It was five o’clock on a winter’s morning in Syria. Alongside the platform at Aleppo stood the train grandly designated in railway guides as the Taurus Express. It consisted of a kitchen and dining car, a sleeping car and two local coaches.
叙利亚的冬季，清晨五点钟，阿勒颇[1]站台旁停着一辆在铁路指南上美其名曰托罗斯快车的火车，上面有一节厨房车、一节餐车、一节卧铺车厢和两节普通客车厢。【注：[1]叙利亚西北部城市。】
By the step leading up into the sleeping car stood a young French lieutenant, resplendent in uniform, conversing with a small lean man, muffled up to the ears, of whom nothing was visible but a pink-tipped nose and the two points of an upward curled moustache.
通向卧铺车厢的踏板旁边，站着一个年轻的法国中尉，穿着一身醒目的制服，正在跟一个矮个子男人说着什么。后者用围巾把脑袋裹得严严实实的，只露出一个红彤彤的鼻尖和两撇向上翘起的小胡子。
It was freezingly cold, and this job of seeing off a distinguished stranger was not one to be envied, but Lieutenant Dubosc performed his part manfully. Graceful phrases fell from his lips in polished French. Not that he knew what it was all about. There had been rumours, of course, as there always were in such cases. The General — his General’s — temper had grown worse and worse. And then there had come this Belgian stranger — all the way from England, it seemed. There had been a week — a week of curious tensity. And then certain things had happened. A very distinguished officer had committed suicide, another had resigned — anxious faces had suddenly lost their anxiety, certain military precautions were relaxed. And the General — Lieutenant Dubosc’s own particular General — had suddenly looked ten years younger.
天气寒冷，为一位高贵的陌生人送行这份工作可不怎么令人羡慕，但中尉迪博斯克还是勇敢地坚守在岗位上，用优雅的法语说着优美的词句。实际上，他并不明白这一切究竟是怎么回事。当然，在这种情况下总有一些谣言。将军——他的将军——的脾气越来越坏。然后来了一个陌生的比利时人，好像是大老远从英国过来的。过了一星期——无缘无故紧张的一星期——再后来发生了某些事，一位很有名的军官自杀了，另外一位突然宣布辞职，那些焦虑的脸上忽然没有了焦虑，一些军事防御措施也放松了，而将军，迪博斯克中尉的顶头上司，好像忽然年轻了十岁。
Dubosc had overheard part of a conversation between him and the stranger. “You have saved us, mon cher,” said the General emotionally, his great white moustache trembling as he spoke. “You have saved the honour of the French Army — you have averted much bloodshed! How can I thank you for acceding to my request? To have come so far –“
迪博斯克偶然听到了将军和陌生人的一部分谈话。“你救了我们，亲爱的，”将军充满感情地说，白色的大胡子激动得直哆嗦，“你挽救了法国军队的荣誉，避免了很多流血事件！你接受了我的请求，我该怎么感谢你才好啊！你这么远过来——”
To which the stranger (by name M. Hercule Poirot) had made a fitting reply including the phrase, “But indeed do I not remember that once you saved my life?” And then the General had made another fitting reply to that disclaiming any merit for that past service, and with more mention of France, of Belgium, of glory, of honour and of such kindred things they had embraced each other heartily and the conversation had ended.
这个陌生人（他的名字是赫尔克里·波洛）回答得很得体，其中有这么一句：“可你确实救过我的命，我怎么能忘记呢？”接着将军也很得体地做了回答，表示过去的那件事不值一提。又提到了法国、比利时、光荣与荣耀诸如此类的话题，彼此热情拥抱之后结束了谈话。
As to what it had all been about, Lieutenant Dubosc was still in the dark, but to him had been delegated the duty of seeing off M. Poirot by the Taurus Express, and he was carrying it out with all the zeal and ardour befitting a young officer with a promising career ahead of him.
至于两个人说的究竟是什么，迪博斯克中尉仍然是摸不着头脑，但是他被委以重任，护送波洛先生登上托罗斯快车，作为一位有着远大前程的青年军官，他怀着满腔热情执行这一任务。
“Today is Sunday,” said Lieutenant Dubosc. “Tomorrow, Monday evening, you will be in Stamboul.”
“今天是星期日，”迪博斯克中尉说，“明天，星期一晚上，您就到斯坦布尔[2]了。”【注：[2]斯坦布尔（Stambul），曾为土耳其城市名，旧时又称“斯坦堡”。现为伊斯坦布尔南部的老城区。】
It was not the first time he had made this observation. Conversations on the platform, before the departure of a train, are apt to be somewhat repetitive in character.
他不是头一次这么说了。火车发动之前，站台上的对话多少会有些重复。
“That is so,” agreed M. Poirot.
“是啊。”波洛先生表示赞同。
“And you intend to remain there a few days, I think?”
“我想，您打算在那儿待几天吧？”
“Mais oui. Stamboul, it is a city I have never visited. It would be a pity to pass through — comme ça.” He snapped his fingers descriptively. “Nothing presses — I shall remain there as a tourist for a few days.”
“没错。我从没去过斯坦布尔，错过了会很遗憾的——是的。”他说明似的打了个响指，“没有负担——我会在那儿游览几天。”
“La Sainte Sophie, it is very fine,” said Lieutenant Dubosc, who had never seen it.
“圣索菲，很漂亮。”迪博斯克中尉说，不过他可从来没见过。
A cold wind came whistling down the platform. Both men shivered. Lieutenant Dubosc managed to cast a surreptitious glance at his watch. Five minutes to five — only five minutes more!
一阵冷风呼啸着吹过站台，两人都打了个冷战。迪博斯克中尉偷偷地瞄了一眼手表。四点五十五分——只有五分钟了！
Fancying that the other man had noticed his surreptitious glance, he hastened once more into speech.
他唯恐对方注意到他偷看手表，赶紧继续说道：
“There are few people travelling this time of year,” he said, glancing up at the windows of the sleeping car above them.
“每年这个时候，旅行的人都很少。”他说着，看了看他们上方的卧铺车窗。
“That is so,” agreed M. Poirot.
“是这样。”波洛先生附和道。
“Let us hope you will not be snowed up in the Taurus!”
“但愿您别被大雪困在托罗斯！”
“That happens?”
“以前有过吗？”
“It has occurred, yes. Not this year, as yet.”
“有过，是的。今年还没有。”
“Let us hope, then,” said M. Poirot. “The weather reports from Europe, they are bad.”
“但愿吧，”波洛先生说，“欧洲来的天气预报，说不太好。”
“Very bad. In the Balkans there is much snow.”
“很糟糕，巴尔干的雪下得很大。”
“In Germany too, I have heard.”
“我听说德国也是。”
“Eh bien,” said Lieutenant Dubosc hastily as another pause seemed to be about to occur. “Tomorrow evening at seven-forty you will be in Constantinople.”
“好吧，”对话又要中断了，迪博斯克中尉赶紧说道，“明晚七点四十分，您就到君士坦丁堡了。”
“Yes,” said M. Poirot, and went on desperately, “La Sainte Sophie, I have heard it is very fine.”
“是的，”波洛先生说，拼命接着话茬儿，“圣索菲，我听说很漂亮。”
“Magnificent, I believe.”
“我相信肯定棒极了。”
Above their heads the blind of one of the sleeping car compartments was pushed aside and a young woman looked out.
他们头顶上一节卧铺车厢的窗帘被拉到一边，一个年轻的女人往外看了看。
Mary Debenham had had little sleep since she left Baghdad on the preceding Thursday. Neither in the train to Kirkuk, nor in the Rest House at Mosul, nor last night on the train had she slept properly. Now, weary of lying wakeful in the hot stuffiness of her overheated compartment, she got up and peered out.
自从上个星期四离开巴格达之后，玛丽·德贝纳姆就睡眠不足，不管是在去往基尔库克[3]的火车上，还是摩苏尔[4]的旅店中，甚至在昨晚的火车上，她都没睡好。这会儿，躺在闷热不通风的车厢里睡不着，实在让人厌烦，于是她起身向外张望。【注：[3]基尔库克（Kirkuk），伊拉克东北部城市。[4]摩苏尔（Mosul），伊拉克北部城市。】
This must be Aleppo. Nothing to see, of course. Just a long, poor-lighted platform with loud furious altercations in Arabic going on somewhere. Two men below her window were talking French. One was a French officer, the other was a little man with enormous moustaches. She smiled faintly. She had never seen anyone quite so heavily muffled up. It must be very cold outside. That was why they heated the train so terribly. She tried to force the window down lower, but it would not go.
这一定是阿勒颇。当然没什么好看的，只有一个长长的、光线暗淡的站台，以及不知从何处传来的喧闹而暴怒的阿拉伯语吵骂声。她窗户下面有两个男人正在用法语交谈，其中一位是个法国军官，另一位是个留着夸张小胡子的小个子。她微微笑了笑。她从未见过穿得如此严实的人。外面肯定非常冷，难怪他们把车厢弄得这么热。她想把车窗拉低一点，可是拉不动。
The Wagon Lit conductor had come up to the two men. The train was about to depart, he said. Monsieur had better mount. The little man removed his hat. What an egg-shaped head he had. In spite of her preoccupations Mary Debenham smiled. A ridiculous-looking little man. The sort of little man one could never take seriously.
卧铺车的列车员向两个男人走来，说火车就要开了，先生最好上车。小个子男人抬了抬帽子。他的脑袋简直就像一颗鸡蛋！尽管之前有些出神，玛丽·德贝纳姆还是笑了。一个滑稽可笑的小个子，无须把这种人当回事儿。
Lieutenant Dubosc was saying his parting speech. He had thought it out beforehand and had kept it till the last minute. It was a very beautiful, polished speech.
迪博斯克中尉说着道别的话，他早就想好了，直到最后一分钟终于派上了用场，说得很是漂亮优雅。
Not to be outdone, M. Poirot replied in kind.
波洛先生不甘落后，回答得同样优美…
“En voiture, Monsieur,” said the Wagon Lit conductor.
“请上车，先生。”卧铺列车员说道。
With an air of infinite reluctance M. Poirot climbed aboard the train. The conductor climbed after him. M. Poirot waved his hand. Lieutenant Dubosc came to the salute. The train, with a terrific jerk, moved slowly forward.
波洛先生装出一副万般不舍的样子上了火车。列车员跟在他身后也爬上了火车。波洛先生挥动着双手。迪博斯克中尉向他敬礼。火车猛地一动，缓缓向前开去。
“Enfin!” murmured M. Hercule Poirot.
“可算结束了！”波洛先生嘟囔着。
“Brrrrr,” said Lieutenant Dubosc, realizing to the full how cold he was…
“啊——”迪博斯克中尉颤抖着说，这才意识到自己冻坏了…
“Voilà, Monsieur.” The conductor displayed to Poirot with a dramatic gesture the beauty of his sleeping compartment and the neat arrangement of his luggage. “The little valise of Monsieur, I have placed it here.”
“好了，先生，”列车员动作夸张地向波洛展示他卧铺车厢的美观以及安置整齐的行李，“先生的小旅行袋，我放这儿了。”
His outstretched hand was suggestive. Hercule Poirot placed in it a folded note.
他带有暗示意味地伸出一只手。波洛往他手里放了一张折好的钞票。
“Merci, Monsieur.” The conductor became brisk and businesslike. “I have the tickets of Monsieur. I will also take the passport, please. Monsieur breaks his journey in Stamboul, I understand?”
“谢谢，先生。”列车员立刻生机勃勃起来，一副郑重其事的样子，“先生的车票在我这里，请您把护照也给我。先生是在斯坦布尔下车吧？”
M. Poirot assented. “There are not many people travelling, I imagine?” he said.
波洛先生点了点头。“我看旅行的人不太多呢。”
“No, Monsieur. I have only two other passengers — both English. A Colonel from India, and a young English lady from Baghdad. Monsieur requires anything?”
“没几个，先生。除了您，只有两位旅客——都是英国人。来自印度的上校和从巴格达来的年轻的英国小姐。先生您需要些什么吗？”
Monsieur demanded a small bottle of Perrier.
波洛先生要了一小瓶矿泉水。
Five o’clock in the morning is an awkward time to board a train. There was still two hours before dawn. Conscious of an inadequate night’s sleep, and of a delicate mission successfully accomplished, M. Poirot curled up in a corner and fell asleep.
清晨五点钟搭乘火车是个尴尬的时刻。还有两个小时才会天亮，考虑到晚上睡眠不足，并且刚刚成功地完成了一个棘手的任务，波洛先生蜷在角落里睡着了。
When he awoke it was half-past nine, and he sallied forth to the restaurant car in search of hot coffee.
醒来时已经是九点半，他冲进餐车，想喝杯热咖啡。
There was only one occupant at the moment, obviously the young English lady referred to by the conductor. She was tall, slim and dark — perhaps twenty-eight years of age. There was a kind of cool efficiency in the way she was eating her breakfast and in the way she called to the attendant to bring her more coffee, which bespoke a knowledge of the world and of travelling. She wore a dark-coloured travelling dress of some thin material eminently suitable for the heated atmosphere of the train.
此时那里只有一个旅客，很明显是列车员说的那位年轻的英国小姐。她身材修长苗条，黑色的头发，二十八岁上下。从她吃早饭以及让服务员添加咖啡的冷静样子来看，想必是个见多识广、经常旅行的人。她一身暗色的旅行装束，料子轻薄，很适合车上闷热的空气。
M. Hercule Poirot, having nothing better to do, amused himself by studying her without appearing to do so.
赫尔克里·波洛先生无事可做，为了打发时间，就装作若无其事地观察起她来。
She was, he judged, the kind of young woman who could take care of herself with perfect ease wherever she went. She had poise and efficiency. He rather liked the severe regularity of her features and the delicate pallor of her skin. He liked the burnished black head with its neat waves of hair, and her eyes, cool, impersonal and grey. But she was, he decided, just a little too efficient to be what he called “jolie femme.”
他判断，她是那种无论在哪儿都能照顾好自己的年轻女人，沉着能干。他尤其喜欢她那极为端正的五官和细致白皙的皮肤，也喜欢她那顺滑整洁的黑发，还有她那双冷淡的灰色眼睛。不过，她看起来太干练了，不是他心目中的“美女”。
Presently another person entered the restaurant car. This was a tall man of between forty and fifty, lean of figure, brown of skin, with hair slightly grizzled round the temples.
没过多久，另一个人走进了餐车。这是个四五十岁的高个子男人，身形偏瘦，棕色皮肤，两鬓略有些斑白。
“The colonel from India,” said Poirot to himself.
“印度来的上校。”波洛自言自语道。
The newcomer gave a little bow to the girl.
新来的人对女子微微鞠了一躬。
“Morning, Miss Debenham.”
“早上好，德贝纳姆小姐。”
“Good morning, Colonel Arbuthnot.”
“早上好，阿巴思诺特上校。”
The Colonel was standing with a hand on the chair opposite her.
上校站住了，一只手搭在她对面的椅子上。
“Any objection?” he asked.
“你介意吗？”他问。
“Of course not. Sit down.”
“当然不。请坐。”
“Well, you know, breakfast isn’t always a chatty meal.”
“呃，你知道，早饭可不是聊天的好时间。”
“I should hope not. But I don’t bite.”
“正合我意。不过我不会咬人的。”
The Colonel sat down.
上校坐了下来。
“Boy,” he called in peremptory fashion.
“服务员！”他专横地命令道。
He gave an order for eggs and coffee.
他点了鸡蛋和咖啡。
His eyes rested for a moment on Hercule Poirot, but they passed on indifferently. Poirot, reading the English mind correctly, knew that he had said to himself, “Only some damned foreigner.”
他的视线在赫尔克里·波洛身上短暂地停顿了片刻，又毫不在意地移开了。波洛明白这个英国人的想法，知道他准会这么自言自语：“只不过是个该死的外国佬。”
True to their nationality, the two English people were not chatty. They exchanged a few brief remarks, and presently the girl rose and went back to her compartment.
不愧是这个民族的，两个英国人并没有闲聊，只是简单地说了两句，女子就起身回自己的车厢了。
At lunch time the other two again shared a table and again they both completely ignored the third passenger. Their conversation was more animated than at breakfast. Colonel Arbuthnot talked of the Punjab, and occasionally asked the girl a few questions about Baghdad where it became clear that she had been in a post as governess. In the course of conversation they discovered some mutual friends which had the immediate effect of making them more friendly and less stiff. They discussed old Tommy Somebody and Jerry Someone Else. The Colonel inquired whether she was going straight through to England or whether she was stopping in Stamboul.
午饭时，那两个人又坐在了同一张桌子旁边，仍然无视第三个旅客。他们的谈话比早饭时活跃了一些。阿巴思诺特上校说到了旁遮普[5]，还间或询问了对方几个关于巴格达的问题。很明显，她在那儿当过家庭教师。谈话中他们发现了几个彼此共同的朋友，这立刻使二人友好起来，不再那么拘束了。他们提到了一个叫老汤米的人，还有一个老雷吉。上校问她是直接去英国还是在斯坦布尔下车。【注：[5]印巴交接的一个地区。】
“No, I’m going straight on.”
“我直接去英国。”
“Isn’t that rather a pity?”
“那岂不是很遗憾？”
“I came out this way two years ago and spent three days in Stamboul then.”
“两年前我也坐过这趟车，那时候在斯坦布尔度过了三天。”
“Oh, I see. Well, I may say I’m very glad you are going right through, because I am.”
“哦，我明白了，我得说很高兴你直接去英国，因为我也是。”
He made a kind of clumsy little bow, flushing a little as he did so.
他略显笨拙地欠了欠身，脸色有点发红。
“He is susceptible, our Colonel,” thought Hercule Poirot to himself with some amusement. “The train, it is as dangerous as a sea voyage!”
“我们的上校很容易动感情啊。”赫尔克里·波洛饶有兴致地想，“这趟火车跟在海上航行一样危险！”
Miss Debenham said evenly that that would be very nice. Her manner was slightly repressive.
德贝纳姆小姐淡然地说那很不错，她的态度有些克制。
The Colonel, Hercule Poirot noticed, accompanied her back to her compartment. Later they passed through the magnificent scenery of the Taurus. As they looked down towards the Cilician Gates, standing in the corridor side by side, a sigh came suddenly from the girl. Poirot was standing near them and heard her murmur:
波洛注意到上校陪她回了她的车厢。后来，他们穿行在托罗斯壮丽的景色之中，两人肩并肩地站在过道上，俯瞰奇里乞亚门[6]时，女子忽然叹了口气。波洛正站在他们旁边，听到她低声说道：【注：[6]奇里乞亚门，土耳其南部托罗斯山中的一个重要山口。】
“It’s so beautiful! I wish — I wish –“
“真美啊，我希望——我希望——”
“Yes?”
“什么？”
“I wish, I could enjoy it!”
“我希望自己能欣赏它！”
Arbuthnot did not answer. The square line of his jaw seemed a little sterner and grimmer.
阿巴思诺特没有应答。他下巴的那条方形线条似乎更加严峻、冷酷了。
“I wish to Heaven you were out of all this,” he said.
“希望上帝让你摆脱这一切。”他说道。
“Hush, please. Hush.”
“嘘，请别说了。”
“Oh! it’s all right.” He shot a slightly annoyed glance in Poirot’s direction. Then he went on: “But I don’t like the idea of your being a governess — at the beck and call of tyrannical mothers and their tiresome brats.”
“哦，好吧。”他有点气恼地向波洛这边扫了一眼，然后说道，“不过我不喜欢你当家庭教师这个想法——对那些专横的妈妈和她们讨厌的小鬼唯命是从。”
She laughed with just a hint of uncontrol in the sound.
她笑了，声音有些失控。
“Oh! you mustn’t think that. The downtrodden governess is quite an exploded myth. I can assure you that it’s the parents who are afraid of being bullied by me.”
“不，你不能这么想。家庭教师‘饱受压迫’，是个已经被推翻了的传说。那些父母还怕被我欺负呢。”
They said no more. Arbuthnot was, perhaps, ashamed of his outburst.
两人没再说话。也许阿巴思诺特对自己的感情爆发感到羞愧。
“Rather an odd little comedy that I watch here,” said Poirot to himself thoughtfully.
“我在这儿看到了一幕奇怪的小喜剧。”波洛沉思着自言自语道。
He was to remember that thought of his later.
他以后会记起这个想法的。
They arrived at Konya that night about half-past eleven. The two English travellers got out to stretch their legs, pacing up and down the snowy platform.
那晚大约十一点半的时候，他们抵达科尼亚[7]，那两个英国旅客下车伸展四肢，在布满积雪的站台上走来走去。【注：[7]科尼亚，土耳其城市。】
M. Poirot was content to watch the teeming activity of the station through a window pane. After about ten minutes, however, he decided that a breath of air would not perhaps be a bad thing, after all. He made careful preparations, wrapping himself in several coats and mufflers and encasing his neat boots in goloshes. Thus attired he descended gingerly to the platform and began to pace its length. He walked out beyond the engine.
波洛先生乐于透过玻璃窗观察车站上拥挤的情形。然而大约十分钟后，他觉得呼吸一下新鲜空气兴许不是件坏事，于是他仔细地准备了一番，用好几件大衣把自己裹严，围上围巾，又在整洁的靴子外面套上胶套鞋。穿戴完毕，他小心翼翼地走到站台上，一路向车头走去。
It was the voices which gave him the clue to the two indistinct figures standing in the shadow of a traffic van. Arbuthnot was speaking.
一阵声音让他认出了站在货车厢阴影中的两个模糊的人影。阿巴思诺特正在说着：
“Mary –“
“玛丽——”
The girl interrupted him.
女子打断了他。
“Not now. Not now. When it’s all over. When it’s behind us — then –“
“不是现在，不是现在。等一切都结束了，等事情过去了，再——”
Discreetly M. Poirot turned away. He wondered.
波洛先生小心地转身走开了，暗自纳闷…
He would hardly have recognized the cool, efficient voice of Miss Debenham…
他差点没听出来德贝纳姆小姐那冷淡而干练的声音…
“Curious,” he said to himself.
“奇怪。”他自言自语道。
The next day he wondered whether, perhaps, they had quarrelled. They spoke little to each other. The girl, he thought, looked anxious. There were dark circles under her eyes.
第二天，不知道他们是否发生过口角，两人没怎么说话。他感觉那位姑娘心事重重的，眼睛周围也有了青晕。
It was about half-past two in the afternoon when the train came to a halt. Heads were poked out of windows. A little knot of men were clustered by the side of the line looking and pointing at something under the dining car.
大约下午两点半时，火车忽然停了。大家都把脑袋探出窗外，几个人聚在轨道旁，看着餐车下方，还指指点点的。
Poirot leaned out and spoke to the Wagon Lit conductor who was hurrying past. The man answered and Poirot drew back his head and, turning, almost collided with Mary Debenham who was standing just behind him.
波洛也探出头，询问匆匆经过的列车员。那人回答完，波洛缩回脑袋，转过身，差点撞到站在他身后的玛丽·德贝纳姆小姐。
“What is the matter?” she asked rather breathlessly in French. “Why are we stopping?”
“怎么了？”她急促地用法语问道，“为什么停车了？”
“It is nothing, Mademoiselle. It is something that has caught fire under the dining car. Nothing serious. It is put out. They are now repairing the damage. There is no danger, I assure you.”
“没事，小姐，餐车下面有什么东西着火了，火势不严重，已经熄灭了，他们正在抢修。别担心，没有危险。”
She made a little abrupt gesture, as though she were waving the idea of danger aside as something completely unimportant.
她做了个不太淑女的手势，仿佛想把危险事故丢到一边，把那当作无关紧要的事。
“Yes, yes, I understand that. But the time!”
“是的，是的，我明白，可是，时间！”
“The time?”
“时间？”
“Yes, this will delay us.”
“没错，会延误的。”
“It is possible — yes,” agreed Poirot.
“有可能——没错。”波洛同意道。
“But we can’t afford delay! The train is due in at 6:55 and one has to cross the Bosphorus and catch the Simplon Orient Express the other side at nine o’clock. If there is an hour or two of delay we shall miss the connection.”
“可我们不能误点！火车应该在六点五十五分到达，可我还得穿过博斯普鲁斯海峡[8]，到对岸去坐九点钟的辛普朗东方快车，如果晚一两个小时，就赶不上那趟列车了。”【注：[8]欧洲与亚洲交界，北连黑海，南通马尔马拉海。】
“It is possible, yes,” he admitted.
“有可能——没错。”他承认道。
He looked at her curiously. The hand that held the window bar was not quite steady, her lips too were trembling.
他好奇地看着她。她握着窗口栏杆的那只手有些不稳，嘴唇也在哆嗦着。
“Does it matter to you very much, Mademoiselle?” he asked.
“这对你很重要吗，小姐？”他问。
“Yes. Yes, it does. I — I must catch that train.”
“嗯嗯，很重要。我——我必须赶上那趟车。”
She turned away from him and went down the corridor to join Colonel Arbuthnot.
她从他身边走开，去过道找阿巴思诺特上校了。
Her anxiety, however, was needless. Ten minutes later the train started again. It arrived at Haydapassar only five minutes late, having made up time on the journey.
然而她完全没有必要担忧。十分钟之后火车又开动了。到海德帕萨时只晚了五分钟，损失的时间在途中补了回来。
The Bosphorus was rough and M. Poirot did not enjoy the crossing. He was separated from his travelling companions on the boat, and did not see them again.
博斯普鲁斯海峡风高浪急，波洛先生很不舒服，他在船上和同行的旅伴分开了，没有再见到他们。
On arrival at the Galata Bridge he drove straight to the Tokatlian Hotel.
到达加拉塔大桥后，他径直坐车去了托卡林旅馆。
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