M. Hercule Poirot was a little late in entering the luncheon-car on the following day. He had risen early, breakfasted almost alone, and had spent the morning going over the notes of the case that was recalling him to London. He had seen little of his travelling companion.
第二天，波洛稍晚了一些才去餐车吃午饭。他起得很早，一个人吃了早饭，整个上午都在阅读那些让他回伦敦办案的文件，没怎么见过他的旅伴。
It was not till they were eating a delicate cream cheese that M. Bouc allowed his attention to wander to matters other than nourishment. He was at the stage of a meal when one becomes philosophic.
直到他们开始享用美味的奶油干酪时，布克先生的注意力才从美味佳肴转移到其他事物上来。人在吃饭的时候感慨最多了。
M. Bouc, who was already seated, gesticulated a greeting and summoned his friend to the empty place opposite him. Poirot sat down and soon found himself in the favoured position of the table which was served first and with the choicest morsels. The food, too, was unusually good.
布克先生已经坐在了桌边，招呼波洛坐在对面的空位上。波洛坐了下来，马上发现自己正坐在最佳的位置上——头一个享受餐点，而且种类丰富，味道出奇的好。
“It is an idea, that,” said Poirot.
“是个不错的想法。”波洛说。
“Ah!” he sighed. “If I had but the pen of a Balzac! I would depict this scene.” He waved his hand.
“啊，”他叹口气，“如果我有巴尔扎克的文笔，就能好好描述一下这番景象了。”他挥挥手。
“Ah, you agree? It has not been done, I think? And yet — it lends itself to romance, my friend. All around us are people, of all classes, of all nationalities, of all ages. For three days these people, these strangers to one another, are brought together. They sleep and eat under one roof, they cannot get away from each other. At the end of three days they part, they go their several ways, never, perhaps, to see each other again.”
“啊？你也同意？我想还没人写过吧？不过——这适合传奇的氛围，我的朋友。我们周围的人，不同的阶层、不同的国籍、不同的年龄段，三天的旅程把这些互不相识的人聚集在一起，在同一个屋檐下吃住，谁也离不开谁，三天后，他们各奔东西，也许再也不会见面了。”
“Some more wine,” said M. Bouc, hastily pouring it out. “You are morbid, mon cher. It is, perhaps, the digestion.”
“再来点儿酒吧，”布克先生说着，急忙斟酒，“你太吓人了，我的朋友，也许是消化不良了。”
“And yet,” said Poirot, “suppose an accident –“
“除非，”波洛说，“发生什么事故…”
“Ah no, my friend –“
“啊，不，我的朋友…”
“It is true,” agreed Poirot, “that the food in Syria was not, perhaps, quite suited to my stomach.”
“确实，”波洛同意道，“叙利亚的食物也许不太适合我的胃。”
“From your point of view it would be regrettable, I agree. But nevertheless let us just for one moment suppose it. Then, perhaps, all these here are linked together — by death.”
“你觉得这很糟，我同意。我们只是暂且假设一下，那么，这儿的所有人没准就——被死亡——联系在一起了。”
At the table opposite them were three men. They were, he guessed, single travellers graded and placed there by the unerring judgment of the restaurant attendants. A big, swarthy Italian was picking his teeth with gusto. Opposite him a spare, neat Englishman had the expressionless disapproving face of the well-trained servant. Next to the Englishman was a big American in a loud suit — possibly a commercial traveller.
他们对面那一桌坐着三个男人，他猜他们三个是独自旅行的，经过餐车服务员的准确判断之后被安排在这里。一个高大而黝黑的意大利人正起劲儿地剔着牙，他对面是个瘦削而整洁的英国人，一看就知道是个受过良好训练的仆人，一脸不以为然的神情。英国人旁边是个大块头美国人，穿着俗气的西装——可能是个旅行推销员。
He sipped his wine. Then, leaning back, he ran his eye thoughtfully round the dining car. There were thirteen people seated there and, as M. Bouc had said, of all classes and nationalities. He began to study them.
他抿了口酒，然后向后一靠，环视着餐厅陷入沉思。这里坐了十三个人，正如布克先生所说，来自不同的阶层和国家。他开始研究起他们来。
The Italian removed his toothpick to gesticulate with it freely.
意大利人拔出牙签，随意地捏着。
“You’ve got to put it over big,” he was saying in a loud nasal voice.
“要做就做大！”他声音洪亮，鼻音浓重。
The Englishman looked out of the window and coughed.
英国人看着窗外咳嗽了几声。
Poirot’s eye passed on.
波洛转过视线。
“Sure,” he said. “That whatta I say alla de time.”
“当然，”他说，“只是时间问题。”
At a small table, sitting very upright, was one of the ugliest old ladies he had ever seen. It was an ugliness of distinction — it fascinated rather than repelled. She sat very upright. Round her neck was a collar of very large pearls which, improbable though it seemed, were real. Her hands were covered with rings. Her sable coat was pushed back on her shoulders. A very small expensive black toque was hideously unbecoming to the yellow, toad-like face beneath it.
在一张小桌子旁边，笔挺地坐着一位他见所未见的丑到极点的老太太。那是一种显而易见的丑陋，与其说令人厌恶，还不如说是令人不解。她腰板儿挺得很直，脖子上戴着一条硕大的珍珠项链，看着不像是真的。两只手戴满了戒指。貂皮大衣披在肩上，一顶小巧、珍贵的无檐丝绒帽和下面那张蜡黄的、癞蛤蟆似的脸极不相称。
She was speaking now to the restaurant attendant in a clear, courteous but completely autocratic tone.
她正在跟餐车服务员说话，声音清晰、礼貌，但透着一种专横。
“You will be sufficiently amiable to place in my compartment a bottle of mineral water and a large glass of orange juice. You will arrange that I shall have chicken cooked without sauces for dinner this evening — also some boiled fish.”
“劳驾，请在我的房间放一瓶矿泉水和一大杯橙汁，晚餐我要炖鸡肉，不加盐——再要一点白煮鱼。”
The attendant replied respectfully that it should be done.
服务员恭敬地回答会照做的。
She gave a slight gracious nod of the head and rose. Her glance caught Poirot’s and swept over him with the nonchalance of the uninterested aristocrat.
她礼貌性地微微一点头，站起身来，正好迎上了波洛的目光。她一副贵妇的气派，冷漠地扫了他一眼。
“That is Princess Dragomiroff,” said M. Bouc in a low tone. “She is a Russian. Her husband realized all this money before the Revolution and invested it abroad. She is extremely rich. A cosmopolitan.”
“那是德拉戈米罗夫公主，”布克先生小声说道，“是个俄国人。她丈夫在革命前变现了所有的钱，投资到海外，如今她非常富有，环游世界，四海为家。”
Poirot agreed.
波洛表示认同。
Poirot nodded. He had heard of Princess Dragomiroff.
波洛点点头，他听说过德拉戈米罗夫公主。
“She is a personality,” said M. Bouc. “Ugly as sin, but she makes herself felt. You agree?”
“是个名人，”布克先生说，“丑成那副样子还要引人注目，对吧？”
At another of the large tables Mary Debenham was sitting with two other women. One of them was a tall middle-aged woman in a plaid blouse and tweed skirt. She had a mass of faded yellow hair unbecomingly arranged in a large bun, wore glasses, and had a long, mild, amiable face rather like a sheep. She was listening to the third woman, a stout, pleasant-faced, elderly woman who was talking in a slow clear monotone which showed no signs of pausing for breath or coming to a stop.
在另外一张大桌子旁边，玛丽·德贝纳姆和另外两个女人坐在一起。其中一个是高个子的中年妇女，穿着方格子上衣和粗花呢裙子，一头浅黄色的头发像个大面包似的奇怪地盘在脑后。她戴着眼镜，一张和蔼可亲的长脸像山羊脸，正在听一个结实的、满脸笑容的老女人说话。后者的声音清晰缓慢而单调，完全没有停下来喘口气的意思。
Perhaps, Poirot thought, Mary Debenham had demurred. A governess learns to be careful. Appearances are important. A girl with her living to get has to be discreet.
波洛想，也许是玛丽·德贝纳姆不愿意。家庭教师是很小心的，外表举止很重要。一个靠此生活的女孩得格外谨慎。
The train plunged into a tunnel. The calm monotonous voice was drowned.
列车钻进隧道，乏味单调的声音淹没在其中。
“… And so my daughter said, ‘Why,’ she said ‘you just can’t apply Amurrican methods in this country. It’s just natural to the folks here to be indolent,’ she said. ‘They just haven’t got any hustle in them.’ But all the same you’d be surprised to know what our college there is doing. They’ve gotten a fine staff of teachers. I guess there’s nothing like education. We’ve got to apply our Western ideals and teach the East to recognize them. My daughter says –“
“…所以我女儿说，‘唉，’她说，‘美国的方法在这儿行不通。懒惰是这个民族的本性。’她说：‘他们没有一点精神头——’你要是知道我们那儿的大学的情形，肯定会很惊讶。他们有一批优秀的教师，没什么比教育还重要。我们应该教东方人认清我们西方的思想。我女儿说…”
At the next table, a small one, sat Colonel Arbuthnot — alone. His gaze was fixed upon the back of Mary Debenham’s head. They were not sitting together. Yet it could easily have been managed. Why?
旁边一张小桌旁坐着阿巴思诺特上校，独自一人。他紧紧地盯着玛丽·德贝纳姆的后脑勺儿。他们没有坐在一起。可其实座位并不难安排。为什么呢？
His glance shifted to the other side of the carriage. At the far end, against the wall, was a middle-aged woman dressed in black with a broad expressionless face. German or Scandinavian, he thought. Probably a German lady’s maid.
他的视线转向了车厢的另一边。尽头靠着墙壁，坐着一位身穿黑衣、面无表情的宽脸中年妇女。他猜也许是德国人或斯堪的纳维亚人。多半是那个德国女仆。
The woman opposite him was a mere girl — twenty at a guess. A tight-fitting little black coat and skirt, white satin blouse, small chic black toque perched at the fashionable outrageous angle. She had a beautiful foreign-looking face, dead white skin, large brown eyes, jet-black hair. She was smoking a cigarette in a long holder. Her manicured hands had deep red nails. She wore one large emerald set in platinum. There was coquetry in her glance and voice.
他对面的那位是个妙龄女郎——也就二十岁。她穿着黑色紧身的小外套和裙子，白缎衬衫，小巧时髦的黑帽子很别扭地戴在头上。她长着一张精致的外国人的脸，皮肤白皙，棕色的大眼睛，乌黑的头发，修剪精致、涂着深红色指甲油的手指夹着一根长烟嘴香烟，戴着一枚镶祖母绿的白金戒指。无论长相还是声音，都十分娇媚。
There were only two more lunchers — Poirot’s fellow traveller MacQueen and his employer Mr. Ratchett. The latter sat facing Poirot, and for the second time Poirot studied that unprepossessing face, noting the false benevolence of the brow and the small, cruel eyes.
还有两个人在吃午饭——波洛的旅伴麦奎因和他的主人雷切特先生。后者面朝波洛坐着，于是波洛再一次研究起那张讨人厌的脸来，那对眉毛和恶毒的小眼睛都流露出假仁假义。
“Elle est jolie — et chic,” murmured Poirot. “Husband and wife — eh?”
“很漂亮啊，”波洛嘀咕着，“是夫妻吗？”
M. Bouc nodded.
布克先生点点头。
“Hungarian Embassy, I believe,” he said. “A handsome couple.”
“我想是匈牙利大使馆的，”他说，“天造地设的一对。”
After her came a couple leaning forward and talking animatedly together. The man wore English clothes of loose tweed — but he was not English. Though only the back of his head was visible to Poirot, the shape of it and the set of the shoulders betrayed him. A big man, well made. He turned his head suddenly and Poirot saw his profile. A very handsome man of thirty odd with a big fair moustache.
波洛的目光越过她，看到一对身体前倾、谈笑风生的情侣。男人穿着宽松的花呢英式服装，但不是英国人。波洛只能看见他的后脑，但是脑袋的形状和肩膀的模样，透露出此人身形魁梧匀称。他突然转过头，波洛看到了他的侧面。一个三十多岁的男人，相貌英俊，蓄着一大撮漂亮的胡子。
“It is at your wild animal you look?” he asked.
“你在看你的野兽吧？”他问。
Poirot nodded.
波洛点点头。
Doubtless M. Bouc saw a change in his friend’s expression.
不用说，布克先生看出了老朋友的表情变化。
“My daughter said, ‘Take a book of food tickets and you’ll have no trouble — no trouble at all.’ Now, that isn’t so. Seems they have to have a ten per cent tip, and then there’s that bottle of mineral water — and a queer sort of water too. They hadn’t got any Evian or Vichy, which seems queer to me.”
“我女儿说：‘买本餐券就省得麻烦了——一了百了。’现在可不是这样了。得付一成的小费才给一瓶矿泉水——还有股子怪味道。而且他们连依云和薇姿都没有，真是奇怪。”
“I return to my compartment,” he said. “Come along presently and converse with me.”
“我回房间了，”他说，“等一会儿过来聊天吧。”
“With pleasure.”
“非常乐意。”
Poirot sipped his coffee and ordered a liqueur. The attendant was passing from table to table with his box of money, accepting payment for bills. The elderly American lady’s voice rose shrill and plaintive.
波洛啜着咖啡，还点了一杯甜酒。服务员捧着他的钱盒子各个桌子收费。这时，那位年长的美国太太尖利而哀怨地说了起来：
“It is — they must — how you say — serve the water of the country,” explained the sheep-faced lady.
“没错——他们只能——你怎么说的来着——提供本国的水。”山羊脸太太解释说。
As his coffee was brought to him, M. Bouc rose to his feet. Having started before Poirot, he had finished some time ago.
波洛的咖啡端上来时，布克先生站起身，他比波洛吃得早，结束得也早。
“Well, it seems queer to me.” She looked distastefully at the heap of small change on the table in front of her. “Look at all this peculiar stuff he’s given me. Dinars or something. Just a lot of rubbish, it looks. My daughter said –“
“哼，真是奇怪。”她十分不满地看着桌上那些找给她的零钱，“看看他给我的这些形状奇怪的玩意儿，第纳尔[1]还是什么，看着就像堆垃圾！我女儿说——”【注：[1]第纳尔，南斯拉夫、伊拉克、利比亚及阿尔及利亚等国的货币单位。】
“I think,” he went on, “that I have the pleasure of speaking to M. Hercule Poirot. Is that so?”
“我想，”他接着说，“我有幸跟赫赫有名的赫尔克里·波洛先生说话，对吗？”
Ratchett spoke to his companion, who got up and left the car. Then he rose himself, but instead of following MacQueen he dropped unexpectedly into the seat opposite Poirot.
雷切特跟他的同伴说了几句话，那人便站起来离开了餐厅。接着，他也站了起来，但没有和麦奎因一同出去，而是出人意料地坐在了波洛对面的椅子上。
Mary Debenham pushed back her chair and left with a slight bow to the other two. Colonel Arbuthnot got up and followed her. Gathering up her despised money, the American lady followed suit, followed by the lady like a sheep. The Hungarians had already departed. The restaurant car was empty save for Poirot and Ratchett and MacQueen.
玛丽·德贝纳姆向后推开椅子，站起身向另外两人微微点一点头，走了。阿巴思诺特上校也起身跟在后面出去了。那位美国太太收起了她十分厌恶的零钱，和山羊脸太太一前一后地走了。那对匈牙利恋人也离开了。除了波洛、雷切特和麦奎因，餐厅里别无他人了。
“Can you oblige me with a light?” he said. His voice was soft — faintly nasal. “My name is Ratchett.”
“能借个火吗？”他说，声音很柔和，还有点鼻音，“我姓雷切特。”
Poirot bowed slightly. He slipped his hand into his pocket and produced a matchbox which he handed to the other man, who took it but did not strike a light.
波洛微微欠了欠身，伸手进口袋掏出一盒火柴递了过去，可对方接过去后并未点燃。
Poirot bowed again. “You have been correctly informed, Monsieur.”
波洛又欠了欠身。“您所知正确，先生。”
The detective was conscious of those strange shrewd eyes summing him up before the other spoke again.
在那人再次开口讲话之前，侦探早已留意到对方那双古怪而精明的眼睛正在打量着他。
“Monsieur, in my experience when a man is in a position to have, as you say, enemies, then it does not usually resolve itself into one enemy only.”
“先生，以我的经验来看，如果一个人到了你说的那个地位，往往不止有一个敌人。”
“My life has been threatened, Mr. Poirot. Now, I’m a man who can take pretty good care of himself.” From the pocket of his coat his hand brought a small automatic into sight for a moment. He continued grimly. “I don’t think I’m the kind of man to be caught napping. But as I look at it I might as well make assurance doubly sure. I fancy you’re the man for my money, Mr. Poirot. And remember — big money.”
“我的生命受到了威胁，波洛先生。我是个很爱惜自己的人，”他从大衣口袋里掏出一把小型自动手枪，在波洛眼前晃了晃，冷冷地继续说道，“我认为自己还不至于遭人暗算，但我要保证自己的安全万无一失。我认为你值得我支付这笔钱，波洛先生。请记住，这可是——一大笔钱。”
“My clientèle, Monsieur, is limited nowadays. I undertake very few cases.”
“先生，如今我的顾客十分有限，我很少接案子了。”
Hercule Poirot was silent a minute or two, then he said: “What is it you wish me to do for you, M.– er — Ratchett?”
波洛沉默片刻，然后说道：“您想让我为您做什么，呃，雷切特先生？”
“Only one enemy?”
“只有一个敌人吗？”
“Safety?”
“安全？”
“Why, naturally, I understand that. But this, Mr. Poirot, means big money.” He repeated again in his soft, persuasive voice, “Big money.”
“啊，当然，我明白。不过波洛先生，这可是一大笔钱。”他用柔和而颇具说服力的声音重复说道，“一大笔。”
Hercule Poirot’s eyebrows went up a trifle.
赫尔克里·波洛扬了扬眉毛。
“Mr. Poirot, I am a rich man — a very rich man. Men in that position have enemies. I have an enemy.”
“波洛先生，我是个有钱人，非常有钱。高处不胜寒啊。我有个敌人。”
“Just what do you mean by that question?” asked Ratchett sharply.
“你这话是什么意思？”雷切特尖锐地问道。
Ratchett seemed relieved by Poirot’s answer. He said quickly: “Why, yes, I appreciate that point. Enemy or enemies — it doesn’t matter. What does matter is my safety.”
听到波洛的回答，雷切特松了口气，他赶紧说道：“啊，没错，我同意你这个观点，一个或多个敌人都没有关系，要紧的是我的安全问题。”
“In my country,” he said, “we come to the point quickly. Mr. Poirot, I want you to take on a job for me.”
“在我们国家，”他说，“人们说话一向开门见山。波洛先生，我希望你能接受我的一个委托。”
“It will not.”
“不能。”
“What’s wrong with my proposition?”
“我的提议有什么问题吗？”
Poirot shook his head.
波洛摇摇头。
“I also — M. Ratchett.”
“我也是，雷切特先生。”
“You’ve got a pretty good nerve,” said Ratchett. “Will twenty thousand dollars tempt you?”
“你可真有勇气，”雷切特说，“两万美元能打动你吗？”
The other looked at him shrewdly.
那人精明地看着他。
“If you’re holding out for more, you won’t get it. I know what a thing’s worth to me.”
“如果你还想多要，那可不成，我是个识货的人。”
“I regret, Monsieur,” he said at length. “I cannot oblige you.”
“很遗憾，先生，”他终于开口说道，“我不能答应你。”
“If you will forgive me for being personal — I do not like your face, M. Ratchett,” he said.
“容我说句不客气的话——我不喜欢你那张脸，雷切特先生。”
“Name your figure, then,” he said.
“你开个价钱吧。”他说。
Poirot rose.
波洛站起身。
And with that he left the restaurant car.
说完，波洛离开了餐车。
“You do not understand, Monsieur. I have been very fortunate in my profession. I have made enough money to satisfy both my needs and my caprices. I take now only such cases as — interest me.”
“你不明白，先生。我在事业上很走运，所赚的钱完全可以满足我的现实需要和各种任性的想法。我现在只接受——感兴趣的案子。”
Poirot looked at him thoughtfully for some minutes. His face was completely expressionless. The other could have had no clue as to what thoughts were passing in that mind.
波洛沉思着注视了他好一阵子，脸上看不出任何表情。对方也不知道他脑子里在想些什么。
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