emotional reactions of Englishmen. He was overcome 
by admiration of his friend. 
“
Mon cher, vous êtes épatant
!” he cried. “Another miraculous guess.” 
“It is incredible how you think of these things,” said Dr. Constantine admiringly. 
“Oh, I claim no credit this time. It was not a guess. Countess Andrenyi practically told me.” 
“
Comment
? Surely not?” 
“You remember, I asked her about her governess or companion? I had already decided in my 
mind that 
if
Mary Debenham were mixed up in the matter, she must have figured in the 
household in some such capacity.” 
“Yes, but the Countess Andrenyi described a totally different person.” 
“Exactly. A tall middle-aged woman with red hair—in fact, the exact opposite in every 
respect of Miss Debenham, so much so as to be quite remarkable. But then she had to invent a 
name quickly, and there it was that the unconscious association of ideas gave her away. She said, 
Miss Freebody, you remember.” 
“Yes?” 
“
Eh bien
, you may not know it, but there is a shop in London that was called until recently 
Debenham & Freebody. With the name Debenham running in her head, the Countess clutches at 
another name quickly, and the first that comes is Freebody. Naturally I understood immediately.” 
“That is yet another lie. Why did she do it?’ 
“Possibly more loyalty. It makes things a little difficult.” 
“
Ma foi
!” said M. Bouc with violence. “But does everybody on this train tell lies?” 

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