4 THE EVIDENCE OF THE AMERICAN LADY
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 glance fluctuated between the three men. Poirot leaned forward.
“Tell it to me, Madame,” he said. “But first, pray be seated.”
Mrs. Hubbard plumped heavily down on to the seat opposite to him.
“What I’ve got to tell you is just this. There was a murder on the train last night, and the murderer was right there in my compartment¹!”
She paused to give dramatic emphasis to her words.
“You are sure of this, Madame?”
“Of course I’m sure! The idea! I know what I’m talking about. I’ll tell you everything there is to tell. I’d gotten into bed and gone to sleep, and suddenly I woke up—everything was dark—and I knew there was a man in my compartment. I was just so scared I couldn’t scream, if you know what I mean. I just lay there and thought, ‘Mercy, I’m going to be killed!’ I just can’t describe to you how I felt. These nasty trains, I thought, and all the outrages² I’d read of. And I thought, ‘Well, anyway, he won’t get my jewellery’—because, you see, I’d put that in a stocking and hidden it under my pillow—which isn’t any too comfortable, by the way; kinda bumpy³, if you know what I mean. But that’s neither here nor there. Where was I?”
“You realised, Madame, that there was a man in your compartment.”
“Yes, well, I just lay there with my eyes closed, and wondered what I’d do. And I thought, well, I’m just thankful that my daughter doesn’t know the plight⁴ I’m in. And then, somehow, I got my wits about me and I felt about with my hand and I pressed the bell for the conductor. I pressed it and I pressed it, but nothing happened—and I can tell you, I thought my heart was going to stop beating. ‘Mercy,’ I said to myself, ‘maybe they’ve murdered every single soul on the train.’ It was at a standstill anyhow and there was a nasty quiet feel in the air. But I just went on pressing that bell and oh! the relief when I heard footsteps coming running down the corridor and a knock on the door! ‘Come in,’ I screamed, and I switched on the lights at the same time. And would you believe it, there wasn’t a soul there!”

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