东方快车谋杀案英文版Murder_on_the_Orient_Express.doc

Part I - THE FACTS Chapter 1 AN IMPORTANT PASSENGER ON THE TAURUS EXPRESS It was five oclock on a winters morning in Syria. Alongside the platform at Aleppo stood the train grandly designated in railway guides as the Taurus Express. It consisted of a kitchen and dining-car, a sleeping-car and two local coaches. By the step leading up into the sleeping-car stood a young French lieutenant, resplendent in uniform, conversing with a small man muffled up to the ears of whom nothing was visible but a pink-tipped nose and the two points of an upward-curled moustache. It was freezingly cold, and this job of seeing off a distinguished stranger was not one to be envied, but Lieutenant Dubosc performed his part manfully. Graceful phrases fell from his lips in polished French. Not that he knew what it was all about. There had been rumours, of course, as there always were in such cases. The Generals - his Generals - temper had grown worse and worse. And then there had come this Belgian stranger - all the way from England, it seemed. There had been a week - a week of curious tensity. And then certain things had happened. A very distinguished officer had committed suicide, another had suddenly resigned, anxious faces had suddenly lost their anxiety, certain military precautions were relaxed. And the General, Lieutenant Duboscs own particular General, had suddenly looked ten years younger. Dubosc had overheard part of a conversation between him and the stranger. You have saved us, mon cher, said the General emotionally, his great white moustache trembling as he spoke. You have saved the honour of the French Army - you have averted much bloodshed! How can I thank you for acceding to my request? To have come so far - To which the stranger (by name M. Hercule Poirot) had made a fitting reply including the phrase - But indeed, do I not remember that once you saved my life? And then the General had made another fitting reply to that, disclaiming any merit for that past service; and