“Yes, this will delay us.”
“It is possible – yes,” agreed Poirot.
“But we can’t afford delay!
This train is due in at 6.55, and one has to cross the Bosphorus and catch the Simplon Orient Express on the other side at nine o’clock.
If there is an hour or two of delay we shall miss the connection.”
“It is possible, yes,” he admitted.
He looked at her curiously.
The hand that held the window bar was not quite steady; her lips, too, were trembling. “Does it matter to you very much, Mademoiselle?” he asked.
“Yes.
Yes, it does.
I – I must catch that train.”
She turned away from him and went down the corridor to join Colonel Arbuthnot.
Her anxiety, however, was needless.
Ten minutes later the train started again.
It arrived at Hayda-passar only five minutes late, having made up time on the journey.
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.
On arrival at the Galata Bridge he drove straight to the Tokatlian Hotel.
2.
The Tokatlian Hotel
At the Tokatlian, Hercule Poirot asked for a room with bath.
Then he stepped over to the concierge’s desk and inquired for letters.
There were three waiting for him and a telegram.
His eyebrows rose a little at the sight of the telegram.
It was unexpected.
He opened it in his usual neat, unhurried fashion.
The printed words stood out clearly.
Development you predicted in Kassner case has come unexpectedly. Please return immediately.
“Voila ce qui est embetant,” muttered Poirot vexedly.
He glanced up at the clock.
“I shall have to go on to-night,” he said to the concierge. “At what time does the Simplon Orient leave?”
“At nine o’clock, Monsieur.”
“Can you get me a sleeper?”
“Assuredly, Monsieur.
There is no difficulty this time of year.
The trains are almost empty.
First-class or second?”
“First.”
“Tres bien, Monsieur.
How far are you going?”
“To London.”
“Bien, Monsieur.
I will get you a ticket to London and reserve your sleeping-car accommodation in the Stamboul-Calais coach.”
Poirot glanced at the clock again.
It was ten minutes to eight.
“I have time to dine?”
“But assuredly, Monsieur.”
The little Belgian nodded.
He went over and cancelled his room order and crossed the hall to the restaurant.
As he was giving his order to the waiter, a hand was placed on his shoulder.