Resultado de búsqueda
pasajeros del Orient Express. ARBUTHNOT: Coronel del ejército inglés en la India y viajero del citado ferrocarril. BOUC: Belga, director de la Compagnie Internationale des Wagons Lits y muy amigo de Poirot desde años atrás. CONSTANTINE: Médico, otro de los viajeros del mencionado tren. DEBENHAM (Mary): Compañera de viaje de los citados
3 jun 2017
225.7K vistas
ASESINATO EN EL ORIENT EXPRESS 13 hombres se estremecieron. Dubosc se las arregló para mi rar subrepticiamente su reloj. Las cinco menos cinco. ¡So lamente cinco minutos más! Ante el temor de que el otro se hubiera dado cuenta, se apresuró a reanudar la conversación. —En esta época del año viaja muy poca gente —dijo
Asesinato en el Orient Express, ya desde su título, se inscribe no solo en el policial de enigma, sino que exhibe uno de los rasgos propios de los mejores relatos de Agatha Christie: el de un crimen cometido en un espacio cerrado con un número abundante pero limitado de sospechosos. Una muerte vio-
Agatha Christie. Eran las cinco de una madrugada de invierno en Siria. Jun-to al andén de Alepo estaba detenido el tren que las guías de fe-rrocarriles designan con el nombre de Taurus Express. Estaba formado por un coche con cocina comedor, un coche cama y dos coches corrientes. Junto al estribo del coche cama se encontraba un joven te ...
- HarperPaperbacks by Agatha Christie
- 1 AN IMPORTANT PASSENGER ON THE TAURUS EXPRESS
- THE TOKATLIAN HOTEL
- “You are full up to-night, I hear?”
- POIROT REFUSES A CASE
- A CRY IN THE NIGHT
- THE CRIME
- A WOMAN
- The first letter ran as follows:
- THE BODY
- THE ARMSTRONG KIDNAPPING CASE
- “Certainly, my dear doctor. Unless M. Poirot has any objection?”
- 1 THE EVIDENCE OF THE WAGON LIT CONDUCTOR
- THE EVIDENCE OF THE SECRETARY
- “You had no idea of this, Mr. MacQueen?”
- “You feel strongly about the matter, Mr. MacQueen?”
- THE EVIDENCE OF THE VALET
- THE EVIDENCE OF THE AMERICAN LADY
- THE EVIDENCE OF THE SWEDISH LADY
- THE EVIDENCE OF THE RUSSIAN PRINCESS
- THE EVIDENCE OF COUNT AND COUNTESS ANDRENYI
- THE EVIDENCE OF COLONEL ARBUTHNOT
- THE EVIDENCE OF MR. HARDMAN
- THE TOKATLLAN HOTEL
- S. E. RATCHETT
- THE EVIDENCE OF THE ITALIAN
- THE EVIDENCE OF MISS DEBENHAM
- THE EVIDENCE OF THE GERMAN LADY’S-MAID
- “Yes, Monsieur.”
- SUMMARY OF THE PASSENGERS’ EVIDENCE
- THE EVIDENCE OF THE WEAPON
- THE EVIDENCE OF THE PASSENGERS’ LUGGAGE
- 1 WHICH OF THEM?
- THINGS NEEDING EXPLANATION
- CERTAIN SUGGESTIVE POINTS
- THE GREASE SPOT ON A HUNGARIAN PASSPORT
- THE CHRISTIAN NAME OF PRINCESS DRAGOMIROFF
- A SECOND INTERVIEW WITH COLONEL ARBUTHNOT
- THE IDENTITY OF MARY DEBENHAM
- FURTHER SURPRISING REVELATIONS
- POIROT PROPOUNDS TWO SOLUTIONS
MURDER ON THE ORIENT EXPRESS THE SEVEN DIALS MYSTERY POSTERN OF FATE CROOKED HOUSE ORDEAL BY INNOCENCE THE CLOCKS
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. By the step leading up into the sleeping-car stood a young French lieutenant, resplendent in uniform conversi...
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. Devel...
“It is incredible, Monsieur. All the world elects to travel to-night!” “All the same you must find room for this gentleman here. He is a friend of mine. He can have the No. 16.” “It is taken, Monsieur.” “What? The No. 16?” A glance of understanding passed between them, and the conductor smiled. He was a tall sallow man of middle age. “But yes, Mons...
M. Hercule Poirot was a little late in entering the luncheon-car on the following day. He had risen early, had breakfasted almost alone, and had spent the morning going over the notes of the case that was recalling him to London. He had seen little of his travelling companion. M. Bouc, who was already seated, gated a greeting and summoned his frien...
The Simplon Orient Express arrived at Belgrade at a quarter to nine that evening. It was not due to depart again until 9.15, so Poirot descended to the platform. He did not, however, remain there long. The cold was bitter, and though the platform itself was protected, heavy snow was falling outside. He returned to his compartment. The conductor, wh...
He found it difficult to go to sleep again at once. For one thing he missed the motion of the train. If it was a station outside, it was curiously quiet. By contrast the noises on the train seemed unusually loud. He could hear Ratchett moving about next door—a click as he pulled down the washbasin, the sound of the tap running, a splashing noise, t...
“First of all,” said Poirot, “I should like a word or two with young Mr. MacQueen. He may be able to give us valuable information.” “Certainly,” said M. Bouc. He turned to the chef de train. “Get Mr. MacQueen to come here.” The chef de train left the carriage. The conductor returned with a bundle of passports and tickets. M. Bouc took them from him...
Thought you’d double-cross us and get away with it, did you? Not on your life. We’re out to GET you, Ratchett, and we WILL get you! There was no signature. With no comment beyond raised eyebrows, Poirot picked up the second letter. We’re going to take you for a ride, Ratchett. Some time soon. We’re going to GET you— see? Poirot laid the letter down...
Followed by Dr. Constantine, Poirot made his way to the next coach and to the compartment occupied by the murdered man. The conductor came and unlocked the door for them with his key. The two men passed inside. Poirot turned inquiringly to his companion. “How much has been disarranged in this compartment?” “Nothing has been touched. I was careful n...
They found M. Bouc finishing an omelet. “I thought it best to have lunch served immediately in the restaurant car,” he said. “Afterwards it will be cleared and M. Poirot can conduct his examination of the passengers there. In the meantime I have ordered them to bring us three some food here.” “An excellent idea,” said Poirot. None of the three men ...
“Not at all. Not at all,” said Poirot. After a little politeness in the matter of precedence—“Après vous, Monsieur”—“Mais non, après vous”—they left the compartment.
In the restaurant car all was in readiness. Poirot and M. Bouc sat together on one side of a table. The doctor sat across the aisle. On the table in front of Poirot was a plan of the Istanbul-Calais coach with the names of the passengers marked in red ink. The passports and tickets were in a pile at one side. There was writing paper, ink, pen, and ...
For a minute or two Poirot remained lost, in thought. “I think,” he said at last, “that it would be well to have a further word with Mr. MacQueen, in view of what we now know.” The young American appeared promptly. “Well,” he said, “how are things going?” “Not too badly. Since our last conversation, I have learnt something—the identity of Mr. Ratch...
“No, sir,” said the young American decidedly. “If I had, I’d have cut off my right hand before it had a chance to do secretarial work for him!”
“I have a particular reason for doing so. My father was the district attorney who handled the case, Mr. Poirot. I saw Mrs. Armstrong more than once—she was a lovely woman. So gentle and heartbroken.” His face darkened. “If ever a man deserved what he got, Ratchett—or Cassetti—is the man. I’m rejoiced at his end. Such a man wasn’t fit to live!” “You...
The American was succeeded by the pale Englishman with the inexpressive face whom Poirot had already noticed on the day before. He stood waiting very correctly. Poirot motioned to him to sit down. “You are, I understand, the valet of M. Ratchett.” “Yes, sir.” “Your name?” “Edward Henry Masterman.” “Your age?” “Thirty-nine.” “And your home address?”...
Mrs. Hubbard arrived in the dining-car in such a state of breathless excitement that she was hardly able to articulate her words. “Now just tell me this—who’s in authority here? I’ve got some very important information, very important indeed, and I’m going to tell it to someone in authority just as soon as I can. If you gentlemen—” Her wavering gla...
M. Bouc was handling the button that Mrs. Hubbard had left behind her. “This button. I cannot understand it. Does it mean that after all, Pierre Michel is involved in some way?” he asked. He paused, then continued, as Poirot did not reply. “What have you to say, my friend?” “That button, it suggests possibilities,” said Poirot thoughtfully. “Let us...
“Let us hear what Pierre Michel has to say about this button,” he said. The Wagon Lit conductor was recalled. He looked at them inquiringly. M. Bouc cleared his throat. “Michel,” he said, “here is a button from your tunic. It was found in the American lady’s compartment. What have you to say for yourself about it?” The conductor’s hand went automat...
Count and Countess Andrenyi were next summoned. The Count, however, entered the dining-car alone. There was no doubt that he was a fine-looking man seen face to face. He was at least six feet in height, with broad shoulders and slender hips. He was dressed in very well-cut English tweeds and might have been taken for an Englishman had it not been f...
Poirot roused himself with a slight start. His eyes twinkled a little as they met the eager ones of M. Bouc. “Ah! my dear old friend,” he said, “you see I have become what they call the snob! The first class, I feel it should be attended to before the second class. Next, I think, we will interview the good-looking Colonel Arbuthnot.” Finding the Co...
The last of the first-class passengers to be interviewed, Mr. Hardman, was the big flamboyant American who had shared a table with the Italian and the valet. He wore a somewhat loud check suit, a pink shirt, and a flashy tie-pin, and was rolling something round his tongue as he entered the dining-car. He had a big, fleshy, coarse-featured face, wit...
Dear Sir: You have been pointed out to me as an operative of the McNeil Detective Agency. Kindly report at my suite at four o’clock this afternoon.
“Eh bien?” “I reported at the time stated, and Mr. Ratchett put me wise to the situation. He showed me a couple of letters he’d got.” “He was alarmed?” “Pretended not to be, but he was rattled, all right. He put up a proposition to me. I was to travel by the same train as he did to Parrus and see that nobody got him. Well, gentlemen, I did travel b...
“And now,” said Poirot with a twinkle in his eye, “we will delight the heart of M. Bouc and see the Italian.” Antonio Foscarelli came into the dining-car with a swift, cat-like tread. His face beamed. It was a typical Italian face, sunny-looking and swarthy. He spoke French well and fluently with only a slight accent. “Your name is Antonio Foscarel...
The passengers came crowding into the restaurant car and took their seats round the tables. They all bore more or less the same expression, one of expectancy mingled with apprehension. The Swedish lady was still weeping, and Mrs. Hubbard was comforting her. “Now you must just take a hold on yourself, my dear. Everything’s going to be perfectly all ...
The passengers came crowding into the restaurant car and took their seats round the tables. They all bore more or less the same expression, one of expectancy mingled with apprehension. The Swedish lady was still weeping, and Mrs. Hubbard was comforting her. “Now you must just take a hold on yourself, my dear. Everything’s going to be perfectly all ...
The passengers came crowding into the restaurant car and took their seats round the tables. They all bore more or less the same expression, one of expectancy mingled with apprehension. The Swedish lady was still weeping, and Mrs. Hubbard was comforting her. “Now you must just take a hold on yourself, my dear. Everything’s going to be perfectly all ...
The passengers came crowding into the restaurant car and took their seats round the tables. They all bore more or less the same expression, one of expectancy mingled with apprehension. The Swedish lady was still weeping, and Mrs. Hubbard was comforting her. “Now you must just take a hold on yourself, my dear. Everything’s going to be perfectly all ...
The passengers came crowding into the restaurant car and took their seats round the tables. They all bore more or less the same expression, one of expectancy mingled with apprehension. The Swedish lady was still weeping, and Mrs. Hubbard was comforting her. “Now you must just take a hold on yourself, my dear. Everything’s going to be perfectly all ...
The passengers came crowding into the restaurant car and took their seats round the tables. They all bore more or less the same expression, one of expectancy mingled with apprehension. The Swedish lady was still weeping, and Mrs. Hubbard was comforting her. “Now you must just take a hold on yourself, my dear. Everything’s going to be perfectly all ...
The passengers came crowding into the restaurant car and took their seats round the tables. They all bore more or less the same expression, one of expectancy mingled with apprehension. The Swedish lady was still weeping, and Mrs. Hubbard was comforting her. “Now you must just take a hold on yourself, my dear. Everything’s going to be perfectly all ...
The passengers came crowding into the restaurant car and took their seats round the tables. They all bore more or less the same expression, one of expectancy mingled with apprehension. The Swedish lady was still weeping, and Mrs. Hubbard was comforting her. “Now you must just take a hold on yourself, my dear. Everything’s going to be perfectly all ...
The passengers came crowding into the restaurant car and took their seats round the tables. They all bore more or less the same expression, one of expectancy mingled with apprehension. The Swedish lady was still weeping, and Mrs. Hubbard was comforting her. “Now you must just take a hold on yourself, my dear. Everything’s going to be perfectly all ...
The passengers came crowding into the restaurant car and took their seats round the tables. They all bore more or less the same expression, one of expectancy mingled with apprehension. The Swedish lady was still weeping, and Mrs. Hubbard was comforting her. “Now you must just take a hold on yourself, my dear. Everything’s going to be perfectly all ...
The passengers came crowding into the restaurant car and took their seats round the tables. They all bore more or less the same expression, one of expectancy mingled with apprehension. The Swedish lady was still weeping, and Mrs. Hubbard was comforting her. “Now you must just take a hold on yourself, my dear. Everything’s going to be perfectly all ...
The passengers came crowding into the restaurant car and took their seats round the tables. They all bore more or less the same expression, one of expectancy mingled with apprehension. The Swedish lady was still weeping, and Mrs. Hubbard was comforting her. “Now you must just take a hold on yourself, my dear. Everything’s going to be perfectly all ...
The passengers came crowding into the restaurant car and took their seats round the tables. They all bore more or less the same expression, one of expectancy mingled with apprehension. The Swedish lady was still weeping, and Mrs. Hubbard was comforting her. “Now you must just take a hold on yourself, my dear. Everything’s going to be perfectly all ...
The passengers came crowding into the restaurant car and took their seats round the tables. They all bore more or less the same expression, one of expectancy mingled with apprehension. The Swedish lady was still weeping, and Mrs. Hubbard was comforting her. “Now you must just take a hold on yourself, my dear. Everything’s going to be perfectly all ...
The passengers came crowding into the restaurant car and took their seats round the tables. They all bore more or less the same expression, one of expectancy mingled with apprehension. The Swedish lady was still weeping, and Mrs. Hubbard was comforting her. “Now you must just take a hold on yourself, my dear. Everything’s going to be perfectly all ...
- 608KB
- 137
ORIENT EXPRESS_1-224.indd. Asesinato en el Orient Express es la novela de intriga más famosa de todos los tiempos, el caso más popular de Hércules Poirot. y la primera obra de Agatha Christie que fue llevada al cine. Tras quedarse atrapados de madrugada en una tormenta de nieve, los pasajeros del Orient Express despiertan para descubrir que ...
Simplon Orient Express. En 1929 un temporal de nieve impide el paso del Orient Express por territorio de la Tracia turca, y queda bloqueado cerca de una aldea llamada Tchersky. Esta aventura inspiró a Agatha Christie para su novela “Asesinato en el Orient Express”. fue realmente la Edad de Oro del Orient-Express.
