Murder on the Orient Express

Agatha Christie 
™
 MURDER ON THE ORIENT EXPRESS 
47
“Now, Mr. MacQueen, I want you to describe your movements last night from the time of 
leaving the dining-car.” 
“That’s quite easy. I went back to my compartment, read a bit, got out on the platform at 
Belgrade, decided it was too cold, and got in again. I talked for a while to a young English lady 
who is in the compartment next to mine. Then I fell into conversation with that Englishman, 
Colonel Arbuthnot—as a matter of fact I think you passed us as we were talking. Then I went in 
to Mr. Ratchett and, as I told you, took down some memoranda of letters he wanted written. I 
said good tight to him and left him. Colonel Arbuthnot was still standing in the corridor. His 
compartment was already made up for the night, so I suggested that he should come along to 
mine. I ordered a couple of drinks and we got right down to it. Discussed world politics and the 
Government of India and our own troubles with Prohibition and the Wall Street crisis. I don’t as 
a rule cotton to Britishers—they’re a stiff-necked lot—but I liked this one.” 
“Do you know what time it was when he left you?” 
“Pretty late. Nearly two o’clock, I should say.” 
“You noticed that the train had stopped?” 
‘Oh, yes. We wondered a bit. Looked out and saw the snow lying very thick, but we didn’t 
think it was serious.” 
“What happened when Colonel Arbuthnot finally said good night?” 
“He went along to his compartment and I called to the conductor to make up my bed.” 
“Where were you whilst he was making it?” 
“Standing just outside the door in the corridor smoking a cigarette.” 
“And then?” 
“And then I went to bed and slept till morning.” 
“During the evening did you leave the train at all?” 
“Arbuthnot and I thought we’d get out at—what was the name of the place?—Vincovci—to 
stretch our legs a bit. But it was bitterly cold—a blizzard on. We soon hopped back again.” 
“By which door did you leave the train?” 
“By the one nearest to our compartment.” 
“The one next to the dining-car?” 
“Yes.” 
“Do you remember if it was bolted?” 
MacQueen considered. 
“Why, yes, I seem to remember it was. At least there was a kind of bar that fitted across the 
handle. Is that what you mean?” 
“Yes. On getting back into the train did you replace that bar?” 
“Why, no—I don’t think I did. I got in last. No, I don’t seem to remember doing so.” He 
added suddenly, “Is that an important point?” 
“It may be. Now, I presume, Monsieur, that while you and Colonel Arbuthnot were sitting 
talking the door of your compartment into the corridor was open?” 
Hector MacQueen nodded. 
“I want you, if you can, to tell me if anyone passed along that corridor 
after
the train left 
Vincovci up to the time you parted company for the night.” 
MacQueen drew his brows together. 
“I think the conductor passed along once,” he said, “coming from the direction of the dining-
car. And a woman passed the other way, going towards it.” 
“Which woman?” 

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