10But when they arrived at the station, the sleeping-car conductor informed M. Bouc that the No. 16 had been already taken.
“But what’s the matter?” asked M. Bouc angrily. “There is a conference somewhere? It is a party?”
“No, Monsieur. It is only chance. It just happens that many people have decided to travel to-night.”
“So annoying,” said M. Bouc.
“Don’t worry, my friend,” said Poirot. “I must travel in an ordinary carriage.”
“Has everyone arrived?” M. Bouc turned once more to the conductor.
“There is one passenger,” said the man slowly, with hesitation, “who has not yet arrived.”
“What compartment?”
“No. 7 berth, a second class.”
“Who is it?”
“An Englishman,” the conductor consulted his list. “A Mr. Harris.”
“It’s a good omen,” said Poirot merrily, “like the made-up Missis Harris from a novel by Dickens. Mr. Harris, he will not arrive.”
M. Bouc told the conductor to put Poirot’s luggage in No. 7.
“If this M. Harris arrives, we will settle the matter one way or another.”
However, even the most generous of tips lose their effect when a Director of the Company is on board and gives his orders.
“The train’s remarkably full,” said the young man. He had evidently got over his annoyance and decided to take the matter philosophically.
The No. 7 was the upper berth.
“I say, Sir,” said MacQueen. “If you’d rather have the lower berth — easier and all that — well, that’s all right by me.”
A likeable young fellow.
“No, no,” protested Poirot. “It is for one night only. At Belgrade —”
“Oh! I see. You’re getting out at Belgrade —”
“Not exactly. You see —”
There was a sudden jerk, and then the long lighted platform glided slowly past them.
The Orient Express had begun its journey across Europe.
When Poirot reached the compartment indicated, he found the tall young American of the Tokatlian there. He frowned as Poirot entered.
“Excuse me,” he said. “I think you’ve made a mistake.”
“You are Mr. Harris?” asked Poirot.
“No, my name is MacQueen. I —”
“There is no other berth on the train, Monsieur. The gentleman has to come in here,” said the sleeping-car conductor apologetically.
Poirot noticed the apology in his tone with some amusement. No doubt, the man had been promised a good tip if he could keep the compartment for the exclusive use of the other traveller.