Murder on the Orient Express

Agatha Christie 
™
 MURDER ON THE ORIENT EXPRESS 
56
“No. They moved in a very exclusive circle. But I’ve always heard that Mrs. Armstrong was a 
perfectly lovely woman and that her husband worshipped her.” 
“Well, Mrs. Hubbard, you have helped us very much—very much indeed. Perhaps you will 
give me your full name?” 
“Why, certainly. Caroline Martha Hubbard.” 
“Will you write your address down here?” 
Mrs. Hubbard did so, without ceasing to speak. “I just can’t get over it. Cassetti—on this 
train. I had a hunch about that man, didn’t I, Mr. Poirot?” 
“Yes, indeed, Madame. By the way, have you a scarlet silk dressing-gown?” 
“Mercy, what a funny question! Why, no. I’ve got two dressing-gowns with me—a pink 
flannel one that’s kind of cosy for on board ship, and one my daughter gave me as a present—a 
kind of local affair in purple silk. But what in creation do you want to know about my dressing-
gowns for?” 
“Well, you see, Madame, someone in a scarlet kimono entered either your or Mr. Ratchett’s 
compartment last night. It is, as you said just now, very difficult when all the doors are shut to 
know which compartment is which.” 
“Well, no one in a scarlet dressing-gown came into my compartment.” 
“Then she must have gone into Mr. Ratchett’s.” 
Mrs. Hubbard pursed her lips together and said grimly: “That wouldn’t surprise me any.” 
Poirot leaned forward. “So you heard a woman’s voice next door?” 
“I don’t know how you guessed that, Mr. Poirot. I don’t really. But—well—as a matter of 
fact, I 
did
.” 
“But when I asked you just now if you heard anything next door, you only said you heard Mr. 
Ratchett snoring.” 
“Well, that was true enough. He 
did
snore part of the time. As for the other—” Mrs. Hubbard 
got rather embarrassed. “It isn’t a very nice thing to speak about.” 
“What time was it when you heard a woman’s voice?” 
“I can’t tell you. I just woke up for a minute and heard a woman talking, and it was plain 
enough where she was. So I just thought, ‘Well, 
that’s
the kind of man he is! I’m not 
surprised’—and then I went to sleep again. And I’m sure I should never have mentioned 
anything of the kind to three strange gentlemen if you hadn’t dragged it out of me.” 
“Was it before the scare about the man in your compartment, or after?” 
“Why, that’s like what you said just now! He wouldn’t have had a woman talking to him if he 
were dead, would he?” 
“
Pardon
. You must think me very stupid, Madame.” 
“I guess even you get kinda muddled now and then. I just can’t get over its being that monster 
Cassetti. What my daughter will say—” 
Poirot managed adroitly to help the good lady to replace the contents of her handbag, and he 
then shepherded her towards the door. 
At the last moment, he said: 
“You have dropped your handkerchief, Madame.” 
Mrs. Hubbard looked at the little scrap of cambric he held out to her. 
“That’s not mine, Mr. Poirot. I’ve got mine right here.” 
“
Pardon
. I thought as it had the initial H on it—” 

---