Murder on the Orient Express

Agatha Christie 
™
 MURDER ON THE ORIENT EXPRESS 
48
“I couldn’t say. I didn’t really notice. You see I was arguing a point with Arbuthnot. I just 
seem to remember a glimpse of some scarlet silk affair passing the door. I didn’t look, and 
anyway I wouldn’t have seen the person’s face. As you know, my carriage faces the dining-car 
end of the train, so a woman going along the corridor in that direction would have her back to me 
as soon as she’d passed.” 
Poirot nodded. “She was going to the toilet, I presume?” 
“I suppose so.” 
“And you saw her return?” 
“Well, no, now that you mention it, I didn’t notice her returning but I suppose she must have 
done so.” 
“One more question. Do you smoke a pipe, Mr. MacQueen?” 
“No, sir, I do not.” 
Poirot paused a moment. “I think that is all at present. I should now like to see the valet of Mr. 
Ratchett. By the way, did both you and he always travel second-class?” 
“He did. But I usually went first—if possible in the compartment adjoining Mr. Ratchett’s. 
Then he had most of his baggage put in my compartment and yet could get at both it and me 
easily whenever he chose. But on this occasion all the first-class berths were booked except the 
one that he took.” 
“I comprehend. Thank you, Mr. MacQueen.” 

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