CHAPTERONE
TheJourneyBegins
The wonderful views of snow-topped mountains passed unnoticed as the
train sped away from Syria towards Istanbul. As the Belgian detective M.
Hercule Poirot drank his coffee, he watched the only other person in the
restaurantcarriage-atall,thinyounglady,perhapstwenty-eightyearsold.From
the way that she ate her breakfast, she seemed to be an experienced and
confidenttraveller.Headmiredherpaleface,tidydarkhairandcoolgreyeyes.
Agood-lookingwoman,hethought,butperhapsalittletoocoldandefficientto
bedescribedaspretty.
Soonatall,thinmanenteredtherestaurantcarriage.Hewasbetweenforty
and fifty, with greying hair and skin darkened by the sun. He spoke to the
woman.HisaccentwasEnglish.
'Morning,MissDebenham.'
'Goodmorning,ColonelArbuthnot,'shereplied.
'DoyoumindifIsitwithyou?'
'Ofcoursenot.Please,sit.'Shesmiledpolitely.
He sat down and ordered his breakfast. He looked quickly towards M.
Poirot-athisenormous,curledmoustacheandstrange,egg-shapedhead-then
lookedaway.'Justasillylookingforeigner,'hethoughttohimself.
TheBritishpairexchangedafewpolitewordsovertheirbreakfast,andat
lunchtimetheysattogetheragain.ThemanspokeofhislifeinthearmyinIndia,
andoccasionallyaskedthegirlquestionsaboutBaghdad,whereshehadbeena
governess.Whentheydiscoveredthattheyhadsomefriends in common, they
becamemorefriendly.
'AreyoustoppinginIstanbul?'themanasked.
'No,I'mgoingstraightthrough.Isawallthesightstwoyearsago,onmy
waytoBaghdad.'