unlikelyV
Poirot stopped, then continued, ‘Could the deepest
wounds be the work of a woman?’
‘Perhaps — but only if she was very strong.’
Poirot put his hand under the pillow and pulled out the gun
that Ratchett had shown him the day before. ‘Why didn’t the
American defend himself? The bullets are all there, you see.’
They looked round the room. Ratchett’s clothes were hanging
tidily behind the door. On a small table was a bottle of water, an
empty glass, some burnt pieces of paper and a used match.
The doctor picked up the empty glass and smelled it. ‘This is
why Ratchett failed to defend himself. He was drugged.’
Poirot felt in Ratchett’s pockets and soon brought out a box
of matches. He compared the matches carefully with the one on
the table. ‘The match on the table is a different shape from these
- shorter and flatter. Perhaps it was the murderer’s.’
16
The detective continued to look round the room. Then, with
a cry, he bent down and picked up a handkerchief from the
floor. It was small and pretty.
‘The train manager was right!’ he said. ‘There is a woman in
this case. And she very conveniently leaves us a clue — exactly
as it happens in the books and films. And to make things even
easier for us, there is a letter H on it.’
Poirot made another dive to the floor, and this time stood up
with a pipe cleaner in his hand. ‘Another convenient clue,’ he
smiled. ‘And this time it suggests a man, not a woman.’
The doctor was now looking in the front pocket of Ratchett’s
pyjamas. ‘Ah!’ he said. ‘I didn’t notice this earlier.’
He showed Poirot a gold pocket watch. The case was badly
damaged, and the hands pointed to a quarter past one.
‘You see?’ cried Constantine. ‘This gives us the hour of the
The doctor was now looking in the front pocket of Ratchett’s pyjamas.
crime. It fits perfectly with the medical evidence, that he died
between midnight and 2 a.m.’
‘It is possible, yes,’ said the detective in a troubled voice.
He went back to the little table and examined the burnt bits
of paper. ‘I need a ladies’ hat box!’ he said softly.
*
Before Dr Constantine was able to ask why, Poirot was in the
corridor, calling for the conductor. The conductor soon came in
with a hat box borrowed from one of the lady passengers.
‘There are so many clues in this room,’ Poirot explained to
the doctor, who was looking very confused. ‘The watch, the
pipe cleaner, the handkerchief. But how can we be sure that
they are not false clues, left here to confuse us? I am only sure of
two Tlues — the match and the burnt paper. The murderer didn’t
want us to read the words on that paper. Let us see.’
From the hat box, Poirot took one of the pieces of shaped
wire netting over which a hat would normally sit. He flattened
it, then carefully^lacedjdie burnt pieces of paper on top and
covered them with another piece of wire netting. He lit a match
and held the wire over the flame. The doctor watched with
interest as, slowly, some words appeared - words of fire.
‘—member little Daisy Armstrong
.’
‘Ah!’ cried Poirot. ‘So Ratchett was not the dead man’s real
name. We now know his name, and why he left America.’
‘We do?’ asked the doctor.
‘Yes. We must go and tell M. Bouc.’
The two men found M. Bouc finishing lunch in his
compartment. ‘After lunch, we will empty the restaurant
carriage and use it for your interviews,’ M. Bouc said. ‘I have
ordered some food for you here.’
The doctor and the detective ate quickly. M. Bouc waited
until their coffee had been served, then asked, ‘Well?’
‘I know the real name of the murdered man,’ said Poirot. ‘He
was Cassetti. Do you remember the Armstrong case?’
18
‘Yes, I think I do,’ answered M. Bouc. ‘A terrible business
- although I cannot remember the details.’
‘Colonel Armstrong was an Englishman, married to the
daughter of America’s most famous actress, Linda Arden. They
were living in America when their three-year-old daughter was
kidnapped. After messages from the kidnappers, the parents
paid them more than two hundred thousand dollars for her
return. But instead, the child’s dead body was discovered. Mrs
Armstrong was carrying another baby at the time, and the shock
of her daughter’s murder made her give birth too soon. She
and the baby both died. The heartbroken husband then shot
himself.’
‘Yes, I remember now,’ M. Bouc said softly. ‘And there was
another death too, wasn’t there?’
‘A French or Swiss girl who worked for the Armstrongs. The
police believed that she had helped the kidnappers, although she
strongly denied this. She threw herself out of a window. Later,
it was proved that she was completely innocent.’
‘Terrible!’ said the doctor.
‘About six months after these events, the police caught Cassetti.
He was the leader of a team of gangsters who had kidnapped and
killed people in a similar way before. There was no doubt that
he was guilty of the Armstrong kidnap too. But Cassetti was
very rich, and he used his money to escape punishment for his
crimes. After the court case, he disappeared. And now we know
where he went. He changed his name to Ratchett and began
travelling abroad.’
‘What an animal!’ cried M. Bouc. ‘He got what he deserved.’
‘I agree,’ said M. Poirot. ‘But was the murderer another
gangster, or someone connected to Daisy Armstrong?’
‘Are there any members of the Armstrong family living?’
‘I don’t know,’ replied the detective. ‘I seem to remember
that Mrs Armstrong had a younger sister.’
19
There was a knock at the door. ‘The restaurant carriage is
ready for you, Monsieur,’ said the waiter to M. Bouc.
The three men walked down the corridor to begin the
interviews.
*
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