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- Убийство в Восточном экспрессе
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- Стр. 220/327
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Every
traveller
on
the
train
seemed
to
be
congregated
outside
the
door
.
The
conductor
,
a
harrassed
look
on
his
face
,
was
keeping
them
back
.
"
Mais
il
n
'
y
a
rien
à
voir
,
"
he
said
,
and
repeated
the
sentiment
in
several
other
languages
.
"
Let
me
pass
,
if
you
please
,
"
said
M.
Bouc
.
Squeezing
his
rotundity
past
the
obstructing
passengers
,
he
entered
the
compartment
,
Poirot
close
behind
him
.
"
I
am
glad
you
have
come
Monsieur
,
"
said
the
conductor
with
a
sigh
of
relief
.
"
Everyone
has
been
trying
to
enter
.
The
American
lady
--
such
screams
as
she
gave
--
ma
foi
!
I
thought
she
too
had
been
murdered
!
I
came
at
a
run
and
there
she
was
screaming
like
a
mad
woman
,
and
she
cried
out
that
she
must
fetch
you
and
she
departed
,
screeching
at
the
top
of
her
voice
and
telling
everybody
whose
carriage
she
passed
what
had
occurred
.
"
He
added
,
with
a
gesture
of
the
hand
:
"
It
is
in
there
,
Monsieur
.
I
have
not
touched
it
.
"
Hanging
on
the
handle
of
the
door
that
gave
access
to
the
next
compartment
was
a
large-size
checked
rubber
sponge
bag
.
Below
it
on
the
floor
,
just
where
it
had
fallen
from
Mrs.
Hubbard
's
hand
,
was
a
straightbladed
dagger
--
a
cheap
affair
,
sham
Oriental
,
with
an
embossed
hilt
and
a
tapering
blade
.
The
blade
was
stained
with
patches
of
what
looked
like
rust
.
Poirot
picked
it
up
delicately
.
"
Yes
,
"
he
murmured
.
"
There
is
no
mistake
.
Here
is
our
missing
weapon
all
right
--
eh
,
docteur
?
"
