Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 611 The Final Choice (Bonus Chapter 2)

After Count and Countess André left, the three "Poirots" began a rapid discussion.

"They admitted their identities, but insisted that they did not leave the private room."

"If what she said is true, then the handkerchief was deliberately placed there to direct the investigation toward her."

“But in any case, we have made our first breakthrough – there are indeed Armstrong family members on board.”

……

This discovery greatly inspired them, and one passenger after another was "summoned" to the smoking carriage, and the subsequent questioning proceeded with great speed.

Colonel Abbasnot admitted that he knew Colonel Armstrong and had saved his life.

Miss DeBéham admitted that she had once been Daisy's governess: "Daisy... was the child I took care of."

Her voice choked slightly as she said this, and although she was played by a man, the emotion she conveyed through her immersive performance felt genuine.

When asked about his connection to the Armstrong family, Antonio Fuscari sighed: “I used to be the Armstrongs’ coachman. I taught Daisy how to hold the reins. She called me Antonio. She was an angel. Everyone in the yard loved her.”

Edward Masterman went even further, admitting that he was Colonel Armstrong's wartime orderly and later continued to serve him in New York.

His eyes began to well up with tears: "The Colonel, his wife, Daisy... they were like family to me! Kessetie ruined everything. The Colonel committed suicide, his wife died in childbirth, the nanny Susan jumped off a building... and that villain bought his freedom with money."

Another female passenger, playing the Swedish woman Greta Olson, admitted that she had been Daisy's nurse: "I witnessed that tragedy firsthand. Daisy... such a lovely little girl..."

She wiped her eyes with a handkerchief; this wasn't acting, but a genuine expression of her feelings.

Maid Hildegard Schmidt admits that she was once Armstrong's cook.

Duchess Dragomilov said, "Sonia Armstrong is my goddaughter. Linda Arden is my best friend. If I had known that Kessetie was in this car, I would have killed him with my own hands."

Under questioning, Cyrus Hartmann admitted: "I had a relationship with Susan—the French nanny. After she died, I was looking for Kessetie."

One passenger after another, one hidden identity after another. The atmosphere in the salon carriage grew increasingly tense.

At first it was just a game, but as everyone shared their character's connection to the tragedy, a genuine emotion began to emerge.

These 19th-century elites may never have experienced such a devastating family tragedy, but they could understand the loss and hatred.

When the last passenger—Hector McQueen, Georges Boiser—was questioned, he no longer needed the card prompts.

[McQueen: "I interviewed the Armstrongs. I saw their suffering. I promised them that if I found Kessetie, I would..."]

He didn't finish his sentence, but his meaning was clear: he was also one of those who harbored anger.

After a long while, the three "Poirots" returned to the salon carriage, each holding a thick stack of notes.

Their faces showed no joy at solving the case; instead, they were very serious, even somewhat somber.

James Rothschild looked around at all the passengers—those who had just admitted to their true identities as characters.

The words Lionel had just said to them in the carriage echoed in my mind: "After eliminating all the impossibilities, what remains, no matter how impossible, is also the truth."

He began slowly: "Ladies and gentlemen, based on the testimonies and evidence we have collected, two conclusions can be drawn regarding the murder of Le Chaté."

He paused for a moment to get everyone's attention.

"The first conclusion is that the murderer was an outsider. A short, dark-skinned man who spoke like a woman sneaked into the train, dressed in a train conductor's uniform, murdered Kessetie, and then escaped through the connecting door of Mrs. Hubbard's compartment. All the contradictions in the testimonies are carefully orchestrated misleading statements by the murderer."

He looked at everyone: "This conclusion explains most of the clues. But it has one problem—if the killer was an outsider, how did he know that Kesetti was in the car? How did he know his real identity? What was his motive? How did he sneak into the private room and leave without leaving a trace?"

No one answered.

James Rothschild continued, "So, we have a second conclusion."

He took a deep breath: "The second conclusion is that the murderer is not one person, but twelve people. All twelve people are directly or indirectly connected to the Armstrong family tragedy."

They were relatives, friends, servants, lovers… They formed a jury to try and execute Kessetie, who had escaped legal punishment.

The carriage was deathly silent. James Rothschild's voice gradually softened and became calm: "This conclusion can explain many strange things. Kessett had twelve stab wounds—the wounds varied in depth, some only grazed the skin, some were deep enough to expose the bone; some were caused by his right hand, and some by his left."

This doesn't seem like the result of one person's frenzied attack; it's more like multiple people acting in succession.

"The physical evidence found at the scene—the handkerchief, the pipe cleaner, the red pajamas—was almost all deliberately placed to mislead the investigation, to make the police suspect a specific person, or to believe that there was an outside killer."

"The contradiction in time can also be explained. If Le Chaté was already dead at 12:40, then the person speaking would be one of the murderers. And the watch stopped at 1:15 was to create an alibi for someone—perhaps at that time, there were a few people who could corroborate each other."

Henry Browitz continued: "A man in a train conductor's uniform started the operation; he drugged Le Chaté. Then the others took turns entering Le Chaté's room and each stabbed him once."

George Nagelmax added: "Then they set up the scene, burned letters that might reveal their identities, moved the hands of their watches, and left misleading clues. Finally, they returned to their rooms and gave each other alibis."

After the three "Poirots" finished speaking, they looked at the people playing the roles of passengers, especially Mrs. Hubbard.

George Nagelmax said with some pride, “I am the designer of the train, and I know every detail here very well—Mrs. Hubbard, you told us that when you are in bed, you cannot see whether the door to the Le Chaté compartment is bolted because the latch is blocked by the travel bag.”

Actually, if your booth number is even, the latch is directly above the handle. Therefore, it's impossible for a travel bag to block it. So why are you saying something that doesn't exist at all?

James Rothschild stared at his wife: "Mrs. Hubbard, do you have anything to explain?"

Mrs. Rothschild stood up. She looked first at Lionel, then at her husband, and the other two "Poirots," and then took a deep breath.

Mrs. Hubbard: “My real name… is Linda Arden. A stage actress, the mother of Sonia Armstrong, and the grandmother of Daisy Armstrong. When Kessetie used money to escape legal punishment, we—all those who loved that family—knew that justice wouldn’t come from the courts. So we decided to take it upon ourselves.”

“We formed a jury of twelve people. The train conductor, Ferdinand Dubois, agreed to help us because his daughter, Susan, was the nanny who committed suicide. At Venkovtsy station, he got off the train, and our men put on their uniforms and began their operation.”

“We took turns entering Le Chaté’s room through my private room. He had been anesthetized. Each of us stabbed him once—no one knew which stab would be fatal, and no one cared. The important thing was that we were all involved in the trial.”

"Then we set up the scene. We burned the letters. We left the handkerchiefs and pipe cleaners. I put the red pajamas in a conspicuous place. We turned the clock hands to create chaos."

"But I made a mistake. I thought all the latches in all the boxes were in the same position. I hung my travel bag on the doorknob, hoping to make people think the latches were blocked, so the murderer could only escape through the connecting door."

But I didn't know that the latches for odd-numbered and even-numbered rooms were in different positions. My room was odd-numbered, while Le Chaté's was even-numbered… This detail, along with others, ultimately gave us away.

When delivering this line, Mrs. Rothschild exuded a heartbreaking sorrow and repression, as if she truly were a mother who had lost her daughter and her family.

The carriage remained silent for a long time. No one applauded or cheered.

On the contrary, everyone was somewhat at a loss—because Lionel's "script" for them ended there.

Whether it was the three gentlemen playing Poirot or the others playing the murderer, for a moment they didn't know what to say next.

Lionel walked slowly to the center of the carriage: "The game is actually over here. The three Poirots have come to the right conclusion. The twelve passengers—Armstrong’s relatives, friends, and servants—formed a jury and carried out the lynching."

He paused: "But in this story, Detective Poirot faces a choice. They can report the first conclusion to the police—that an outsider committed the crime and escaped. In this way, the passengers can continue their lives, while a deserving villain gets punished."

"Or they could report the second conclusion—that twelve people conspired to murder. In that case, justice would be served, but the twelve people who had also suffered greatly would face trial."

Lionel surveyed the salon carriage: "Now, I want to ask you all—not in the game, but as yourselves, if you were Poirot, what conclusion would you provide when the police arrive?"

The question was raised, but no one could answer it immediately.

Mrs. Rothschild was lost in thought, occasionally opening and closing her folding fan; James Rothschild looked at his wife, then at the others.

Georges Boiser frowned, while Charles Fressinet looked serious, as if he were considering a real political choice.

Outside the train window was a pitch-black night, with the occasional flash of lights from a distant village. The rhythm of the train wheels hitting the rails was steady and monotonous.

Everyone was lost in their own thoughts.

Law or justice? Procedure or outcome? Can collective conspiracy be forgiven? Under what circumstances is lynching acceptable?
The game is over, but the real reflection has just begun.

Lionel didn't urge them on, but said softly, "It's already midnight. Let's leave this decision for tomorrow's journey. Goodnight, everyone."

After saying this, he bowed slightly, took Sophie's hand, and left the salon carriage.

(Fourth update, please vote with monthly tickets. Adapting this stuff is too much work and thankless...)
(End of this chapter)