“Business.”
“跑业务。”
“Do you always travel first-class, Mr. Hardman?”
“你总是坐头等车厢吗，哈德曼先生？”
“You are Cyrus Bethman Hardman, United States subject, forty-one years of age, travelling salesman for typewriting ribbons?”
“你是赛勒斯·贝特曼·哈德曼，美国人，四十一岁，打字机带的流动推销员？”
“You are travelling from Stamboul to Paris?”
“你是从斯坦布尔去巴黎吗？”
Poirot consulted the passport lying in front of him.
波洛查看了一下面前的护照。
“That’s all right by me. Guess that’s the only way to tackle the job.”
“我没有问题，处理这种事也只能这么做了。”
“We are of necessity interviewing all the passengers on the train.”
“我们有必要跟火车上的所有旅客都谈一谈。”
“Yes, sir. The firm pays my travelling expenses.” He winked.
“是的，先生，公司给我支付车费。”他眨眨眼。
“O. K., that’s me.”
“没错，就是我。”
“Sure.” He shifted the chewing gum deftly.
“当然。”他熟练地在嘴里翻了翻口香糖。
“That’s so.”
“是这样。”
He wore a somewhat loud check suit, a pink shirt, a flashy tiepin, and was rolling something round his tongue as he entered the dining car. He had a big, fleshy, coarse-featured face, with a good humoured expression.
他穿着一身俗艳的方格西装，粉红色衬衫，别着华丽俗气的别针，走进餐车的时候嘴巴还大嚼特嚼的，那张多肉、粗犷的大脸上，倒是一副和气的表情。
“Reason?”
“原因呢？”
“Morning, gentlemen,” he said. “What can I do for you?”
“早啊，先生们，”他说，“我能帮你们做什么？”
“You have heard of this murder, Mr.– er — Hardman?”
“你听说过这起谋杀了吧，呃——哈德曼先生。”
The last of the first-class passengers to be interviewed — Mr. Hardman — was the big flamboyant American who had shared a table with the Italian and the valet.
头等车厢中最后一位旅客是哈德曼先生，他是个身材高大、派头十足的美国人，跟意大利人和男仆同桌吃过饭。
“Now, Mr. Hardman, we come to the events of last night.”
“现在，哈德曼先生，我们谈谈昨晚的事吧。”
“Exactly nothing at all.”
“什么也没有。”
“Ah, that is a pity. Perhaps, Mr. Hardman, you will tell us exactly what you did last night, from dinner onwards?”
“啊，真遗憾。哈德曼先生，也许你能告诉我们昨天晚饭之后你的具体活动？”
“What can you tell us about the matter?”
“关于这件事，你能对我们说点什么吗？”
For the first time the American did not seem ready with his reply. At last he said: “Excuse me, gentlemen, but just who are you? Put me wise.”
起初，这个美国人好像还没做好回答问题的准备，最后他终于说道：“对不起，先生，可你们都是谁？好让我明白明白。”
“I’ve heard of you,” said Mr. Hardman. He reflected a minute or two longer. “Guess I’d better come clean.”
“我听说过你。”哈德曼先生说，他想了一会儿，说，“我想还是老实交代的好。”
“And you yourself?”
“你呢？”
The American nodded.
美国人点点头。
“It will certainly be advisable for you to tell us all you know,” said Poirot dryly.
“把你知道的全部告诉我们显然是明智的。”波洛一本正经地说。
“I am Hercule Poirot. I am engaged by the company to investigate this matter.”
“我是赫尔克里·波洛，受公司委托调查这起案子。”
“This is M. Bouc, a director of the Compagnie des Wagons Lits. This gentleman is the doctor who examined the body.”
“这位是布克先生，国际客车公司的董事；这位先生是验尸的医生。”
“Please explain, Mr. Hardman.”
“请解释一下，哈德曼先生。”
“You’d have said a mouthful if there was anything I did know. But I don’t. I know nothing at all — just as I said. But I ought to know something. That’s what makes me sore. I ought to.”
“你问我是否确实知道一些事，可我不知道。就像我说的，我什么也不知道。可我应该知道些什么。这让我很烦恼。我应该知道。”
Mr. Hardman sighed, removed the chewing gum, and dived into a pocket. At the same time his whole personality seemed to undergo a change. He became less of a stage character and more of a real person. The resonant nasal tones of his voice became modified.
哈德曼叹了口气，吐出口香糖，把手塞进口袋。这时，他似乎完全变成了另一个人，更加真实，而不是舞台上的演员了，那洪亮的鼻音也有所收敛。
Mr. CYRUS B. HARDMAN
赛勒斯·B。哈德曼先生
McNeil’s Detective Agency,
麦克尼尔侦探社
“Sure. Things came about this way. I’d come over to Europe trailing a couple of crooks — nothing to do with this business. The chase ended in Stamboul. I wired the Chief and got his instructions to return, and I would have been making my tracks back to little old New York when I got this.”
“没问题。事情是这样的。我到纽约来追踪两个坏蛋——跟这起案子无关。到了斯坦布尔就跟丢了。我给我的上司发电报，他指示说让我回去。要不是因为这个，我早就回纽约了。”
NEW YORK.
纽约
Dear Sir,– You have been pointed out to me as an operative of the McNeil Detective Agency. Kindly report to my suite at four o’clock this afternoon.
亲爱的先生：获悉您是麦克尼尔侦探社的侦探，请于今天下午四点来我的套间谈谈。
He pushed across a letter.
他递给波洛一封信。
Poirot scrutinized the card flipped across to him. M. Bouc peered over his shoulder.
波洛查看了他翻给他的名片，布克先生也凑过去偷看了一眼。
“Now, Mr. Hardman,” he said. “Let us hear the meaning of this.”
“那么，哈德曼先生，”他说，“让我们听听这是怎么一回事吧。”
The heading at the top was the Tokatlian Hotel.
信纸上印着托卡林旅馆。
“That passport’s a bit of bluff,” he said. “That’s who I really am.”
“那本护照做了点假，”他说，“这才是真正的我。”
Poirot knew the name. It was one of the best known and most reputable private detective agencies in New York.
波洛知道这家麦克尼尔侦探社，是纽约最有名、规模最大的私家侦探社之一。
“Eh bien?”
“后来呢？”
“I reported at the time stated and Mr. Ratchett put me wise to the situation. He showed me a couple of letters he’d got.”
“我准时去了他的房间，雷切特先生跟我说明了他的处境，还给我看了他收到的两封信。”
“Did he give you any indication of the line you were to take?”
“他有没有给你指示采取什么方法？”
It was signed ‘S. E. Ratchett.”
签名：S.E。雷切特
“He was alarmed?”
“他惊慌吗？”
“Sure. He had it all taped out. It was his idea that I should travel in the compartment alongside his — well, that was blown upon straight away. The only place I could get was berth No. 16, and I had a bit of a job getting that. I guess the conductor likes to keep that compartment up his sleeve. But that’s neither here nor there. When I looked all round the situation, it seemed to me that No. 16 was a pretty good strategic position. There was only the dining car in front of the Stamboul sleeping car, the door on to the platform at the front end was barred at night. The only way a thug could come was through the rear end door to the platform or along the train from the rear — in either case he’d have to pass right by my compartment.”
“当然。他全都安排好了。他出主意说我应该住在挨着他的房间里，可是一开始计划就告吹了。我只买到了十六号房，还费了不少力气。我猜列车员留着这一间是另有打算，不过这无关紧要。我观察了一下周围的形势，觉得这个十六号房具有非常好的战略位置。斯坦布尔卧铺车前面只有餐车了，而且前端通往站台的门在晚上又是闩着的，歹徒只能从车尾下站台的门进来，或者是从车尾沿着车厢进来，但不管哪种情况，他都得经过我的房间。”
“Pretended not to be, but he was rattled all right. He put up a proposition to me. I was to travel by the same train as he did to Parrus and see that nobody got him. Well, gentlemen, I did travel by the same train and, in spite of me, somebody did get him. I certainly feel sore about it. It doesn’t look any too good for me.”
“假装很镇静，但是整个晚上都很紧张。他提议，让我跟他坐同一列火车去帕鲁斯，保护他不受人伤害。所以，先生们，我就坐了这同一列火车，可他还是被人杀了。我觉得非常痛心，这对我来说糟糕极了。”
“Well, I knew what he looked like. Mr. Ratchett described him to me.”
“呃，我知道他长什么样，雷切特先生跟我描述过。”
“Ratchett was Cassetti, the Armstrong murderer.”
“雷切特就是卡塞蒂，杀阿姆斯特朗的凶手。”
“Which, mister?”
“谁，先生？”
“No, he was kinder reticent about that part of it. Just said the fellow was out for his blood and meant to get it.”
“没有，关于这件事他缄口不言，只是说那家伙想要他的命，而且势在必行。”
Mr. Hardman gave way to a prolonged whistle.
哈德曼先生拖长声音吹了声口哨。
“He certainly knew more than he told his secretary,” said Poirot thoughtfully. “Did he tell you anything about this enemy of his? Did he, for instance, say why his life was threatened?”
“他知道的事肯定比告诉秘书的多，”波洛若有所思地说，“他有没有跟你说起过他敌人的情况？比如，他为什么说自己的生命受到了威胁？”
“I don’t get you.”
“我不明白你的意思。”
“Ratchett. You recognized him?”
“雷切特，你认出他没？”
Hardman went on: “A small man, dark, with a womanish kind of voice — that’s what the old man said. Said, too, that he didn’t think it would be the first night out. More likely the second or third.”
哈德曼接着说：“一个小个子男人，深色皮肤，说话女里女气的。这就是老头儿告诉我的。他还说，他认为第一个晚上应该没事，第二或第三晚最有可能。”
“A small man — dark — with a womanish voice,” said Poirot thoughtfully. Then, fixing a sharp glance on Hardman, he said: “You knew who he really was, of course?”
“小个子，深色皮肤，说话女里女气的。”波洛沉思着地重复着，然后他尖锐地盯着哈德曼，问道，“你肯定知道他究竟是谁了？”
All three men leaned forward eagerly.
三个人全都急切地向前探过身子。
“He knew something,” said M. Bouc.
“他居然知道不少事情。”布克先生说。
“What?”
“什么样？”
“You had no idea, I suppose, of the identity of the possible assailant.”
“我想你可能不了解那个攻击者吧？”
“Do you know of anyone connected with the Armstrong case who answers to that description — small, dark, womanish voice?”
“你知不知道跟阿姆斯特朗案子相关的人之中，有谁符合下面的描述吗：小个子、深色皮肤，说话女里女气的？”
Hardman reflected a minute or two. “It’s hard to say. Pretty nearly everyone to do with that case is dead.”
哈德曼想了一会儿。“很难说。跟这案子有关的人几乎全都死了。”
“That certainly is some surprise!” he said. “Yes, sir! No, I didn’t recognize him. I was away out West when that case came on. I suppose I saw photos of him in the papers, but I wouldn’t recognize my own mother when a press photographer had done with her. Well, I don’t doubt that a few people had it in for Cassetti all right.”
“这真是个意外，”他说，“是啊，先生！不，我没认出他来。案发的时候我在西部，我想我在报纸上见过他的照片，可是只要登上报纸，就算我妈妈的照片我也认不出来。毫无疑问，有人要对卡塞蒂不利了。”
“Ah, but we have reason to believe that this crime is connected with the Armstrong case.”
“啊，不过我们有理由相信昨晚的案子跟阿姆斯特朗一案有关。”
“There was the girl who threw herself out of the window, remember.”
“有个女孩跳窗户自杀了，记得吗？”
“Sure. That’s a good point, that. She was a foreigner of some kind. Maybe she had some wop relations. But you’ve got to remember that there were other cases besides the Armstrong case. Cassetti had been running this kidnapping stunt some time. You can’t concentrate on that only.”
“当然。说得好。她是个外国人，说不定有意大利亲戚。不过，别忘了，除了阿姆斯特朗还有其他很多案子呢，卡塞蒂做绑架的勾当可是有一阵子了，你不能只考虑这一起。”
Mr. Hardman cocked an inquiring eye. Poirot did not respond. The American shook his head.
哈德曼疑惑地看了波洛一眼，但波洛没有反应。美国人摇了摇头。
“I can’t call to mind anybody answering that description in the Armstrong case,” he said slowly. “But of course I wasn’t in it and didn’t know much about it.”
“我不记得有什么人长得像阿姆斯特朗案里的人了。”他缓慢地说，“当然，我没有介入这个案子，知道的也不多。”
“Well, continue your narrative, M. Hardman.”
“好，请继续说吧，哈德曼先生。”
“You are sure of that, M. Hardman?”
“你确定吗，哈德曼先生？”
“Sure. He sits on that little seat almost flush with my door.”
“当然，他坐的那个小椅子都快挤到我门上了。”
“I’m plumb certain. Nobody got on that train from outside and nobody came along the train from the rear carriages. I’ll take my oath on that.”
“绝对没错。没人上过火车，也没有人从后面的车厢过来。我发誓。”
“There’s very little to tell. I got my sleep in the daytime and stayed awake on the watch at night. Nothing suspicious happened the first night. Last night was the same, as far as I was concerned. I had my door a little ajar and watched. No stranger passed.”
“也没多少可说的。我白天睡觉，晚上密切注意着。第一天晚上没有可疑情况；昨天晚上，除了我提到的，也没什么。我把我的房门打开一条缝朝外观察着，没有陌生人经过。”
“Did he leave that seat at all after the train stopped at Vincovci?”
“火车停在温科夫齐时他离开过座位吗？”
“That was the last station? Why, yes, he answered a couple of bells — that would be just after the train came to a halt for good. Then, after that, he went past me into the rear coach — was there about a quarter of an hour. There was a bell ringing like mad and he came back running. I stepped out into the corridor to see what it was all about — felt a mite nervous, you understand — but it was only the American dame. She was raising hell about something or other. I grinned. Then he went on to another compartment and came back and got a bottle of mineral water for someone. After that he settled down in his seat till he went up to the far end to make somebody’s bed up. I don’t think he stirred after that until about five o’clock this morning.”
“是说上一站吗？啊，是的，他应了两次铃——在火车停下来之后。然后，他从我门前走了过去，到后面的车厢去了——在那儿待了有一刻钟。后来铃声大作，他又跑了回来。我走到过道上看看发生了什么事——你知道，我觉得有点紧张——不过就是那位美国太太，不知为了什么事火冒三丈，真好笑。接着他去了另外一个房间，回来之后又给某个人送了瓶矿泉水。之后他就坐在座位上，直到另一头的房间让他去铺床。我觉得在今天早上五点之前他都没有走动过。”
“Could you see the conductor from your position?”
“在你那个位置能看见列车员吗？”
“Not me.” He helped himself, then strode briskly off.
“我不抽。”他自己拿了支烟，便轻快地大步离开了。
“There is no one, I suppose, who can confirm your story of your identity, M. Hardman?”
“我猜，没人能证实你的身份吧，哈德曼先生？”
“A small man, dark, with a high-pitched voice,” said M. Bouc thoughtfully.
“小个子，深色皮肤，说话声音很尖细。”布克先生沉思地说。
The other complied.
对方同意了。
“On this train? Well, not exactly. Unless it might be young MacQueen. I know him well enough — seen him in his father’s office in New York — but that’s not to say he’ll remember me from a crowd of other operatives. No, Mr. Poirot, you’ll have to wait and cable New York when the snow lets up. But it’s O. K. I’m not telling the tale. Well, so long, gentlemen. Pleased to have met you, Mr. Poirot.”
“在这火车上吗？哦，没有，除了麦奎因那个年轻人。我跟他比较熟，我在他父亲的办公室里见过他。这倒不是说他能从一大堆侦探里认出我来。没法子了，波洛先生，你还是等积雪清扫完之后发电报给纽约吧。不过没关系。那么，再见了，先生们。很高兴见到你，波洛先生。”
“That I can’t say. He may have done.”
“说不好，可能打盹儿了吧。”
Poirot nodded. Automatically his hands straightened the papers on the table. He picked up the official card once more.
波洛点点头，机械地伸手去拿桌子上的文件。他又拿起了那张名片。
“He has given us a piece of very interesting evidence,” said M. Bouc.
“他给我们提供了很有趣的证据。”布克先生说。
The three men looked at each other.
三个人面面相觑。
“A description which applies to no one on the train,” said Poirot.
“他的描述不适用于火车上的任何人。”波洛说。
“Yes, yes. I know the type. Besides, it is a story that would be very easily disproved.”
“是的，是的，我了解这一类人。而且，如果是编的假话，很容易就被揭穿了。”
“You think he is genuine?” asked Dr. Constantine.
“你觉得他说的是实话吗？”康斯坦汀医生问。
Poirot proffered his cigarette case. “But perhaps you prefer a pipe?”
波洛拿出烟盒。“也许你喜欢抽烟斗？”
“Be so good as just to initial this,” he said.
“麻烦你在上面签个字。”他说。
“Yes, indeed.”
“是的，确实。”
“Did he doze off at all?”
“他打过盹儿没？”
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