Chapter 34 THE BLUE TRAIN AGAIN 

'The millionaire's train,' as it is sometimes called, swung round a curve of line at what seemed a dangerous speed. Van Aldin, Knighton and Poirot sat together in silence. 

Knighton and Van Aldin had two compartments connecting with each other, as Ruth Kettering and her maid had had on the fateful journey. Poirot's own compartment was further along the coach. 

The journey was a painful one for Van Aldin, recalling as it did the most agonizing memories. Poirot and Knighton conversed 

occasionally in low tones without disturbing him. 

When, however, the train had completed its slow journey round the ceinture and reached the Gare de Lyon, Poirot became suddenly galvanized into activity. Van Aldin realized that part of his object in travelling by the train had been to attempt to reconstruct the crime. Poirot himself acted every part. He was in turn the maid, hurriedly shut into her own compartment, Mrs Kettering, recognizing her husband with surprise and a trace of anxiety, and Derek Kettering discovering that his wife was travelling on the train. He tested various possibilities, such as the best way for a person to conceal himself in the second compartment. 

Then suddenly an idea seemed to strike him. He clutched at Van Aldin's arm. 

"Mon Dieu, but that is something I have not thought of! We must break our journey in Paris. Quick, quick, let us alight at once." 

Seizing suitcases he hurried from the train. Van Aldin and Knighton, bewildered but obedient, followed him. Van Aldin having once formed his opinion of Poirot's ability was slow to part from it. At the barrier they were held up. Their tickets were in charge of the conductor of the train, a fact which all three of them had forgotten. 

Poirot's explanations were rapid, fluent, and impassioned, but they produced no effect upon the stolid-faced official. 

"Let us get quit of this," said Van Aldin abruptly. "I gather you are in a hurry, Monsieur Poirot. For God's sake pay the fares from Calais and let us get right on with whatever you have got in your mind." 

But Poirot's flood of language had suddenly stopped dead, and he had the appearance of a man turned to stone. His arm still outflung in an impassioned gesture, remained there as though stricken with paralysis. 

"I have been an imbecile," he said simply. "Ma foi, I lose my head nowadays. Let us return and continue our journey quietly. With reasonable luck the train will not have gone." 

They were only just in time, the train moving off as Knighton, the last of the three, swung himself and his suitcase on board. 

The conductor remonstrated with them feelingly, and assisted them to carry their luggage back to their compartments. Van Aldin said nothing, but he was clearly disgusted at Poirot's 

extraordinary conduct. 

Alone with Knighton for a moment or two, he remarked: 

"This is a wild goose chase. The man has lost his grip on things. He has got brains up to a point, but any man who loses his head and scuttles round like a frightened rabbit is no earthly darned good." 

Poirot came to them in a moment or two, full of abject apologies and clearly so crestfallen that harsh words would have been superfluous. 

Van Aldin received his apologies gravely, but managed to restrain himself from making acid comments. 

They had dinner on the train, and afterwards, somewhat to the surprise of the other two, Poirot suggested that they should all three sit up in Van Aldin's compartment. 

The millionaire looked at him curiously. 

"Is there anything that you are keeping back from us, Monsieur Poirot?" 

"I?" Poirot opened his eyes in innocent surprise. "But what an idea." 

Van Aldin did not answer, but he was not satisfied. The conductor was told that he need not make up the beds. Any surprise he might have felt was obliterated by the largeness of the tip which Van Aldin handed to him. The three men sat in silence. Poirot fidgeted and seemed restless. Presently he turned to the secretary. 

"Major Knighton, is the door of your compartment bolted? The door into the corridor, I mean." 

"Yes; I bolted it myself just now." 

"Are you sure?" said Poirot. 

"I will go and make sure, if you like," said Knighton smiling. 

"No, no, do not derange yourself. I will see for myself." 

He passed through the connecting door and returned in a second 

or two, nodding his head. 

"Yes, yes, it is as you said. You must pardon an old man's fussy ways." 

He closed the connecting door and resumed his place in the right- hand corner. 

The hours passed. The three men dozed fitfully, waking with uncomfortable starts. 

Probably never before had three people booked berths on the most luxurious train available, then declined to avail themselves of the accommodation they had paid for. 

Every now and then Poirot glanced at his watch, and then nodded his head and composed himself to slumber once more. On one occasion he rose from his seat and opened the connecting door, peered sharply into the adjoining compartment, and then returned to his seat, shaking his head. 

"What is the matter?" whispered Knighton. "You are expecting something to happen, aren't you?" 

"I have the nerves," confessed Poirot. "I am like the cat upon the hot tiles. Every little noise it makes me jump." 

Knighton yawned. 

"Of all the darned uncomfortable journeys," he murmured. "I suppose you know what you are playing at, Monsieur Poirot." 

He composed himself to sleep as best he could. Both he and Van Aldin had succumbed to slumber, when Poirot, glancing for the fourteenth time at his watch, leant across and tapped the millionaire on the shoulder. 

"Eh? What is it?" 

"In five or ten minutes, Monsieur, we shall arrive at Lyons." 

"My God!" Van Aldin's face looked white and haggard in the dim light. "Then it must have been about this time that poor Ruth was killed." 

He sat staring straight in front of him. His lips twitched a little, his mind reverting back to the terrible tragedy that had saddened his life. 

There was the usual long screaming sigh of the brake, and the train slackened speed and drew into Lyons. Van Aldin let down the window and leant out. 

"If it wasn't Derek - if your new theory is correct, it is here that the man left the train?" he asked over his shoulder. 

Rather to his surprise Poirot shook his head. 

"No," he said thoughtfully, "no man left the train, but I think - yes, I think, a woman may have done so." 

Knighton gave a gasp. 

"A woman?" demanded Van Aldin sharply. 

"Yes, a woman," said Poirot, nodding his head. "You may not remember, Monsieur Van Aldin, but Miss Grey in her evidence mentioned that a youth in a cap and overcoat descended on to the platform ostensibly to stretch his legs. Me, I think that that youth was most probably a woman." 

"But who was she?" 

Van Aldin's face expressed incredulity, but Poirot replied seriously and categorically. 

"Her name - or the name under which she was known, for many years - is Kitty Kidd, but you, Monsieur Van Aldin, knew her by another name - that of Ada Mason." 

Knighton sprang to his feet. 

"What?" he cried. 

Poirot swung round to him. 

"Ah! - before I forget it." He whipped something from a pocket and held it out. 

"Permit me to offer you a cigarette - out of your own cigarette- case. It was careless of you to drop it when you boarded the train on the ceinture at Paris." 

Knighton stood staring at him as though stupefied. Then he made a movement, but Poirot flung up his hand in a warning gesture. 

"No, don't move," he said in a silky voice, "the door into the next compartment is open, and you are being covered from there this minute. I unbolted the door into the corridor when we left Paris, and our friends the police were told to take their places there. As I expect you know, the French police want you rather urgently, Major Knighton - or shall we say - Monsieur le Marquis?" 

第三十四章 再乘“蓝色特快”

    载着百万富翁的火车，象一只喘着粗气的大爬虫，向前奔驰。冯·阿尔丁、奈顿和波洛都坐在车厢里，各人想各人的心事。奈顿同冯·阿尔丁住在两个内部相通的包厢，正如露丝·凯特林及其女仆原来乘车时坐过的那样。波洛的包厢在车厢的另一头。

    旅行又勾起了冯·阿尔丁痛苦的回忆。波洛和奈顿有时交谈两句，不去打扰百万富翁。

    火车到了巴黎北站，然后缓慢地绕着巴黎行驶。当火车到达里昂站时，波洛突然兴奋起来。

    现在冯·阿尔丁意识到，波洛建议再乘这次车，以便把那次犯罪事件再重演一下。

这位侦探扮演着全部的角色。他一会儿在自己的包厢内扮演来回忙碌的女仆；一会儿又扮演露丝·凯特林，设想着她见到自己丈夫时那种惊慌失措的神情；一会儿又扮演德里克·凯特林，想象着当他知道妻子也乘同一次车的情景。他探索着每一种有另外一个人藏在别的包厢里的可能性。

    突然间，他的脑子里出现了一个新想法。他一把抓住冯·阿尔丁的手。

    “哦，我的天啊，我还没有想到，我们应该在巴黎中断旅行，快，快下车。”

    他抓起身旁的旅行袋，立即跳下了火车。另外两个人也以最快的速度跟着下了车。

有人在车站月台的栏杆旁挡住了他们，因为他们把车票忘在乘务员的手里了，可惜当时谁都没有想到这一点。波洛连忙向铁路上的官员们发出了一连串的声明和解释，但官员们无动于衷。

    “别折腾了！”冯·阿尔丁再也忍耐不住了。“我的上帝，干脆补一张从加来到巴黎的车票吧，别让这些鸡毛蒜皮的事打扰了您的计划！尽管直到现在为止我还弄不清楚您到底有什么计划。”

    可是，波洛口若悬河似的讲话突然停下来了，站在那里一动不动，好象一尊石雕像。

他那刚刚还比划着各种手势的胳膊，停在半空不动了。

    “我简直是一头驴。”他说。“上帝，我简直是晕了头。快点，先生们，我们还要继续我们的旅行。如果幸运的话，火车可能还没有开动。”

    他们立即上了车。当奈顿在他们三个当中最后一个摇摇晃晃地刚一上车，就发出了开车的信号，火车开动了。

    乘务员对这三位乘客的行动只好默默地摇头。看来他们已经习惯了这几位乘客的古怪行径。

    他们又坐在车厢里了。当冯·阿尔丁同奈顿在一起的时候，他说道：“简直是一次可笑的围猎！这个人简直是晕了头。有时候他显得很能干，可是他现在的表现活象是个受惊的家兔。”

    波洛回到自己的包厢后心境不佳，百万富翁的指责很不适当。看来，他正竭力克制住自己的一个想法。

    三位旅客在餐车上用完晚餐之后，波洛建议大家在冯·阿尔丁的包厢里坐着过夜。

    百万富翁迷惑不解地看着波洛。

    “您到底想干什么？您是不是在愚弄我们，波洛先生？”

    “我？”波洛天真无邪地说道。“决不会。”

    冯·阿尔丁不吱声了，但是他非常不满意。他们告诉乘务员，不要为他们铺床了。

为此在乘务员的手里塞了很可观的一笔小费。乘务员由此而得到的印象是：这是一批古怪的旅客。

    三个人又都坐在那里。波洛显得有些神经质，难以安静，最后他向秘书说道：

    “奈顿少校，您那包厢的门锁上了吗？我是说通向走廊的那扇门是不是锁上了？”

    “是的，我随手就关上了。”

    “保证关上了吗？”

    “如果您愿意，我可以再去看看。”

    “不，不，您不要去了。我自己去吧。”

    过一会儿，他点着头回来了。

    “对，您说得对。请原谅我的神经质。”

    他关上包厢之间的门又坐在那个角落里。

    几个小时过去了。三个人都坐在那里打着瞌睡。可能有史以来，欧洲的这列高级卧车上还从来没有人象这三位乘客这样地过夜。波洛不时地看着自己的手表，打着瞌睡，一会又挪动一下坐位，想舒服地合一下眼。有一次，他猛地站起，打开连接包厢的门，向隔壁的包厢里看了一眼，摇了摇头又坐下了。

    “您是干什么？”奈顿压低了嗓门说。“您是不是等着会发生什么事？”

    “我有点神经质！”波洛承认道。“我觉得好象坐在针毡上，一点小动静就会使我手足无措。”

    奈顿打了个呵欠。

    “真是一次该死的、讨厌的旅行，”他嘟哝着说。“当然，您本人可能已经体会到这次旅行的乐趣了，波洛先生。”

    说完，他又坐到自己的角落里，同冯·阿尔丁一样缩成一团，合眼打盹。当波洛第十四次看表的时候，轻轻地拍了一下百万富翁的肩膀。

    “干什么？”

    “过一两分钟我们就要到里昂了。”

    “我的天啊！”在暗淡的灯光下冯·阿尔丁的面色显得格外苍白。“差不多就是在这个时候，我那可怜的露丝被人杀害了。”

    他凝视着前方，咬着上嘴唇，以免呻吟出来。使他的生活黯然失色的这幕悲剧，又一次强有力地、突然地出现在他的面前。

    火车发出刹车的声音，速度也放慢了。已经到了里昂城站。冯·阿尔丁打开窗子。

    “按照您的假设来看，如果德里克不是凶手的话，那么那个陌生的男人是从这里下车的吗？”他问道。

    使他感到惊奇的是，波洛却摇了摇头。“不是，”他深思地说道，“下车的不是一个男人，而是一个女人。”

    奈顿惊醒了。

    “是个女的？”冯·阿尔丁大叫起来。

    “对，是个女的！您可能还记得，冯·阿尔丁先生，格蕾小姐曾提到过，说这时有一位先生戴着帽子，穿着大衣到月台上来回散步。我的看法是，这个人是个女的。”

    “那么她是谁呢？”

    冯·阿尔丁现出大谬不然的神色。可是，波洛却斩钉截铁地说道：

    “她的名字……或是，最好还是称她多年以来已经出了名字，吉蒂·基德。而您，冯·阿尔丁先生，知道她的另外一个名字，艾达·马松。”

    奈顿跳了起来，大叫一声：“什么？”

    波洛立即转过身来。

    “对，我还差一点忘了。”他从衣袋里飞快地掏出一件东西，并把它伸向奈顿面前。

    “请您从您自己的烟盒里抽一支烟吸。当您在巴黎的环城铁路跳上车的时候，您把烟盒丢了，这可是您的疏忽。”

    奈顿不知所措地看着他，猛然间他做了一个飞快的动作，就在这时波洛抓住了他的胳膊，高举在空中。“请您还是别这样。”他和善地说道，“通向隔壁包厢的门是开着的，我那些警察局的朋友们都藏在里面，每个人的枪口都对准您。当我们在巴黎下车的时候，我打开了隔壁包厢通往走廊的门，那时我的朋友们便走进了包厢。可能您还不知道，法国警察局找您找已经得够苦的了，奈顿少校，或者我们最好这样称呼您：‘侯爵先生’。”