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"
We
locked
it
from
the
other
side
,
you
remember
,
"
said
the
doctor
.
"
That
is
true
,
"
said
Poirot
absently
.
He
seemed
to
be
thinking
about
something
else
.
His
brow
was
furrowed
as
though
in
perplexity
.
"
It
agrees
,
does
it
not
?
"
said
M.
Bouc
.
"
The
man
passes
through
this
carriage
.
As
he
shuts
the
communicating
door
behind
him
he
feels
the
sponge
bag
.
A
thought
comes
to
him
and
he
quickly
slips
the
bloodstained
knife
inside
.
Then
,
all
unwitting
that
he
has
awakened
Mrs.
Hubbard
,
he
slips
out
through
the
other
door
into
the
corridor
.
"
"
As
you
say
,
"
murmured
Poirot
.
"
That
is
how
it
must
have
happened
.
"
But
the
puzzled
look
did
not
leave
his
face
.
"
But
what
is
it
?
"
demanded
M.
Bouc
.
"
There
is
something
,
is
there
not
,
that
does
not
satisfy
you
?
"
Poirot
darted
a
quick
look
at
him
.
"
The
same
point
does
not
strike
you
?
No
,
evidently
not
.
Well
,
it
is
a
small
matter
.
"
The
conductor
looked
into
the
carriage
.
"
The
American
lady
is
coming
back
.
"
