Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 610 The First Domino Falls (Bonus Chapter 1)

The three Poirots remained in the salon carriage. They sat around a small table and engaged in a lively discussion.

"Multiple perpetrators are the only reasonable explanation. Otherwise, the contradictions in the wounds and the locked-room mystery cannot be explained."

"But how do we coordinate? How do we commit murder together at the same time and place without being detected?"

“It wasn’t at the same time. Someone drugged Le Chat first, then the others went in and did it. That way, each person only needed a short time and it wasn’t easy to be discovered.”

"And what about the woman in the red pajamas? She appeared at five in the morning—a few hours after the incident. What was she doing? Cleaning up the scene? Hiding evidence?"

"There's also a fake train conductor. He appeared at 12:30, and might have been back in Mrs. Hubbard's room at 1:15. Is he one of the accomplices?"

The questions are piling up, but the answers seem to be getting further and further away.

It wasn't until 7 p.m. that the passengers finally began to arrive at the dining car.

The atmosphere at dinner was completely different from that at lunch.

At lunchtime, everyone sat together, enthusiastically discussing the game, exchanging theories, and guessing who the murderer was.

But now, everyone is preoccupied with their own worries.

Mrs. Rothschild did not sit with her husband James, but instead chose a small table and sat down alone.

When the waiter came over, she only ordered a simple soup and fish, and ate absentmindedly, her eyes glancing at other tables from time to time.

James Rothschild sat with two other "Poirots." They were still discussing the case, notebooks spread out on the table, scribbling and drawing as they ate.

Georges Boiser sat in a corner, his back to most of the people, eating quickly as if he wanted to finish dinner as soon as possible.

Charles de Frésiné and Georges Nagelmarques sat together.

The conversation between the former prime minister and the railway company owner, which should have revolved around politics and business, was now also hushed about the game.

The other passengers were also seated, rarely exchanging words, and the dining car was unusually quiet.

Lionel and Sophie remained seated by the window, and Sophie said softly, "The results of the second phase have exceeded expectations."

Lionel nodded: "Because the new cards gave them real 'secrets.' When a person knows that the role they are playing has a dual identity, their whole attitude changes, and they start thinking about how to hide, how to mislead, and how to defend themselves."

Now each of them has a puzzle piece on them, and only by putting them together can Poirot and his friends find the answer to the question.

Sophie pondered: "So in the third stage, you want them to put the puzzle together?"

Lionel smiled. "That depends on their performance and reasoning ability."

Dinner proceeded in a quiet and subtle atmosphere. No one was in a hurry to leave, but no one engaged in the lively conversation that had been at lunch.

Everyone is waiting for the third phase, for the truth to be revealed—or for the end of their character's fate.

When dessert was served, James Rothschild stood up and walked to Lionel’s table: “Lion, I must say, this is the most fascinating game I’ve ever been involved in. Adele has completely become Mrs. Hubbard, and I am here to expose her Poirot.”

Lionel laughed: "That shows you've all gotten into character. That's the key to the game's success."

When will the third phase begin?

"At nine o'clock, I'll give everyone some time to digest dinner and also to process the information from this afternoon."

James nodded: "We need this time. My mind is full of clues, contradictions, and timelines. I need to sort them out."

He returned to his table and continued his discussion with the other two "Poirots".

Lionel looked at the passengers in the dining car. The sun had completely set, and outside the window was a deep blue twilight, with occasional lights flashing by.

As all the secrets are revealed layer by layer, as seemingly unrelated clues eventually connect to form a complete chain, as the truth comes to light...

How would these 19th-century elites react?
The bell rang, signaling the end of dinner. People gradually rose and left the dining car.

No one spoke, but everyone's eyes were communicating—warning, suspicion, anticipation, tension.

The real night of deduction is about to begin.

---------

At nine o'clock, everyone gathered again in the salon carriage, and soon the air was filled with the smoke of cigars and cigarettes.

The waiters brought coffee, tea, and brandy, then quietly withdrew.

Lionel stood in the center of the carriage: "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the final stage of *Murder on the Orient Express*. By day, Mr. Hercule Poirot had gathered testimonies, examined physical evidence, and formulated hypotheses. And now—"

Now, they must make a judgment. Who is the killer? How did they commit the crime? What was the motive? All the clues are here, all the testimonies are here.

He turned to the three "Poirots": "Are you ready?"

James Rothschild, speaking on behalf of the company, said: "We are ready."

Lionel nodded, signaling Sophie to distribute the last batch of cards. This time, the cards were given to only three "Poirots".

Lionel smiled and said, “Here are some tips. Please carefully recall all the information we have gathered today, especially those seemingly insignificant details.”

The three Poirots looked down at the cards, lost in thought. James Rothschild was the first to look up. He looked at the notes in his hand, turned to a page, and his finger stopped at a certain line.

He looked up at Georges Bois: "Mr. McQueen, you said this morning that Mr. Le Chaté's French is terrible, didn't you?"

Georges Boisier paused for a moment, then nodded.

[McQueen: "Yes. Le Chaté was probably a pseudonym he used in France. He had a very strong French accent; you could tell he was a foreigner."]

James Rothschild turned to the train conductor, Ferdinand Dubois: "Mr. Dubois, what did you hear him say when you went to Le Chaté's compartment around 12:40 last night?"

Ferdinand Dubois recalled: "He said, 'It's nothing, I made a mistake.' He spoke in French."

James Rothschild: "How was his French accent? I remember you studied his speech."

Ferdinand Dubois recalled the contents of the card and then answered honestly, “Very authentic. I would have been very impressed if there had been a foreign accent.”

James Rothschild laughed: "It's like someone with a heavy accent suddenly speaking perfect French and telling you, 'It's nothing, I made a mistake.'"

He looked at the other two "Poirots": "What does this mean?"

Henry Browitz's eyes lit up: "That means it wasn't Le Chatelier who was speaking back then!"

Georges Nagelmax also realized: "It's the murderer! Le Chaté is dead, or under control, and the murderer is mimicking his voice in the room!"

James nodded: "The killer's French is at least much better than Le Chaté's."

Lionel looked at them and gave them an approving smile. “Very good. You’ve found the first crack. Now, with this discovery, re-examine all the evidence and testimonies, and look for other contradictions. Of course, it’s best not to do so in this carriage.”

The three Poirots became excited. They left the salon carriage and went to the smoking carriage next door, where they huddled together and quickly flipped through their notes.

"If Le Chaté was already dead or unconscious at 12:40, then the time of death wouldn't be 1:15—that watch is fake!"

"The clock was turned upside down to create the illusion that the murderer was not present at 1:15."

"But why set it for 1:15? Unless that time is particularly advantageous to someone..."

They began to re-examine everyone's testimonies of time.

McQueen and Colonel Arbusnot testified to each other that they talked from midnight until 2 a.m.;
Hartman insisted that he was in his room all night and that no one passed through the hallway;
Countess Andrei said they went to bed at eleven o'clock;

The Swedish woman said she saw Le Chaté at 10:40, took her medicine, and went to sleep...

“If we assume that Le Chaté died before 12:40, then the testimonies of many people become questionable.”

The three "Poirots" exchanged a glance. They seemed to have thought of something, but weren't sure.

Lionel then entered the smoking compartment: "Now, you've made a crucial discovery: Le Chaté's time of death was earlier than the watch indicates, and the watch is a forgery. So, what's the next step?"

James Rothschild thought for a moment: "We should question the passengers again. But this time, instead of cross-examination, we need to set a logical trap."

"What do you mean?"

"Like in political or business negotiations, be a patient web weaver, setting logical traps in seemingly casual conversations. Let those seemingly perfect testimonies collapse on their own when faced with specific questions."

The other two "Poirots" lit up. They were both elites who had received the best education of the time and were rich in social experience, so they understood immediately.

Lionel nodded in satisfaction: "Then, let's begin. Who would you like to ask first?"

The three "Poirots" discussed for a while. Finally, James said, "Count and Countess Andrei."

Poirot: "Countess, we've noticed something minor. There's an oil stain on your luggage tag." He then showed the corresponding evidence card.

The Countess: "Stains are inevitable during travel."

Poirot: "The oil stain is cleverly placed—right on the first letter of your given name."

The evidence card has a simple drawing of a suitcase tag with the name "Elena Andrenyi" on it, but there is an oil stain where the letter "E" should be.

Poirot: "We checked all the passengers' luggage. Your tag is the only one with this stain. And the stain is very fresh."

Poirot then produced another card, which featured the design of the handkerchief embroidered with the letter "H," which had been found in Le Chaté's room.

Poirot: "At first we thought 'H' meant Mrs. Hubbard, or Miss Deberham, or the maid Schmidt. But we forgot another possibility—'H' could also mean Helena."

Poirot: "If your given name is not Elena, but Helena—then the initial 'H' can be easily painted over to 'E', and a little oil can cover up the alteration."

Countess Andrei: "How did you know?"

Poirot: "So your real name is Helena?"

Countess Andrei nodded after a moment of silence: “Helena Goldenberg. Sonia Armstrong—Daisy’s mother—is my sister.”

The Poirots exchanged glances, noticing the excitement in each other's eyes.

The first domino has already been knocked down; all that's left is the process.

(Third update, thank you everyone, please vote with monthly tickets)
(End of this chapter)