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This
must
be
Aleppo
.
Nothing
to
see
,
of
course
.
Just
a
long
,
poor-lighted
platform
with
loud
furious
altercations
in
Arabic
going
on
somewhere
.
Two
men
below
her
window
were
talking
French
.
One
was
a
French
officer
,
the
other
was
a
little
man
with
enormous
moustaches
.
She
smiled
faintly
.
She
had
never
seen
anyone
quite
so
heavily
muffled
up
.
It
must
be
very
cold
outside
.
That
was
why
they
heated
the
train
so
terribly
.
She
tried
to
force
the
window
down
lower
,
but
it
would
not
go
.
The
Wagon
Lit
conductor
had
come
up
to
the
two
men
.
The
train
was
about
to
depart
,
he
said
.
Monsieur
had
better
mount
.
The
little
man
removed
his
hat
.
What
an
egg-shaped
head
he
had
.
In
spite
of
her
preoccupations
Mary
Debenham
smiled
.
A
ridiculous-looking
little
man
.
The
sort
of
little
man
one
could
never
take
seriously
.
Lieutenant
Dubosc
was
saying
his
parting
speech
.
He
had
thought
it
out
beforehand
and
had
kept
it
till
the
last
minute
.
It
was
a
very
beautiful
,
polished
speech
.
Not
to
be
outdone
,
M.
Poirot
replied
in
kind
.
"
En
voiture
,
Monsieur
,
"
said
the
Wagon
Lit
conductor
.
With
an
air
of
infinite
reluctance
M.
Poirot
climbed
aboard
the
train
.
The
conductor
climbed
after
him
.
M.
Poirot
waved
his
hand
.
Lieutenant
Dubosc
came
to
the
salute
.
The
train
,
with
a
terrific
jerk
,
moved
slowly
forward
.
"
Enfin
!
"
murmured
M.
Hercule
Poirot
.
"
Brrrrr
,
"
said
Lieutenant
Dubosc
,
realizing
to
the
full
how
cold
he
was
...
.
II
