Hercule Poirot lay awake staring at the ceiling. Why was the station outside so silent? His throat felt dry. He had forgotten to ask for his usual bottle of mineral water. He looked at his watch again. Just after a quarter past one. He would ring for the conductor and ask him for some mineral water. His finger went out to the bell, but he paused as in the stillness he heard a ting. The man couldn’t answer every bell at once.
赫尔克里·波洛躺在床上盯着天花板。外面的车站怎么这么安静？他喉咙发干——忘记要一瓶矿泉水了。他又看了看手表。才一点十五分。他想按铃向列车员要一瓶矿泉水，手指刚要伸向电铃，但又停下了。在寂静中，他听见“叮”的一声。列车员不可能同时照顾到每个铃声。
He found it difficult to go to sleep again at once. For one thing, he missed the motion of the train. If it was a station outside it was curiously quiet. By contrast, the noises on the train seemed unusually loud. He could hear Ratchett moving about next door — a click as he pulled down the washbasin, the sound of the tap running, a splashing noise, then another click as the basin shut to again. Footsteps passed up the corridor outside, the shuffling footsteps of someone in bedroom slippers.
波洛觉得一时之间难以入睡。首先是没有了火车的晃动。如果外面是个车站，也实在太安静了。相比之下，火车里的声音倒是异常响亮。他能听见雷切特在隔壁的动静——走动声、按水龙头的咔嗒声、自来水流动的声音、水溅出来的声音，然后水龙头又咔嗒一声关上了。外面过道上的脚步声，有人趿着卧室的拖鞋走了过去。
Ting… ting… ting…
叮…叮…叮…
It sounded again and again. Where was the man? Somebody was getting impatient.
铃声响了又响。列车员在哪儿？有人不耐烦了。
The altercation — if it was one — went on for some time. It’s proportions were ninety per cent of Mrs. Hubbard’s to a soothing ten per cent of the conductor’s. Finally the matter seemed to be adjusted. Poirot heard distinctly: “Bonne nuit, Madame,” and a closing door.
这场口角——如果是的话——持续了一阵子，哈巴特太太和列车员的说话比例是九比一！最终，事情似乎是解决了。波洛清楚地听见“晚安，太太”，还有关门声。
Then came voices — the conductor’s, deferential, apologetic, and a woman’s — insistent and voluble.
然后传来了说话声——列车员的声音，恭敬而抱歉。还有一个女人的声音，一再坚持且喋喋不休。
The conductor arrived promptly. He looked hot and worried.
列车员立刻出现了。满头大汗又闷闷不乐。
Whoever it was was keeping their finger solidly on the push.
无论是谁，仍在固执地按着按钮。
He wiped his forehead. “Imagine to yourself the time I have had with her! She insists — but insists — that there is a man in her compartment! Figure to yourself, Monsieur. In a space of this size.” He swept a hand round. “Where would he conceal himself? I argue with her. I point out that it is impossible. She insists. She woke up and there was a man there. And how, I ask, did he get out and leave the door bolted behind him? But she will not listen to reason. As though, there were not enough to worry us already. This snow –“
他擦了擦额头。“您想想我跟她在一块的时候！她坚持说——死活坚持——她房间里有个男人！您想想，先生，这么小的地方，”他用手比画了一圈，“他能藏在哪儿？我跟她争辩了一下，我说这是不可能的。可她还是坚持说，她醒了发现有个男人在那儿。于是我问，那个男人怎么能出去后还能把门闩上。可她就是听不进去，好像还嫌我们不够麻烦似的，这大雪——”
Mrs. Hubbard.
哈巴特太太！
Suddenly with a rush, his footsteps echoing up the aisle, the man came. He knocked at a door not far from Poirot’s own.
突然，过道上响起了一阵急促的脚步声，列车员来了，敲了敲波洛房间不远处的门。
“De l’eau minerale, s’il vous plait.”
“请帮我拿瓶矿泉水吧。”
Poirot smiled to himself.
波洛暗自发笑。
He pressed his own finger on the bell.
他的手指按了按电铃。
Ting…
叮…
“Yes?”
“怎么了？”
“Bien, Monsieur.” Perhaps a twinkle in Poirot’s eye led him to unburden himself. “La Dame Americaine –“
“好的，先生。”大概是因为波洛冲他眨了眨眼睛，列车员诉起委屈来，“那个美国老太太——”
When he awoke the train was still at a standstill. He raised a blind and looked out. Heavy banks of snow surrounded the train.
醒来时火车仍然停滞不前。他拉开窗帘向外看，只见火车周围堆满了厚厚的积雪。
He sprang up, opened it and looked out. Nothing. But to his right some way down the corridor a woman wrapped in a scarlet kimono was retreating from him. At the other end, sitting on his little seat, the conductor was entering up figures on large sheets of paper. Everything was deathly quiet.
他跳起来打开门向外看，什么也没看到。可是在右边，离他有段距离的过道上，有个裹着一件猩红色和服式睡衣的女人走开了。在另一端，列车员坐在小椅子上，正在一大张纸上填写什么。周围都是死一般的寂静。
“Between Vincovi and Brod.”
“在温科夫齐[1]和布罗德[2]之间。”【注：[1]南斯拉夫城市。[2]俄罗斯城市。】
“But yes, Monsieur. Monsieur has not noticed? The train has stopped. We have run into a snowdrift. Heaven knows how long we shall be here. I remember once being snowed up for seven days.”
“是啊，先生，您没注意到吗？火车停了。我们困在雪堆里了，天知道我们还得在这儿待多久。我记得有一次我们待了七天。”
Poirot drank a glass of water and composed himself to sleep.
波洛喝了一杯水，好让自己安静地睡着。
“Bon soir, Monsieur.”
“晚安，先生。”
“Decidedly I suffer from the nerves,” said Poirot and retired to bed again. This time he slept till morning.
“我肯定是发神经了。”波洛说着又回到了床上。这次他一觉睡到了早上。
“Where are we?”
“我们这会儿在哪儿？”
“Là là,” said Poirot vexedly.
“唉，唉。”波洛苦恼地说。
He was just dropping off when something again woke him. This time it was as though something heavy had fallen with a thud against the door.
快要睡着的时候，他再次被惊醒了。这一次，好像是什么重的东西砰的一声撞在了他的门上。
“Snow?”
“大雪？”
The man withdrew and returned with the water.
列车员退了出去，回来时带来了矿泉水。
At a quarter to ten, neat, spruce, and dandified as ever, he made his way to the restaurant car, where a chorus of woe was going on.
九点四十五分，他和平时一样一身整洁而时髦的打扮，向餐车走去，里面一片唉声叹气。
He glanced at his watch and saw that it was past nine o’clock.
他看了一眼手表，已经九点多了。
Any barriers there might have been between the passengers had now quite broken down. All were united by a common misfortune. Mrs. Hubbard was loudest in her lamentations.
旅客们之前可能存在的任何隔阂已经完全打破了，所有人被一个共同的不幸联系在了一起。哈巴特太太正在高声吵闹着。
“My sister — her children wait me,” said the Swedish lady and wept. “I get no word to them. What they think? They will say bad things have happen to me.”
“我姐姐，还有她的孩子们都在等着我，”瑞典太太抽泣着说，“我也没办法通知他们，他们会怎么想啊？肯定会认为我出事了。”
“My daughter said it would be the easiest way in the world. Just sit in the train until I got to Parrus. And now we may be here for days and days,” she wailed. “And my boat sails the day after tomorrow. How am I going to catch it now? Why, I can’t even wire to cancel my passage. I feel too mad to talk about it.”
“我女儿还说这是世界上最简单的方式，坐上火车就直接到帕鲁斯了。现在我们可能要在这儿困上好几天，”她哀叹道，“而且我的船后天就要开了，我还能赶上吗？我甚至都不能打个电报去退票！我气得都不想再说这个了！”
The Italian said that he had urgent business himself in Milan. The large American said that that was “too bad, Ma’am,” and soothingly expressed a hope that the train might make up time.
那个意大利人说他在米兰还有要紧的事。大块头美国人说“真是太糟糕了，太太”，还安慰性地说火车还是有希望把时间补上的。
“Not at all. It is most natural. I am now in the compartment that he had formerly.”
“没关系，这很正常。我现在住在他之前的房间里。”
“Oh! I’m sorry.”
“哦，对不起。”
“No, no,” he said in English. “It is not I. You confound me with my friend M. Bouc.”
“不不，”他用英语说，“我不是。你把我和我的朋友布克先生弄混了。”
M. Bouc was not present in the restaurant car. Poirot looked about to notice who else was absent.
布克先生不在餐车里。波洛四处看看还有谁不在。
“How long shall we be here?” demanded Mary Debenham. “Doesn’t anybody know?”
“我们要在这儿待多久？”玛丽·德贝纳姆问，“没人知道吗？”
Her voice sounded impatient, but Poirot noted that there were no signs of that almost feverish anxiety which she had displayed during the check to the Taurus Express.
声音里有种不耐烦。但波洛注意到，托罗斯快车停车检查时她的那种近乎疯狂的焦虑已经消失不见了。
Princess Dragomiroff was missing and the Hungarian couple. Also Ratchett, his valet, and the German lady’s maid.
德拉戈米罗夫公主和那对匈牙利情侣都不在。还有雷切特和他的仆人，以及那个德国女仆也不在。
“Vous êtes un directeur de la ligne, je crois, Monsieur. Vous pouvez nous dire –“
“你是铁路公司的董事吧，先生？你能说一下——”
Smiling Poirot corrected him.
波洛微笑着纠正他。
“There isn’t anybody knows a thing on this train. And nobody’s trying to do anything. Just a pack of useless foreigners. Why, if this were at home, there’d be someone at least trying to do something.”
“这火车上没人了解情况，也没人想要做点事。只是一群没用的外国人。哼，要是在我们国家，至少有人会想办法做点什么的！”
Mrs. Hubbard was off again.
哈巴特太太又说了起来。
Arbuthnot turned to Poirot and spoke in careful British French.
阿巴思诺特转向波洛，小心谨慎地用带着英国口音的法语说：
“You are a strong character, Mademoiselle,” said Poirot gently. “You are, I think, the strongest character amongst us.”
“你很坚强，小姐，”波洛礼貌地说，“我觉得你比我们所有人都坚强。”
This Christian spirit, however, was far from being shared.
然而，这种基督教精神没有获得大家的认可。
She shrugged her shoulders slightly.
她微微耸了耸肩。
She was not even looking at him. Her gaze went past him, out of the window to where the snow lay in heavy masses.
她的回答更像是在自言自语，因为她甚至都没看他一眼。她的目光越过波洛，停在窗外厚重的积雪上。
“You are the only patient one, Mademoiselle,” said Poirot to Miss Debenham.
“你是最有耐心的一个了，小姐。”波洛对德贝纳姆小姐说。
“And that is –?”
“这个人是？”
“That’s all very well,” said MacQueen restlessly. “We may be here for days.”
“这的确很好，”麦奎因心情烦乱地说，“我们会在这儿待上好几天。”
“I am foolish,” she said. “I am baby to cry. All for the best, whatever happen.”
“我真傻，”她说，“这么不争气地哭鼻子。不管发生什么事，都会好起来的。”
“What can one do?”
“一个人能做什么？”
On being told it was Yugo-Slavia she said: “Oh! one of these Balkan things. What can you expect?”
得知这里是南斯拉夫后，她说：“哦，一个巴尔干国家，还能指望什么？”
“You are a philosopher, Mademoiselle.”
“你真像个哲学家，小姐。”
“That implies a detached attitude. I think my attitude is more selfish. I have learned to save myself useless emotion.”
“那意味着一种超然而置身事外的态度。我觉得我的态度更为自私。我已经学会如何不浪费感情了。”
“What is this country anyway?” demanded Mrs. Hubbard tearfully.
“这里究竟是哪个国家啊？”哈巴特太太眼泪汪汪地问。
“Oh, no. No, indeed. I know one far far stronger than I am.”
“哦，不，不，真的。我知道有个人比我坚强得多。”
The Swedish lady wiped her eyes.
瑞典太太擦了擦眼睛。
“Well — that old lady, for instance. You have probably noticed her. A very ugly old lady, but rather fascinating. She has only to lift a little finger and ask for something in a polite voice — and the whole train runs.”
“呃，比如那个老太太，可能你也注意到她了。一位十分丑陋的老太太，可很有吸引力。她只要举起个小手指头，客气地说一句话，全车人都得为她奔走。”
She seemed suddenly to come to herself, to realize that she was talking to a stranger and a foreigner with whom, until this morning, she had only exchanged half a dozen sentences.
她好像突然醒悟过来，意识到自己正在跟一个陌生人、一个外国人说话。可直到今天早上，她也就跟他说了几句话而已。
She laughed a polite but estranging laugh.
她礼貌而疏远地笑了。
“It runs also for my friend M. Bouc,” said Poirot. “But that is because he is a director of the line, not because he has a masterful character.”
“他们也会服从我的朋友布克先生，”波洛说，“但那是因为他是这条线路的董事，而不是性格坚强。”
The morning wore away. Several people, Poirot amongst them, remained in the dining car. The communal life was felt, at the moment, to pass the time better. He heard a good deal more about Mrs. Hubbard’s daughter and he heard the lifelong habits of Mr. Hubbard, deceased, from his rising in the morning and commencing breakfast with a cereal to his final rest at night in the bedsocks that Mrs. Hubbard herself had been in the habit of knitting for him.
一早上过去了，包括波洛在内的几个人仍然留在餐车里。此刻，集体生活能让人感觉时间好过些。他听到了更多有关哈巴特太太女儿的事，也听到了已经过世的哈巴特先生一辈子的习惯，从早上起床吃谷类早餐，一直到晚上穿着哈巴特太太亲自给他织的睡袜睡觉，等等。
Mary Debenham smiled.
玛丽·德贝纳姆笑了。
It was when he was listening to a confused account of the missionary aims of the Swedish lady that one of the Wagon Lit conductors came into the car and stood at his elbow.
波洛正在听那位瑞典太太混乱地讲述她的传教宗旨时，一位列车员走进餐车，来到他身旁。
“The compliments of M. Bouc, and he would be glad if you would be so kind as to come to him for a few minutes.”
“布克先生问您是否愿意劳驾去他那里坐一会儿。”
“Pardon, Monsieur.”
“打扰了，先生。”
He followed his guide down the corridor of his own carriage and along the corridor of the next one. The man tapped at a door, then stood aside to let Poirot enter.
波洛跟着向导穿过自己车厢的过道，来到下一节车厢的过道上。那人敲了敲门，然后站在一旁请波洛进去。
Poirot rose, uttered excuses to the Swedish lady and followed the man out of the dining car. It was not his own conductor, but a big fair man.
波洛站起来，向瑞典太太道了歉，然后跟列车员走出餐车。此人不是他所在车厢的列车员，而是个白皙的高个子。
The compartment was not M. Bouc’s own. It was a second-class one — chosen presumably because of its slightly larger size. It certainly gave the impression of being crowded.
这不是布克先生自己的那个房间，是个二等房——选这间也许是因为它面积更大一些。不过仍然给人以拥挤的感觉。
M. Bouc himself was sitting on the small seat in the opposite corner. In the corner next the window facing him was a small, dark man looking out at the snow. Standing up and quite preventing Poirot from advancing any farther was a big man in blue uniform (the chef de train) and his own Wagon Lit conductor.
布克先生坐在对面角落的一个小座位上。对面靠窗的角落里，是一个黑皮肤的小个子男人，正在望着窗外的雪。一个身材高大、穿蓝色制服的男人（列车长），还有波洛自己车厢的列车员，两人站在那儿，几乎堵住了波洛的去路。
“Yes?”
“什么事？”
The expression on M. Bouc’s face gave him, as he would have expressed it, furiously to think. It was clear that something out of the common had happened.
布克先生脸上的表情让波洛强烈地感觉到，肯定发生了不寻常的事。
“And now a passenger lies dead in his berth — stabbed.”
“现在又有一个旅客死在卧铺上了——被刺死了。”
“You may well ask that. First this snow — this stoppage. And now –“
“问得好！首先是这场雪——这次堵塞。现在又——”
Poirot looked at him. He was as white as chalk.
波洛看看他，对方面如死灰。
“You had better let that man sit down,” he said. “He may faint otherwise.”
“你还是让他坐下吧，”波洛说，“不然他要晕了。”
The little man in the window shifted along the seat, Poirot squeezed past the other two men and sat down facing his friend.
窗边的小个子男人在座位上移了移，波洛才得以从另外两个人中间挤过去，坐到他朋友对面。
M. Bouc spoke with a kind of calm desperation.
布克先生带着一种平静而绝望的语气说道。
“Yes, Monsieur,” the Wagon Lit man gulped.
“是的，先生。”列车员深吸了一口气说道。
“Ah, my good friend,” cried M. Bouc. “Come in. We have need of you.”
“啊，我的好朋友，”布克先生喊道，“进来吧，我们需要你。”
He paused — and a sort of strangled gasp came from the Wagon Lit conductor.
他顿住了。列车员发出了压抑的喘息声。
“And now what?”
“现在又怎么了？”
“A passenger? Which passenger?”
“一个旅客？哪一个？”
“An American. A man called — called –” he consulted some notes in front of him. “Ratchett — that is right — Ratchett?”
“一个美国人，姓——姓——”他翻查了一下面前的笔记，“雷切特。不错，是姓雷切特吧？”
The chef de train moved slightly and the Wagon Lit man sank down in the corner and buried his face in his hands.
列车长挪了挪身子，列车员一屁股跌坐在角落里，把脸埋进手中。
“What has occurred?” he asked.
“出什么事了？”他问。
“Certainly it is serious. To begin with, a murder — that by itself is a calamity of the first water. But not only that, the circumstances are unusual. Here we are, brought to a standstill. We may be here for hours — and not only hours — days! Another circumstance. Passing through most countries we have the police of that country on the train. But in Yugoslavia — no. You comprehend?”
“确实非常严重。首先，谋杀本身就是最严重的灾难。然而不仅这样，现在情况非同寻常。我们被困在这里，可能会待上几个小时…不是几小时，而是几天！还有一个情况，我们每经过一个国家，几乎都有该国的警察在车上，但是南斯拉夫——没有。你明白了吗？”
The little dark man bowed and Poirot returned it.
黑皮肤的小个子男人欠了欠身，波洛也回了礼。
“There is worse to come. Dr. Constantine — I forgot, I have not introduced you — Dr. Constantine, M. Poirot.”
“还有更糟的。康斯坦汀医生——我忘记介绍了。康斯坦汀医生。波洛先生。”
“He is known to have been alive at about twenty minutes to one, when he spoke to the conductor,” said M. Bouc.
“据说一点二十分的时候他还跟列车员说过话。”布克先生说。
“It is a position of great difficulty,” said Poirot.
“处境确实很艰难。”波洛说。
“Dr. Constantine is of the opinion that death occurred at about 1 a. m.”
“康斯坦汀医生认为死者的死亡时间是凌晨一点钟。”
“Brr!” said Poirot. “This is serious!”
“啊！”波洛说，“事情很严重！”
“It is difficult to say exactly in these matters,” said the doctor, “but I think I can say definitely that death occurred between midnight and two in the morning.”
“在这个问题上很难做精确的判断，”医生说道，“不过我想我能断定死亡时间是在半夜十二点到凌晨两点之间。”
“When was this M. Ratchett last seen alive?” asked Poirot.
“最后一次看见雷切特先生活着，是什么时间？”
Poirot turned toward the doctor, who continued: “The window of M. Ratchett’s compartment was found wide open, leading one to suppose that the murderer escaped that way. But in my opinion that open window is a blind. Anyone departing that way would have left distinct traces in the snow. There were none.”
波洛转向医生，医生继续说道：“雷切特房间的窗户是大敞着的，这不由得让人猜测凶手是从窗户逃走的。但我认为开窗是个假象，任何人跳窗逃走都会在雪地上留下明显的脚印。但是并没有。”
“The crime was discovered — when?” asked Poirot.
“谋杀是何时被发现的？”波洛问。
“Yes.”
“是的。”
“That is quite correct,” said Poirot. “I myself heard what passed. That is the last thing known?”
“没错，”波洛说，“我亲耳听见了。这是已知的最后一个消息吗？”
The man spoke somewhat jerkily. “The valet of this M. Ratchett, he tapped several times at the door this morning. There was no answer. Then, half an hour ago, the restaurant car attendant came. He wanted to know if Monsieur was taking déjeuner. It was eleven o’clock, you comprehend.
他结结巴巴地说：“这位雷切特先生的仆人今早敲了几次门都没有动静。后来，就在半小时之前，餐车服务员过来了，想问问先生是否需要吃午饭。这是十一点时的事。
“Michel!”
“米歇尔！”
The Wagon Lit conductor sat up. His face still looked pale and frightened.
列车员站了起来，仍旧是一脸的苍白和恐惧。
“Tell this gentleman exactly what occurred,” ordered M. Bouc.
“把事情原原本本地告诉这位先生。”布克先生命令道。
“I open the door for him with my key. But there is a chain, too, and that is fastened. There is no answer and it is very still in there, and cold — but cold. With the window open and snow drifting in. I thought the gentleman had had a fit, perhaps. I got the chef de train. We broke the chain and went in. He was — Ah! c’était terrible!”
“我用自己的钥匙给他开了门，可里面还有链条，打不开。没有人应门，里面静静的，很冷——冷极了。窗户是开着的，雪花飘了进来。我想先生也许生病了，便叫来了列车长。我们弄断锁链进屋一看，他——啊，太可怕了！”
The Greek doctor gave a sardonic laugh. “Does a man who commits suicide stab himself in ten — twelve — fifteen places?” he asked.
希腊医生讥笑道：“一个人会朝自己身上刺十刀、十二刀甚至十五刀自杀吗？”
“The door was locked and chained on the inside,” said Poirot thoughtfully. “It was not suicide — eh?”
“门是锁上的，里面也有锁链锁着，”波洛沉思着说，“不是自杀吧，嗯？”
Dr. Constantine screwed up his face thoughtfully.
康斯坦汀医生陷入了沉思，脸也皱成一团。
He buried his face in his hands again.
他又把脸埋进了双手之中。
“It is a woman,” said the chef de train, speaking for the first time. “Depend upon it, it was a woman. Only a woman would stab like that.”
“是个女人，”列车长说，这还是他第一次开口说话，“看样子肯定是个女人，只有女人才会那样刺。”
“She must have been a very strong woman,” he said. “It is not my desire to speak technically — that is only confusing — but I can assure you that one or two of the blows were delivered with such force as to drive them through hard belts of bone and muscle.”
“那得是个强壮的女人，”他说，“我不愿意说复杂的技术性问题，那只会更加混乱，但我可以肯定地说，有一两刀刺得很用力，把骨头和肌肉上坚硬的韧带都刺穿了。”
“It was not, clearly, a scientific crime,” said Poirot.
“很明显，作案手法很不科学。”波洛说。
Poirot’s eyes opened. “That is great ferocity,” he said.
波洛睁大了双眼。“太残忍了。”他说。
“It was most unscientific,” said Dr. Constantine. “The blows seem to have been delivered haphazard and at random. Some have glanced off, doing hardly any damage. It is as though somebody had shut their eyes and then in a frenzy struck blindly again and again.”
“还有更不科学的，”康斯坦汀医生接着说，“这么多刀都是随意乱刺的，有几刀只是划了一下，几乎没什么损伤。看起来就像是有人闭着眼睛，盲目而疯狂地乱刺一气。”
“‘Bumped off’– that is the American expression, is it not?” said M. Bouc. “Then it is not a woman. It is a ‘Gangster’ or a ‘gunman.'”
“‘干掉他’——这是美国人的表达方式，对吗？”布克先生问，“那就不是女人了，而是个‘歹徒’或‘持枪歹徒’。”
“C’est une femme,” said the chef de train again. “Women are like that. When they are enraged they have great strength.” He nodded so sagely that everyone suspected a personal experience of his own.
“是个女人，”列车长再次说道，“女人就是这样，生起气来很有力气。”他郑重地点点头，大家不由得怀疑他对此是否深有体会。
His tone expressed professional disapproval. “There is a large American on the train,” said M. Bouc, pursuing his idea –“a common-looking man with terrible clothes. He chews the gum which I believe is not done in good circles. You know whom I mean?”
“火车上有个美国大块头，”布克先生继续推行自己的理论，“一个外表普通、穿着糟糕的家伙，嚼着口香糖，我认为好人不会这么干。你知道我说的是谁吗？”
“Oui, Monsieur, the No. 16. But it cannot have been he. I should have seen him enter or leave the compartment.”
“是的，先生，十六号房，但不可能是他，不然我应该能看到他进出房间。”
“I have, perhaps, something to contribute to your store of knowledge,” said Poirot. ‘M. Ratchett spoke to me yesterday. He told me, as far as I was able to understand him, that he was in danger of his life.”
“我有件事可供大家参考，”波洛说，“雷切特先生昨天跟我说过话。根据我的理解，他说他处于危险之中。”
The chef de train looked pained at his theory having come to naught.
眼见自己的理论被推翻，列车长一脸痛苦。
The Wagon Lit conductor to whom he had appealed nodded.
听到他提问的列车员点点头。
“If so,” said Poirot, “it seems to have been done very amateurishly.”
“如果是这样，”波洛说，“手法似乎太业余了。”他很专业地反对道。
“Ah! mon cher.” M. Bouc’s voice became positively caressing. “I know your reputation. I know something of your methods. This is the ideal case for you. To look up the antecedents of all these people, to discover their bona fides — all that takes time and endless inconvenience. But have I not heard you say often that to solve a case a man has only to lie back in his chair and think? Do that. Interview the passengers on the train, view the body, examine what clues there are and then — well, I have faith in you! I am assured that it is no idle boast of yours. Lie back and think — use (as I have heard you say so often) the little grey cells of the mind — and you will know!”
“啊，我的朋友，”布克先生的声音更加积极亲切了，“我知道你的名气，也了解你的做事方式。对你来说，这是个理想的案子。查查所有这些人的背景，发现幕后的真相，所有这些都需要时间和无穷的麻烦。可我不是经常听你说，只需要躺在椅子上思考思考就能破案了吗？那就这么做吧。跟车上的旅客谈一谈，看看尸体，研究一下线索，然后…好啦，我相信你！相信你绝不会乱夸海口的。躺下来思考吧，就像我常听你说的那样，动动你那小小的灰色脑细胞——你就想出来了！”
“You might not. You might not. But we will go into that presently. The question is, what to do?” He looked at Poirot.
“也许你没看到，也许。我们稍后再深入探讨。问题是，现在我们该怎么办？”他看看波洛。
Poirot looked back at him.
波洛回看了他一眼。
“Come, my friend,” said M. Bouc. “You comprehend what I am about to ask of you. I know your powers. Take command of this investigation! No, no, do not refuse. See, to us it is serious — I speak for the Compagnie Internationale des Wagons Lits. By the time the Yugo-Slavian police arrive, how simple if we can present them with the solution! Otherwise delays, annoyances, a million and one inconveniences. Perhaps, who knows, serious annoyance to innocent persons. Instead — you solve the mystery! We say, ‘A murder has occurred — this is the criminal!'”
“好吧，我的朋友，”布克先生说，“你能理解我请你做的事情。我了解你的才干。你来指挥这次调查吧！不，不，别拒绝我。你看，对我们而言这非常严重——我是代表国际客车公司这么说的。等到南斯拉夫警察过来的时候，如果我们能够向他们提供解决方案，那问题就简单了！不然就会拖延时间，麻烦重重。无辜的人也会被牵连其中，谁知道呢！然而，如果你解开了这个谜题！我们就可以说：‘发生了一起凶杀案件，这就是罪犯！’”
“And suppose I do not solve it?”
“假如我解不开呢？”
“Your faith touches me, my friend,” said Poirot emotionally. “As you say, this cannot be a difficult case. I myself, last night — but we will not speak of that now. In truth, this problem intrigues me. I was reflecting, not half an hour ago, that many hours of boredom lay ahead whilst we are stuck here. And now — a problem lies ready to my hand.”
“你的信任打动了我，我的朋友，”波洛颇为激动地说，“就像你说的，这案子并不难。昨天晚上我自己…不过我们现在先不说这些。实际上，我对这个案子也很感兴趣。就在半小时之前，我还在想，现在我们被困在这儿，将要面对很长一段无聊的时间。而现在——我已经有事可做了。”
He leaned forward, looking affectionately at his friend.
他俯身向前，充满深情地看着侦探。
“Good — we are all at your service.”
“太好了——我们都听你的调配。”
“You accept then?” said M. Bouc eagerly.
“这么说，你是答应了？”布克先生热切地说。
“To begin with, I should like a plan of the Istanbul-Calais coach, with a note of the people who occupied the several compartments, and I should also like to see their passports and their tickets.”
“首先，我想要个斯坦布尔－加来车厢的平面图，上面标注着每个人所在的房间。我还要看看他们的护照和车票。”
“C’est entendu. You place the matter in my hands.”
“是的，你就把案子交给我吧。”
“Michel will get you those.”
“米歇尔会给你这些的。”
The Wagon Lit conductor left the compartment.
列车员离开了房间。
“What other passengers are there on the train?” asked Poirot.
“车上还有哪些旅客？”波洛问。
“In this coach Dr. Constantine and I are the only travellers. In the coach from Bucharest is an old gentleman with a lame leg. He is well known to the conductor. Beyond that are the ordinary carriages, but these do not concern us, since they were locked after dinner had been served last night. Forward of the Istanbul-Calais coach there is only the dining car.”
“在这节车厢，只有康斯坦汀医生和我。从布加勒斯特过来的车厢里，只有一位跛脚的老先生。他跟列车员很熟。除此之外就是普通车厢了，但跟我们关系不大，因为昨天晚饭之后它们就被锁上了。斯坦布尔－加来车厢前面，就只有餐车了。”
“Then it seems,” said Poirot slowly, “as though we must look for our murderer in the Istanbul-Calais coach.” He turned to the doctor. “That is what you were hinting, I think?”
“那么，看起来，”波洛缓缓地说，“我们好像得在斯坦布尔－加来车厢里寻找凶手了，”他转向医生，“我想，你是这个意思吧。”
M. Bouc said solemnly. “The murderer is with us — on the train now…”
布克先生板着脸说：“凶手就在我们身边——现在还在这列火车上…”
The Greek nodded.
希腊人点了点头。
“At half an hour after midnight we ran into the snowdrift. No one can have left the train since then.”
“晚上十二点半时，我们冲进了雪堆里。从那以后，没人能离开火车。”
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