[Mummy] Yellow sand fills the sky

The handsome man smiled helplessly, "That's it, once Kaiya has made up her mind, no one can shake it. I'll also book a ticket on the Orient Express back to London, Yasmine, you should stay here by yourself Just a moment, it's just a matter between us." They just stood there.

The other two Americans were just about to leave the hotel when Poirot and his friend met again in the lounge.Their luggage is being brought down.The young man is overseeing the process.After a while, he opened the glass door and said, "All ready, Mr. Ratchett."

The older man grunted, agreed, and went out.

"Well," said Poirot, "what do you think of these two?"

"They are Americans," said Mr. Bowker.

"Americans, no doubt. I mean, what do you think of their personalities?"

"The young man seemed very agreeable."

"What about the other one?"

"To tell you the truth, my friend, I did not pay attention to him. He made an unpleasant impression on me. And you." Poirot paused before answering. "As he passed me into the dining room," he said at last, "I had a strange impression. He passed me as if he were a beast—you know, a beastly cruel man, a cruel man. people!"

"However, he looks quite the most respectable man," said M. Bouc quickly. "I am curious, however, about the gentleman with that beautiful lady. There is something about him, a kind of With the temperament of being in a good environment for a long time, I dare to bet you that he is at least a nobleman."

Poirot laughed loudly, "I'm not sure about this, but I agree with you. Both the lady and the gentleman are truly educated people. I think you must very much hope to get to know them."

Bowker was about to answer, when the door opened and the porter came towards them.He looked worried, as if sorry. "It is very strange, monsieur," he said to Poirot, "that all the first-class berths in the train have been sold."

"What!" exclaimed M. Bowker, "at such an hour? Why, there must be some traveling party—or some political party—without a doubt?"

"I don't know, sir," said the porter, turning to him respectfully, "but that's the way it is."

"Come, come," said Poirot, M. Bouc. "Don't worry, my friend. We can make arrangements. There is usually a sleeping berth on board, No. 16, which is not reserved. It is in the hands of the conductor." Yes!" He smiled and glanced at the clock.

"Well," he said, "it's time to go."

At the railway station, M. Bouc was greeted respectfully and enthusiastically by a driver in a brown uniform. "Good night, sir. Your room is number one."

He called the waiter.The waiter took their luggage halfway and pushed the car along the carriage. The iron plate on the carriage marked the destination of the car: Istanbul──Trieste Port──Calais

"I heard that your train is full tonight?"

"It's incredible, sir. The whole world has decided to take this train tonight!"

"Nevertheless, you must find a room for this gentleman. He is my friend. He can live in No. 16."

"No. 16 is sold, sir."

"What, NO.16."

They looked at each other knowingly, and the conductor smiled too.He was a tall, sallow, middle-aged man. "Yes, sir, as I told you, our train is packed everywhere—full."

M. Bouc's tongue made an annoyed click. "To Belgrade," he said, "there will be a slippery car from Athens, and a Bucharest-Paris car--but we won't get to Belgrade until tomorrow evening. The problem is tonight. There are no free two cars." Are you waiting for a sleeper?"

"There is one more second-class sleeper, sir—"

"Okay, then—"

"But there is already a German lady in the room for the lady's berth—a maid."

"Well, well, that's inconvenient," said M. Bowker.

"Don't worry about it, my friend," said Poirot, "I'll just take the ordinary carriage." Fortunately, Mr. Harris from England, the last second-class shop No. 7, has not come yet, and his seat is finally available. Arrange for Poirot.

At this time, a lady came over angrily, it was the lady they saw in the hotel earlier.Seeing them, she tried to restrain her anger and said: "Mr. Bouc, I heard that you are the director of the International Bus Company, so I came to trouble you, otherwise, I would never come here. You also know , want a lady to come..."

Mr. Bowker immediately said: "Of course, if you have anything to say, please tell me, and I will try my best to solve it for you."

She kept her elegant voice: "I booked the Orient Express ticket very early last week, and it was first class. At that time, the staff of your company told me very clearly that this The seat was unoccupied, and they sold the ticket to me. But now, I am standing here, and they actually said that this seat has already been occupied, and he reserved this seat quite early. I think you have to give I have a reasonable explanation."

Mr. Bowker felt that his face was very dull. He glanced at the conductor with some dissatisfaction, turned to explain to her: "I'm really sorry, miss, our first-class carriages are completely gone, and the second-class carriages are completely gone. There is one more berth. However, in the female berth, there is already a German lady in the room—a maid."

He looked at the lady very embarrassed, "I'm really sorry, this is the best solution I can think of now. Otherwise, you can take the next car, and I can take all your husband's entourage A first-class ticket is given away for free. This..."

She glanced back, and her husband had been standing not far from her.She quickly made a decision: "Mrs. Montsolefort. No need, that's fine. I think the maid will basically stay with the master she serves, so I have nothing to worry about." Yes. Are you sure that my seat is the only vacant seat in the first and second class carriages?"

Although he didn't quite understand why the lady asked this question, Mr. Bouc replied: "Yes, this is the only one, and there is no more."

She leaned slightly towards them, and quickly got into the carriage, with the waiter behind her carrying the luggage for her.Mr. Bowker was still very strange, "It doesn't matter if such a young and rich lady stays here for a few more days, and, generally, shouldn't everyone hate sharing a room with a maid?"

Poirot smiled slightly and stroked his mustache, "There are always exceptions, especially when the lady has a dispute with her husband."

At this time, the gentleman and the people behind him ran over quickly, and when they saw them, they hurriedly asked: "Which compartment is the lady who went up just now?"

Mr. Bouc had a knowing smile on his face, "Don't worry, the lady who shared the room with Monsieur de Montsolefort is a lady of good character. Your wife will have three days here comfortably. I It's Bowker, the director of International Bus, and I will definitely pay more attention to the problems on the train."

He looked at him for a while, and said in a sincere tone: "That would be a great trouble to you, Monsieur Bouc, she and I have just had a little dispute over some points, and her character is another one." Stubborn, I've always felt that I needed to be by her side all the time."

Poirot stroked his mustache and said, "Perhaps this is where your differences lie. In my opinion, this lady is much stronger and more courageous than you imagined."

He smiled, "But this is different. I think you must understand, sir. From the conversation just now, I clearly know that the first-class and second-class tickets are completely gone. Now, what I want to ask is, can you Give us an ordinary box, alone. Of course, I won’t make it difficult for you in terms of fare. I don’t think the ordinary box is full.”

Bowker immediately called the conductor, and he said respectfully: "Yes, of course, there are still a lot of seats left in the ordinary carriages, and it is absolutely no problem to arrange a private compartment, and I guarantee that no one will disturb you. This gentleman, please follow me."

Poirot walked along the passage, but more slowly because most of the travelers were standing outside their rooms.His polite "I'm sorry" and "I'm sorry" were sent out regularly like a clock, and he walked to the designated room with great difficulty.In the private room, reaching for the suitcase was the tall young American from the Tokelin Hotel.

Seeing Poirot go in, he frowned.But at that moment, the conductor's voice came from behind Poirot's shoulder.An apologetic, rather breathy voice. "There's no other berth in the car, sir. The gentleman has to live here."

He was a pleasant fellow, and the bunks were politely moved on both sides. "Only one night anyway," explained Poirot, "to Belgrade—" "Oh, I see. You get off at Belgrade—" "Not exactly. You know—" The car jerked one time.Both of them shook for a while, hurriedly pulled the window, looked out, and saw the brightly lit platform slowly slipping past them.The Orient Express began its three-day journey across Europe.