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He
turned
to
the
chef
de
train
.
"
Clear
all
the
people
out
of
the
restaurant
car
,
"
he
said
,
"
and
let
it
be
left
free
for
M.
Poirot
.
You
will
conduct
your
interviews
there
,
mon
cher
?
"
"
It
would
be
the
most
convenient
,
yes
,
"
agreed
Poirot
.
MacQueen
had
stood
looking
from
one
to
the
other
,
not
quite
following
the
rapid
flow
of
French
.
"
Qu'est
ce
qu'il
y
a
?
"
he
began
laboriously
.
"
Pourquoi
--
?
"
With
a
vigorous
gesture
Poirot
motioned
him
to
the
seat
in
the
corner
.
He
took
it
and
began
once
more
.
"
Pourquoi
--
?
"
then
,
checking
himself
and
relapsing
into
his
own
tongue
,
"
What
's
up
on
the
train
?
Has
anything
happened
?
"
He
looked
from
one
man
to
another
.
Poirot
nodded
.
"
Exactly
.
Something
has
happened
.
Prepare
yourself
for
a
shock
.
Your
employer
,
M.
Ratchett
,
is
dead
!
"
