-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Агата Кристи
-
- Убийство в Восточном экспрессе
-
- Стр. 26/327
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
Polite
protests
on
both
sides
.
"
It
is
for
one
night
only
,
"
explained
Poirot
.
"
At
Belgrade
--
"
"
Oh
,
I
see
.
You
're
getting
out
at
Belgrade
--
"
"
Not
exactly
.
You
see
--
"
There
was
a
sudden
jerk
Both
men
swung
round
to
the
window
,
looking
out
at
the
long
,
lighted
platform
as
it
slid
slowly
past
them
.
The
Orient
Express
had
started
on
its
three-days
'
journey
across
Europe
.
M.
Hercule
Poirot
was
a
little
late
in
entering
the
luncheon-car
on
the
following
day
.
He
had
risen
early
,
breakfasted
almost
alone
,
and
had
spent
the
morning
going
over
the
notes
of
the
case
that
was
recalling
him
to
London
.
He
had
seen
little
of
his
travelling
companion
.
M.
Bouc
,
who
was
already
seated
,
gesticulated
a
greeting
and
summoned
his
friend
to
the
empty
place
opposite
him
.
Poirot
sat
down
and
soon
found
himself
in
the
favoured
position
of
the
table
which
was
served
first
and
with
the
choicest
morsels
.
The
food
,
too
,
was
unusually
good
.
It
was
not
till
they
were
eating
a
delicate
cream
cheese
that
M.
Bouc
allowed
his
attention
to
wander
to
matters
other
than
nourishment
.
He
was
at
the
stage
of
a
meal
when
one
becomes
philosophic
.
