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Agatha Christie's Poirot (1989–2013): Season 10, Episode 1 - The Mystery of the Blue Train - full transcript

After traveling on the Blue Train from Calais to Nice, Hercule Poirot is pressed into service to help solve the murder of heiress Ruth Kettering who is found savagely beaten in her compartment. She was the daughter of wealthy industrialist Rufus Van Alden and very much wanted a divorce. Both her husband and her lover were on the train but she had changed rooms with another passenger, Katherine Grey, so the question naturally arises as to whether she was the intended victim. Grey may also have had enemies as she had recently inherited a very large sum of money and greedy relatives had suddenly taken a interest in her. When an attempt is subsequently made on Grey's life, this appears to the case but Poirot methodically sifts through all of the clues to determine the motive and identify the killer.

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The Heart of Fire.

So it is.

Got a light?



[ Down-tempo jazz plays ]

[Music continues]

Have you seen this?



Where's Corks?

LENOX: I thought you wanted me
to call him Daddy.

Don't be facetious.
Read that.

[ Needle scratches,
music stops ]

[Birds chirping]

Some woman who was poor
is now rich.

- What of it?
- Katherine Grey!

She's my cousin!
My first cousin!

Never heard of her.

No. Well, we never had
a tremendous amount in common.

Why can't someone die and
leave me half a million quid?

I'd spend it properly.

And all the right tradesmen
would be rewarded and fulfilled.

And it'd all be lovely.

Darling Mummy.

You're always thinking
of other people.

I think I should invite
Katherine to come and stay.

Some Riviera sunshine
might cheer her up.

If anyone asks me what I get
from my mother,

I'll say shamelessness.

Pull your weight, darling, or
that really will be all you get.

[Music resumes]

Good morning, madam.
Take your bags?

Thank you, madam.

WOMAN: [American accent]
Is that him?

Oh, my God.
That's him.

M. Poirot?

I'm really going to faint.

My daughter, you see,
is a tremendous fan of yours.


Mr. Poirot, Rufus Van Aldin.

I'm in oil--
figuratively speaking.


And I'm Ruth.

Or the Honorable
Mrs. Derek Kettering

if I'm trying to book a table
for lunch.

- You know the English.
- Madame.

But I sincerely am a great
admirer of your achievements.

So, today is my birthday.

Félicitations, madame.

I'm having a party tonight here.

Say you'll come
or the evening will be ruined.

I'll kill myself.
It'll be your fault.

Alas, madame, tonight I am busy.

Would you deny a girl a favor
on her birthday?


You know it makes sense.

[ Mid-tempo jazz Playing ]

[ Indistinct conversations ]

And of course a raging lesbian.

But Americans are
famously maladroit

in their choice of wives.

I mean, look at Rufus Van Aldin.

Married some singer,

who promptly drank away
her figure

and what little brain
she possessed.

She clung on through the birth
of the child--

this one dancing--

and then bolted home
to Buenos Aires.

Never heard of again.

Of course, received wisdom is...
Van Aldin had her bumped off.


As I say that,
he's looking straight at me.

[Music continues]


Isn't she fabulous?

M. Van Aldin.

Look at her go.

I see that you adore her.

To the brink of dementia,
where she tends to keep me.

And to purchase for her a jewel
of such magnificence

as the Heart of Fire.

Sharper than diamond,
redder than blood.

I'm impressed.
You clearly know your stones.

No. Centuries of passion
and duplicity attend this stone.

Betrayal, murder.

Alors, it is a celebrity.

VAN ALDIN: Getting the thing
was certainly entertaining.

Drink for you, sir?


Thank you.

There is something about that
gentleman that displeases you?

I see no gentleman.

I see Derek goddamn Kettering.

My goddamn gold-digging
son-of-a-bitch son-in-law.

You know I'm crazy about you,

We're all crazy about you.

Some of us are just crazy.

You're embarrassing me.

You're aristocracy now, darling.

You don't get embarrassed.

You set the tone.

[ Inhales sharply]

[Music continues]

Why do women do it, Poirot?

Leave their damned brains
in neutral

when the bad guys
start to sweet talk?

Why couldn't she have married

some straight-up-and-down

who'd take care of her,
for God's sake?

Like Knighton.


My secretary, Major Knighton.

This is Poirot.

M. Poirot.

What a pleasure it is
to meet you.

And you, Major.

if you will excuse me.

I called you dull, Knighton.
I apologize.

I was just trying to make
a point.

Oh, I've been called worse, sir.

Usually by you.

MAN: Card.


Can't you hear me, damn you?

Loud and clear, old boy.
I'm just anxious on your behalf.

You do owe me
rather a lot of money.

Are you going to furnish me
with the required bloody card

or aren't you?

Thank you!
Bust! Sod it!

Another hand.

It may be your style

to kick a fellow when he's down,
Kettering, but it isn't mine.

I've never heard such bum-faced
donkeyness in all my life.

Of course it's your style.

Deal the cards.

You're drunk.

My dear Count,

to sit gazing at you
for any length of time,

drunkenness is absolutely

Deal the bloody cards.

[Cards shuffling]



[ Cork pops ]

[Wine pouring]

Uh, please, do excuse me.

may I congratulate you

on a choice most excellent
of the Bourgogne.

Whenever dine here,
I choose this.




Please do forgive me.

That was presumptuous
in the extreme.

Not at all.

It's obvious that I'm
grotesquely out of place here.

Au contraire, mademoiselle.

You fit this surrounding
but to perfection.

Permit me to introduce myself.

Hercule Poirot.

Katherine Grey.


[Music continues]

[ Door closes ]


Well, this is nice.

Derek, tomorrow morning,

my daughter's going to file
for divorce.

Is Ruth at all aware that this
is what she's going to do?

Because I'm not sure
she'd be entirely thrilled.

I'll pay you £100,000.

[ Whistles ]

Is that your best offer?

That's my only offer.

Well, old boy...

I'll tell you what.

Why don't you take
your loose change

and shove it up your dreary
colonial arse?


Well, this has all been
frightfully amusing.

But my wife will be wondering
where I've got to.

[ Door opens]

She's off to Nice, did you know?

Might be an idea
for me to tag along.

Could, uh, perk up
the old nuptials.

If you contest the action,
I warn you now,

I can get documentary evidence
of infidelity.

Hers, undoubtedly.

Not mine.

I'm afraid the old chap's been
hors de combat

ever since I started drinking
scotch for breakfast.

And that was a long time ago.

Get the hell out of here!



Marvelous party.

One day, there I was
in the back of beyond,

looking after a cantankerous
rich old lady.

Next day, I'm one myself.

No, no, no, no, no.
I dispute "old."


But it is curious, monsieur.

When someone who's never had
much money

and never much cared
suddenly comes into a lot,

then crowds of relatives one's
never been particularly aware of

all start being
terrifically hospitable.

No. You do yourself the grave
disservice to say such a thing.

I'm serious.

Lady Tamplin, a cousin of mine

I've met once, I think,
in my adult life,

has invited me to stay
at her house on the Riviera.


Hence all this.

I thought I'd better have a day
or two in London to mug up,

wear a dress
I didn't actually make myself,

dine here, for instance,

and learn how to use the knives
and forks

so I don't disgrace myself
at table.

I mean, look at me with the wine

- I was pathetic.
- No.

Mademoiselle, all one ever needs
are the good manners.

The rest is just silliness and
snobbery valued only by bores.


[ Door opens]

[ Clattering ]


[ Chuckles ]

So, you travel by what,
the Blue Train?

Oh. Yes, I do.

So do I.

- No.
- Mais oui.

Oh, you know, it is beyond
delightful, mademoiselle,

that I may have en route the
pleasure of your conversation.

You can steer me through
all the knives and forks.

I shall be your avuncular.

Oh, yes.
An avuncular.

Oh, that's exactly what I need.


Papa Poirot,
he is at your disposal.


Come on.
Come on.

[ Music, indistinct
conversations in distance]

[ Door closes ]

Oh, mon petit ange, mon coeur.

Without you, my darling...
my life is meaningless.

Mm. Then you'll have to have me.

And you shall.

On the train.

It shall be an honor
to travel third-class.

But do not think that my passion
will be sated by a single night.

In Nice...

In Nice, you must find a way
to escape to be with me.

Not in Nice.

Well, one understands,
of course that you retain

some kind of withered stump
of affection for your husband.

- But frankly--
- No. It's not Derek.

It's, uh, someone else.

Someone I have to meet
on my own.

Darling, don't look so stricken.

You have no reason
to be jealous.

[Music continues]

That looks painful.

Should have seen the other chap.

Can I, um...

No, no, no.

How very kind of you.

No, no.
I'm-- I'm fine.

It's old news.
No discomfort.

Gently Bentley
will usually arrive.

[Music continues]

Miss Milesi.

Tomorrow afternoon, you and I
are going to fly to Paris

and open an account
for Kettering.

I remember what it's like
to worry about money, Knighton.

Pretending you don't give
a damn about it is one thing,

but having it in your hands,

It may do the trick.

I am going to bed.


Good night.

Good night.

[ Indistinct shouting ]



Are stoles being worn vertically
this season?

Good party, madam?

Wonderful. Thank you, Mason.

Really wonderful, Daddy.

Thank you so much.

You're a wonderful girl.

You're not taking this with you,
are you, on the train?

What do you think I am, crazy?

Never travel with anything
you couldn't stand to lose.

Who's been telling me that,
I wonder,

since I was, uh, 4 years old?

I'll get my people
to talk to Derek's lawyers.

He has to go, honey.

By the time you get back,
it'll all be over.

Sleep tight, little bear.


Better put that somewhere safe,

Yes, madam.

Will we be taking it with us
or leaving it?

- Taking it.
- [ Bell chimes, doors open ]

[Whistle blows]

[ Indistinct conversations ]

Thank you.


Anybody who is anybody.

- [ Knock on door]
- KATHERINE: M. Poirot?

Entrez, mademoiselle.

I'm so sorry to disturb you.

But I was wondering--
In the case of the artichokes,

is it the fork like this...
o-or like this?

It was a joke, monsieur.

I'm teasing you.

Hold that bloody train!

[ Man shouting in French]

What extraordinary people
there are in France.

Oui. I do not think
that we shall be bored.

[ Shouting continues]


Tickets! Tickets!

[Whistle blowing ]

Darling, what a business!


That poor old bat
popping her clogs in the bath

and you being the one
to find her.

It's Rosie Tamplin.

Don't you recognize me, darling?
It has been a while.

One lived in hope that you might
pop down to see us in Nice.

But one quite understands

how frantically busy you must
have been down in Surrey.

- Hampshire.
- Absolutely.

Anyway, Corky and I thought

we simply must make the most
of you

now we've managed to drag you
to the continent.

So why not surprise you
on the train?


Do you speak French at all?

Don't give it
a moment's thought.

All the right people
speak English.

Here they are at last.

Katherine, my daughter, Lenox.

And this infant is my husband,

- He's not my father, obviously.
- Lord, no!

That would be the astonishment
of science.

I'm, uh-- What am I, darling?
I'm husband number four.

Give or take a brace.

Katherine, tell you what.

We're having a knees-up
in your honor tomorrow.

Toute Nice will be there.
It should be a scream.

Have you ever played bunnies?

- It's terribly easy.
- Now, look.

The poor girl's not ready
to be Tamplinated.

She's come in here
to read her book.

So let's give her
10 minutes' peace.

Come on. Shoo.
Let her get her train legs.

We can yak over dinner.

- Which compartment are you in?
- Um, number seven.

Oh! Excellent!
Bang next door to Lenox.

You two can have a good old
chin-wag through the wall

all the way to Nice.

Come on, troops.

Following wind.
She's a bit of a cracker.

Don't get too comfortable.

We're not here
to enjoy ourselves.

[Whistle blows]



That's that.

Do you think I'm doing
the wrong thing?

Paying off Kettering?

Not necessarily, sir.

But it's--
it's damnably annoying.



I need a long bath to wash
this dirty business off of me.

Then I'm going to go to sleep.

I don't yet need anyone to help
me with any of the above,

so I'll say good night.

If you're sure, sir.

Well, sure, I'm sure.

You kick the gong around,

Tab's on me.
This is Paris.

Somebody's got to have
a good time.

Excuse me.
Is this seat taken?

Oh, I'm sorry.
I was expecting someone.

Well, as soon as you see him,
holler and I'll budge.

I like to get
my postcards written

before the vacation starts,
you know?

God, I'm bored.

Of course you're bored, darling.
It's your hormones.


Corky, why don't you go and find
a little friend to play with?



Give the American girl
five minutes, then muscle in.

You're making me into
such a prostitute.

Darling, that would be simple.

I'm helping you make nice
friends, which is much harder.

He's my man.

I love him.

And no, he is not my husband.

Listen, I-I saw you coming out
of number seven.

Do you think you might possibly
do me the most enormous favor?

Would you trade with me?
You don't have to do a thing.

My maid would move
all your stuff.

It's just that number seven
is more conveniently placed.

That end of the carriage...

it's closer to him.

I ask you this for love.

Real love.

Of course.

I-I'm sure that'll be fine.

Thank you.

Thank God you're a woman
of the world.


Oh, steward.

Miss Van Aldin.

Could you please give this
to my maid?

I know.

The name does tend
to just crash into the room

and roll around like a grenade,

everybody wondering
whether or not

they can decently ask
about my mother.

I wasn't going to.

Do I remember her, and so forth.

The truth, which I never tell
the press, is no.

I don't remember her at all.

I close my eyes and think about
her, and there's nothing.

Just... a big, empty space

I've carried around
my whole life.

Désolé, monsieur.
Un moment. Mademoiselle.


Ignite me.

Monsieur, excusez-moi.


[ Lighter clicks]

Un cassis, s'il vous plait.


- M. Poirot.
- Madame.

I didn't know
you were on this train.

Mais oui.

And you're traveling
with this lady?

I have that honor, oui.

Then this must be your seat.

Merci, madame.

The words "horse" and "dark"
somehow spring to mind.

I am avuncular to Mlle. Grey.

How nice for her.

No wonder her complexion
is so fresh.


Perhaps I should circulate the
notion that you're my bodyguard.

The solicitors said
I shouldn't even travel

as far as the pillar-box
at the end of the road

without having made my will.

POIROT: For once, the solicitors
are probably correct.

It's perverse of me, I know.

But after a lifetime

of effectively
domestic service,

I still don't like
being told what to do.

I shall do it, of course.

As soon as I get back
to England.

But five to one,
I don't think I'll be murdered

in the course
of the next few days.

By the standards of my fellow
passengers, I'm still poor.

Five to one?

That is a calculation
that I cannot support.

What's wrong with it?

Because the numbers,
they are odd,

and I prefer them to be even.

The odd numbers, they make me...

M. Poirot.

I'm so glad you're here.

Did I hear the name Poirot?


This is so thrilling,
I can hardly breathe.

Tell me, monsieur,
have you taken rooms in a hotel?

You absolutely must cancel them.

All French hotels
are intolerable,

especially the expensive ones.

No, no.

You are staying with us.

[ Indistinct conversations ]

[ Knock on door]

Just a minute.

[ Door opens]

- MASON: Mrs. Kettering, sir--
- Mr. Kettering heard.

He's already had the privilege
of seeing his wife's neck naked.

I can manage.


Well, that's why you're here,
isn't it?

Amazingly, no.

I had an idea.

I thought that,
free of your father

and other benign influences,

we might have a chance
to patch things up.

You really are a piece of work.

But I discovered that the
benignest influence of them all

is actually on the bloody train!

Have a care, Ruthie.

He's not what he seems.

Yet another way in which
he is remarkably unlike you.

La Roche is a card sharp.

He's a confidence trickster!

I want a divorce.

[ Chuckles ]

No, Ruthie.

You don't.

I want a divorce, Derek.

And do you know what?
That scares the hell out of you.

It makes you sick
to your handmade boots

because it's goodbye
to the Yankee milch cow,

hello, bankruptcy.

Well, I've never in my darkest
hour thought of you as a cow.

A horse, possibly,
in a betting sense.

So you'd better take what's
going while you still can, huh?

Actually...'s not enough.

You are insufferable.

I've never lied to you, Ruthie.

Not once.

Who is it?

It is I, Hercule Poirot.

Our table, it is prepared.

[ Hinges creak]

[ Sobs]

You see, mademoiselle...

...what such a picture,
it does not show

is that the man is even happier
than the child.

To know that the daughter
whom he adores

loves him with all her heart.

Mon Dieu.
This moment, it is immortal.


That's what I used to think.

Then Daddy killed himself.


At the time this picture
was taken,

he employed
almost 1,000 men and women.

- No!
- Knew them all by name.

[Train rattles]

When Van Aldin Oil moved
to buy him out,

he agreed
on the strict understanding

that they would retain
the entire workforce.

Within a week of taking control,
they sacked everybody.

"How can I look them
in the eye?" my father said.

"I've betrayed them all."

Tonight when she was talking,
I wanted my father so much,

I thought I was going to die.


Where are we?

We seem to keep stopping
and starting.

Well, at the moment,

we-- we travel around Paris
on the Ceinture.

The suburbs
through which we must creep.

It is frustratingly slow.

Um, I think I might give the
knives and forks a miss tonight.

I'm feeling a bit washed out.

Do you mind awfully?

No, no, no.
Not at all.

I am at your service,
Mlle. Grey.

Très bien, Miss Van Aldin.

I'll have Chef prepare
a late supper

for you to take
in your compartment.

10:00, madame?

[ Indistinct conversations ]

Playing cards?

Corky, listen to me.

If you don't show for dinner,
that is time wasted.

Bunny, a bloke's got to be free
to play a game of cards.

I don't think you fully
appreciate the gravity--

I appreciate the hell
out of it, old girl.



[ Indistinct conversations ]

Is Katherine awfully unwell?

How frantically boring for her.

Don't get up.

Just wish her a good night's
sleep from all of us.

[ Sobs]

Well, that's me, girls.
I'm out.

Stakes are getting a bit hairy
for the Corker.

But don't let me put the brakes
on you fellows.

You, um, you crack on.

I think this gentleman's
had enough.

Deal the cards.

Mais je me demande,

how when the cards fall cruelly
for Mr. Kettering yet again,

will he possibly be able
to pay me?

Unless, of course,

he finds very quickly
a more favorable combination.


Miss Van Aldin?

[Whistle blows]

[Train rattles]

I wasn't asleep.

[ Brakes screech ]

[ Steam hisses ]

[ Glass shatters ]

[ Indistinct shouting ]

Hold the bloody train!

[Whistle blows]

[Train chugging]

[ Indistinct conversations ]

[Whistle blows]

[Woman screams]

My dear Lady Tamplin.

Don't. Don't.
I think I'm going to be sick.

What ever is the matter,
Lady Tamplin?

Oh, God.

What has happened to Mlle. Grey?


Oh, my God.

I shouldn't have to look
at all that blood.


[ Screaming ]

- Oh!
- Oh.

I'm so sorry
to have kept you waiting.

I couldn't find my silly comb.

Compartment number seven.

[ Footsteps approaching ]

Miss Van Aldin, sir.

But who can tell, mon ami?

Who can tell?

Tell to me what you see,

[ Indistinct conversations
in distance]

A bottle of champagne.

Mirror. Smashed.

The strong box has been opened.
Not forced.

Whatever was hanging
from that necklace is now gone.

The Heart of Fire.

Her face.

Well, there isn't one.

She's been hit so many times,
there's nothing left.

Death within the last...

...nine hours.

[Whistle blows]

No. Poirot, he left
the dining car at 10:00.

And he saw Mme. Kettering
receive from the steward

her tray.

At 4:00 in the morning,
he heard the smash of glass...

...and saw a man
hastening down the corridor.

Renvoyez le gargon au cabine.

I think she had a man in here.

The woman had a servant
of some description?

A maid.

But she has gone.


Missing jewels.
Missing maid.

No. She left the train at Paris,
at the Gare de Lyon.

To clear the way for lover boy,


The brain doesn't work
without coffee.

The trouble with abroad

is it's full
of bloody foreigners!


Sorry to despoil communion
with Mecca and all that,

but I'm looking for a copper.

Do you speak English?

Yes, M. Kettering.

Who is that under there?

Oh, my dear God.


My darling Ruth.

[ Down-tempo music plays ]

[Vehicles passing ]

What a dreadful thing this is.

Did you know the woman?

Um, n-no.

I-I mean...

No. Not really.




What we all need
is a bloody stiff drink.

Hear, hear.
I'll get them.

POIROT: No, no, no, no.
If you please. If you please.

I'm afraid the drink,
it will have to wait.

The inspector wishes
all passengers to remain here

- for interview.
- Oh, what rot.

Fellow can wish all he likes.

We're British citizens.

Isn't there something
in the passport about

"His Majesty requests
and requires

we don't have to fanny about
with foreign policemen"?


Oh, God.

How grim.

Get out of my way, God damn it!


Non, monsieur.

Calmez-vous, monsieur.

Mlle. Mason,
could you explain to me, please,

how it was that you came
to leave the train in Paris?

It is important
that you speak freely.



I was dressing Madam for dinner

when there was a knock
on the door.

And she says, "Wait."

But the door opens,
and it's Mr. Kettering.

So I went off
and made myself scarce.

Booked a table for dinner,

And-- And when I came back,
the door was locked.

And I could hear Madam
speaking French to someone.

And I thought...

..."Well, who's that, then?"

Because Mr. Kettering
doesn't speak French.

And then...

she puts her head
'round the door and she says,

"Change of plan, Mason.

Get a taxi to the George V,

and I'll send you a wire
telling you what to do."

I knew something wasn't right,
Mr. V.

And I tried to call you, but
they-- they couldn't find you.

It's okay, Mason.

You did your best.

[ Sobs]

Thank you, mademoiselle.
That will be all.

I think she's lying.

She was there, actually.


I-I saw her.

At the George,
after you turned in.

I didn't think she saw me.

But it was definitely her.

I should have said hello, but...

I didn't awfully want
the company.

[Whistle blows in distance]

[ Indistinct conversations ]

Oui, monsieur.
A I'intérieur.

a Va?

Toujours aussi raffinée, hm?

Et douce,
une femme bien élevée.

POIROT: You are most welcome,
M. Kettering.

Do continue, but in English,
if you please.

Of what use are concealments?
We are all men of the world.

It is true--

I was on the same train
as my beloved.

But for reasons of discretion,
I traveled third class.

At her invitation, I was to...
visit her compartment.

You slimy little sewer rat.

There is no shame in love.

My beloved had arranged
an exchange of premises

in order to facilitate
our assignation.

She finds such things amusing.

Yes. If I-I could just interrupt
proceedings for a minute.

I've-- I've got something

I've been meaning to give you,
La Roche.

Ah. Ah, yes.
Here we go.

[ Grunts]

You could have given me
a black eye!

Match your fingernails
and your heart.


Do you want the inspector
to put you in the cells?

You hear the way he speaks
about my wife?

Possessing her?

You had her alive.
You will not have her dead!

In what sense "dead"?

In the sense that someone
has smashed her face in

with a hammer.

I thought you were investigating
a theft.

Is that really what you thought?

You crook.

You'd have the nipple
off your mother's tit.

How could I possibly have stolen
anything, you imbecile,

when I spent the entire evening
marinating in your company?

This is true?

You were together
all of the time?


We were playing cards with some
unfeasibly gormless idiot.

Corky Tamplin.

Apart from for five minutes.

And I might as well say this
before Mason squeals on me,

if she hasn't already.

I knocked on Ruth's door
and had a blazing row with her.



You must celebrate.

Order the champagne.

What are you talking about?

M. Van Aldin has informed me
that your wife,

she made no will.

You are richer by £2 million.

That is the amount
settled on her by her father.

Your wife, she dies intestate.
So the money, it is yours.

[Hinges squeak]

Je vous félicité.

[ Door closes ]

Excusez-moi, madame.

Par ici.

[ Indistinct conversations ]

Ah, signora.

I will be brief.

All I must discover
at this moment

is which of the passengers
is known to you personally.

I know nobody.

So you're not acquainted
with M. Derek Kettering?

I know nobody.

I travel alone,
and I do not make acquaintances.

Le Comte de la Roche?

M. Corky Tamplin?


Men always believe
that sheer persistence

will get them
what they think they want.

It has no dignity,
and it does not work.

Ruth Kettering?

Mlle. Katherine Grey?

I was in bed --all night.

If you seek corroboration,
interrogate my pillow.

Am I free to go?

For the present, signora,
we are all free.

Excuse me.

LADY TAMPLIN: On the contrary--
It would be ghastly

not to be interrogated
when it's so fashionable.

Mind you, I can't see the point.

We weren't careering about the
train murdering strange women.

We were in bed.

I wasn't.

No. You were playing cards
with your little chums.

All of the night,
you played the cards?

That's right.

I didn't bet.

- And there you remained?
- That's right.

No, M. Corky.
That is wrong.

Because at Marseilles,
you almost gave to Poirot

the heart attack
by rushing past his window

as the train,
it was about to depart.

So I did.

I got off to stretch the legs
and the billowy portions.

Almost missed the ruddy train.

Was it Marseilles?

It was.


Well, I wouldn't set much store

by information
emanating from me.

[ Door closes ]

Famously stuck
for gray matter, eh?

Everyone knows that Corky's got
a few pages glued together.

But it was also at Marseilles
that the murder was committed.

Oh, hell.
I've goofed.

No, M. Corky.

You have goofed only if the
murder, it was committed by you.

And this, Poirot is not,
at the present time...

[ Door closes ]

...disposed to believe.

[ Up-tempo music plays]

[ Engine turns over]

[ Laughter]

[Music continues]

[ Laughter]

Goodness, Rosaline.
What a glorious place.

It is rather splendid,
in a shabby sort of way.

We're revoltingly happy here.

[ Chuckles ]

Now, Katherine, monsieur.

There are only two rules
at the Villa Marguerite.

You shall be comfortable
and you shall not be hungry.

Or thirsty, by God.

That is most kind, monsieur.

Uh, would it be possible
for me to use the telephone?

I have one more person
to question.

Open up, Corks.

Mr. P. wants the blower.


M. Van Aldin, you knew
that I wished to interview you,

and yet you disappeared.

I was upset.

I apologize.
What do you want to know?

You flew to Nice from Paris.

- Yes.
- Why?

It was a surprise.

For whom?

For my daughter.
Spur of the moment.

I took a plane
from Paris to Nice.

Oh, come on.
You can talk to the pilot.

Oh, are you going to say
that someone as wealthy as me

could have bribed the pilot?

Could you not?

Of course I could!

I could bribe the damned
president of the United States

to dance naked
on the White House steps!

I was not on the train, Poirot.

Take it or leave it.

Dear Mr. Van Aldin,
you poor, poor thing.

I absolutely insist
you stay with us tonight.

You need company.
You need distraction.

You're at the Villa Marguerite
now, Mr. Van Aldin.

Things here are as right
as rain.

You'll see.

[ Down-tempo jazz plays ]

[ Insects chirping ]

[Music continues]

Can you tell I'm wearing
suspenders under this?



The party doesn't start
for half an hour.

You're like a little puppy,
really, aren't you?

I'm cross with you.


Did I forget something?

Married three years, eh?

That's, um, that's lino,
isn't it?


So where's my present?

In my pocket.

Hand it over.

Get it yourself, you lazy tart!

[ Both laughing]

Better be something down here
apart from the usual nonsense.

- Hm.
- [Laughs]

I love you, Rosie.

[ Paper rustling ]


[ Up-tempo jazz playing ]

[ Laughter,
indistinct conversations ]


[Music continues]

- Ah!


This is local.

We call it the Infuriator.

This'll put lead into your
little propelling pencil.

N-Non, merci.



Mm. I must circulate
before I drink it all myself.

Look here!

I accuse you of being my wife!

And I demand the right
to be kissed.

[ Smooches, laughs ]

[Music continues]

[ Laughter,
indistinct conversations ]


Oh, clever Corky.

Mummy thought he'd forgotten
her anniversary.

But he clearly hasn't.
He's got her something.

I just hope to God for his sake

it didn't cost a lot
of her money.

But if money is in short supply,
this rekindled friendship

with Mlle. Grey
might be most convenient.

Well, that's why she's here.

I mean, it must be crystal clear
to Katherine.

Mummy's incorrigible!

She can't just have a party.
She has to have a sensation!

It's that air of helpless ruin.
It is desperately attractive.

He may well be a killer, too,
of course.

That's a bit worrying.

Maybe that's what's attractive.
I don't know.

Oh, God!

She's only gone
and invited him as well!

Oh, Mummy.

Not one to let a tiresome
brutal murder cramp her style.


[Music continues]

[ Insects chirping ]

[Music continues]

Lady Tamplin hasn't changed.

You clearly know each other.

Oh, she ran a sort of hospital
here during the war.

Looked after me when I got
my, um, souvenir of Flanders.

Look, I'm glad to have caught
you on your own, Miss Grey.

I, um...

I wanted to say...


I haven't got the faintest idea

what I wanted to say.

Some sort of half-baked offer
to be of service.

It's very kind of you.

It's perfectly tedious.

I mean,
you're eminently capable.

No, really.

It's very generous of you
to be concerned for me

after this awful thing
has happened.

I appreciate it.

Oh! Oh, God, Major!

Oh, I'm so sorry.

Oh, God.
They're all gone now.

Oh, I told Mr. V
that I don't do silver service.

Mason-- Mason,
I-it's all right.

Now, you've...

you've done us all a favor
chucking this muck on the floor

rather than making us drink it.

It doesn't matter.

Look after Mr. Van Aldin for me.
Much more important.

See if there's anything
he needs.

Off you go.

Have you seen, Major,

that Lady Tamplin has invited
the murderer?

She's a very thoughtful hostess.

La Roche is not the murderer.


How do you, um...

Oh, order and method.

These are the elements
of Poirot.

I, um, I should probably...

[Music continues]

[ Rattling ]

Et enfin, ça commence.

The bell tolls.
But for whom?

- [ Grunts ]
- [ Breathing heavily]

No, no.

Good evening, Mirelle.

How dare you keep that from me!

From me!

[ Birds, insects chirping]

[Opera music playing]

[Bell tolling]

[Vehicle approaches ]

[Engine idling]

[Bell tolling]

VAN ALDIN: Sister Rosalia,
please forgive me.

I know I said 7:00.

That's quite all right.

- Someone took my taxi.
- Yes.

Your representative-- He warned
us you would be a little late.

My representative?

Have you been inside?

Before you, monsieur?

That would be discourteous.

Come and meet my wife.


Dolores Kay.

I can't tell you
how beautiful she was.

How elegant.

She wasn't ever
a very happy woman.

When Ruth was born,

she tried to smuggle her home
to Argentina in a suitcase.

It almost killed the baby.

And you sent her to this place?

Sister Rosalia promised

that if Ruth ever found out
that I lied to her

or ever tried to contact
Dolores, she'd call me.

This is why you flew to Nice.

Your daughter.

She had discovered
that her mother was alive, huh?

And you wanted to dissuade her
from coming here.

Dissuade her, Poirot.
Not slaughter in cold blood.

[ Footsteps approaching ]

Allez, Jeanne.

Viens. Viens.

We don't have scissors, do we?

Please, Sister Dolores.

There's a good girl.

[Bell tolling]

Thank you.

You didn't think
I had her committed here

as an inmate, did you?

Dolores is management.

She's not unhappy here.

She... came to me.

Who came, madame?


A dream.

A dream.
She dreams all day.

She brought me flowers.

The flowers, madame,
certainly you did not dream.

CAUX: Well, what we actually
have is a faceless corpse.

So... all right.

What if... she faked it?

The daughter faked her own death
to punish Papa.

Or to escape her husband.

I don't know.

Then she would be the murderer.

[Woman crying ]

Oh, mademoiselle!


Oh, M. Poirot,
I'm-- I'm so sorry!

I won't go to prison, will I?

Not at all, mademoiselle.
Not at all.

[ Sobs]

Mason thinks
she's remembered something.

I don't think.
I have!

Mlle. Mason,
what is it that you recall?

I saw who it was--
with Madame.

[ Sobs]

This is most important,

You are absolutely certain?


It was him.
It was him, all right.

In the compartment.

It was Mr. Kettering.

That's it.

Find the bastard
and tell him he's arrested.

M. Van Aldin,
if I might have a moment?


God damn it, Poirot!
I've had it with your moments!

We have a witness
who says she saw Kettering

in my daughter's compartment.

I want the son of a bitch
locked up!

[ Door slams]

Got a fag, Poi-rot?

[Vehicles passing,
bell tolling in distance]

Couple of doofers,
if that's all right.

Doofe rs?

Do for later.


Each time we meet,
M. Kettering,

I learn something useful.

Well, get on with it, then.

You may have time to waste,

but I've got
a busy social schedule.

You went to the compartment
of your wife.

Yes, old bean.
I told you that.

To steal the Heart of Fire.


But you've got a head of steam
up, so press on.

The strong box,
it was not forced.

Who knew the combination?

Don't know.
Wasn't one of them.

Non, but you thought you could
extract the code from your wife,

did you not?

But you failed.

Later you returned,

drunk and desperate
to settle your debt to La Roche.

You then compelled your wife,
Ruth, to open the box.

And killed her because?

I feel my motive's getting
a weeny bit congested here.

The theft complete,
you battered your wife to death

because she refused
your sexual advances.

If you actually believe
any of that,

then I can't talk to you.

You can talk to me.

Well, amusingly enough,
you're not entirely wrong.

But it was La Roche
who planned to pinch the Heart.

Spanner in the works with Ruth
pulling up to the station

with that dirty great safe.

He hadn't banked on that.

Had to think again.
[ Chuckles]

Fortunately, there I was.

So he offered me a deal--

the entire debt written off,
like that,

in exchange for the combination.

How could I fail to accept?

I didn't know the code.

I told him to sling his hook.

However, once a chap's got
the habit of counting cards,

he finds patterns in everything.

They imprint themselves
on the brain

whether he wants them to or not.

And lo, there came a point
in the evening

where that pattern
was the only asset I possessed.

CORKY: A 4, a 6, a 9,
an ace, and a 7?

Well and truly bust, old boy.

What were you thinking?

POIROT: But La Roche knew
the combination.

So what went wrong?

Not quite the condition
of erotic preparation

in which he expected to find
my wife.

[ Breathing heavily]

I was...


But he rallied quickly enough.

Pointed out that things
wouldn't look exactly ideal

for either of us,

that we should agree
there and then

neither of us ever left
that compartment.

So, according to La Roche,
he ain't your man.


I'd borrow good money
to see him hanged.

[ Indistinct conversations ]

Mislaid in the compartment
of Mme. Kettering.

May Poirot sit, signora?

He wishes to tell to you
a little story.

I despise fiction.


But this little story,
it is true.

It is about M. Rufus Van Aldin.

A man of authority.

Accustomed to acquiring whatever
he wants whenever he wants it.

But he is not able to secure the
divorce of his daughter, Ruth,

without the evidence
of the adultery

of his son-in-law,
M. Derek Kettering.

Alors, he learns
that his son-in-law

plans to join his daughter,
Ruth, on the Blue Train.

I don't know
any of these people.

And, you know, he does a thing
most extraordinary.

He sends his lover on the train,

to offer herself
to M. Derek Kettering.

Ignite me.

Et quel cauchemar.

The plan, it fails, no?

M. Kettering proves immune
to her powerful charms,

because he has a secret
that nobody else knows.

He loves his wife.

C'est ça.

Why did you enter the
compartment of Mme. Kettering?

That was weakness.

I wanted to see her things.

But while you were in there,
you found and kept

the page of a letter concerning
the wife of M. Van Aldin.

And reading it at dinner,
it, naturally, upset you.

But you resolved to see
the woman for yourself.

I was curious to see
what would be my fate

should I ever marry Rufus.

She was convinced
that I was her daughter.


Color-blind as well as mad.

However, it seemed cruel
to disabuse her.

Her life has been
sufficiently unfortunate.

Well, that was kind.

[ Chuckles ]

I've spent most of my life
being kind, monsieur.

Mostly to men of about your age.

And look where it has got me.

Whoring for no pay.

[ Inhales deeply]


Grossly overrated, I find.

[ Birds, insects chirping]

This is fun.

What, cleaning your teeth?

Having you here.

You should come back when
all this nonsense is sorted out.

[Water runs ]

The police,
Mummy trying to hoodoo you

into believing
she's your best friend

so she can touch you
for a few quid.


She's my mother.
I love her.

I'm allowed to point out
the obvious.

I'm just saying you should
come back at a less hectic time.

Bring your admirer.

Major Knighton.

Oh, come on.

He's this perfectly normal
human being.

And then you come in and he
turns into an absolute sheep,

You must have noticed.

- Lenox.
- What?


LENOX: Actually,
it's bloody hot tonight.

[Hinges squeak]

[ Insects chirping ]

That's better.

[ Screams ]

No! No! No!

No! No! No!


No! No!

[ Screams ]


What's the matter with you?

You can dole it out,
but you can't take it, eh?

From a couple of girls?

Mademoiselle, it is all right.
It is all right.

Sit down. Sit down.
You are safe now.

You are safe.


That was thrilling.

[ Exhales deeply]

[Bell tolling]

I'm so sorry.

It's all right.

There's really--

There's really no need
for me to be lying in bed.

I feel fine.

[ Knock on door]

Come in.


Six sugars.

Absolutely disgusting,
of course.

But it's good for... you know.

Thank you.

And, um...

How lovely.

Monsieur, sorry,
but do you have any idea

why Miss Grey was attacked?

I mean, there's nothing to
connect her and Mrs. Kettering.

Is there?

There is the possibility
most dreadful...

...that the death
of Mme. Kettering

was not what the murderer

You mean he came for me?

Oh, God.

Um, so he didn't know that Ruth
and I had swapped compartments?

It's-- It's a possibility only.

No. It's all right.

I just thought of something.
Shout me down if I'm wrong.

We are assuming the murderer got
off the train with us at Nice,

aren't we?

What's to stop him disappearing
before he got to here?

I don't know.

Dropping off somewhere
in the dark?

Mlle. Grey,
you must excuse me.

Major Knighton, au revoir.

I am become overcautious.

Mlle. Grey, she will explain.

Excuse me.

[ Door closes ]

[ Indistinct conversations ]

Oh, mon Dieu.
I could not understand Paris.

But then Paris did not exist
to be understood.

In the concealment of a crime,
it is a phenomenon most curious

when one fact,
it supports another fact

and neither of them are facts
at all.

S'il vous plait.


You must go to the
Villa Marguerite at once, eh?

[ Paper rips]

C'est très urgent.

Très urgent!

[ Insects chirping ]

The theft of the Heart of Fire.

The murder
of Mme. Ruth Kettering.

The attempted murder
of Mlle. Katherine Grey.

All of this is the work
of an intelligence formidable.

And it moves amongst us now.

Signora Milesi.

You are 40 years of age,

so it is not unreasonable
that you should wish

that M. Rufus Van Aldin
should formalize your relations.

You could yet provide him
with an heir.

Now, look here, God damn it!

S'il vous plait.

This mauvais moment for you all
can only be prolonged

by interruption.

I advise against it.

And yet he makes no move
to do so,

because he already has
an heiress--

his daughter,

to whom he is devoted
most extravagantly.

I think we can agree
I'm not short on motive.

Or opportunity.

By your own admission,

you entered the compartment
of Mme. Ruth Kettering,

and rifled through
her possessions.

Oh, you had the desire, signora,
and the passion nécessaire,

to commit a crime
of such atrocity.

Et ça, c'est la vérité.

Nevertheless, I did not do it.

Finished with the lady, Poirot?

Feel like picking on someone
your own size?


The conduct of your daughter,

It humiliates you, huh?

Her marriage catastrophique.

Her liaison ridiculous
with La Roche.

How simple it would have been

for you to board the train
in Paris

to mete out punishment
to your daughter,

so that the two women in your
life who had let you down,

your wife and your child,
should never be reunited.

And then to steal
the Heart of Fire,

for you are the one man on earth

to whom its value means
completely nothing.

And then what?

To simply throw it
out of the window,

to disguise your crime that was
most barbarous as mere thievery.

KETTERING: Will you please
stop buggering about

and just say which one of us
is the bad egg?

For God's sake, man,
we all know it was me.

Then how did you manage
to attack me?

You were locked up.

It wasn't you,
and we know it wasn't you.

So will you stop showing off

and let M. Poirot finish
what he has to say?

My turn.

Forgive me, Mademoiselle Grey.

You told to Poirot

the story most tragic
of your childhood, huh?

And of the man
whose empire most evil

trampled into the grave your
father-- M. Rufus Van Aldin.

But you can never make him know

the agony of the loss
that you have known,

because he has no father.

But he has a daughter.

That's enough, monsieur.

We appreciate the democratic
nature of the exercise.

We all get a pasting.

But Miss Grey
clearly didn't attack herself,

and I think you should desist.


The gallant Major Knighton,
whose loyalty knows no bounds.

Not strictly true, monsieur.

I'm not really in the business

of slaughtering
my employer's offspring.

On anybody's orders.

You know, on the principle
that the least likely suspect

is most probably guilty,
your stock is high.

He was at the hotel in Paris.


But of course.

You know,
even the memory of Poirot,

it needs refreshing.

Lady Tamplin.

Our consummate hostess.

Alas for you that you are
embarrassed financially.

How dare you?

Is it possible that you
dispatched the wrong woman?

What are you driveling about?

Surely you meant to kill
Mlle. Katherine Grey.

Well, should she die

before her return to England
to make her will,

you would be the rightful
inheritor of the estate.

Rot! And bloody cheeky,
if you don't mind my saying so.

And, Mademoiselle Lenox,
instructed by your mother

to make the great friendship
with Mlle. Grey.

We're broke.

And yet you travel in the
Pullman car of the Blue Train.

The bill for that is on my desk.

I can't pay it.

Royally buggered.

But I was planning to touch her
for a check, monsieur,

not murder her
for her inheritance.

Does this make things awkward
between us?

Oh, no, not at all.

Oh, I am glad.

You're really rather fun.

I wouldn't want you to feel
you couldn't come again.

[ Laughter]

A suffit!

Please don't.

Monsieur Corky,
would you tell to Poirot...

how this came to be
in your possession?

[ Gasps ]

I skipped off the train
for a fresh bowl.

I was just about to get back on,
when, blow me, there it was,

just sitting there on the rail,
all sparkly.

I mean, if the train
had gone off again,

it would have been smashed
to pieces.

So I, uh...
I reached down and I got it.

And you gave it to me?

I thought it was lovely.

I thought you'd like it.
You-- You did like it.

But, darling...

Even you, in your indestructible

must have wondered
what it was doing there.


You didn't ask yourself?

Oh, Corky, I do love you,
but you are hopeless.

It's a fake.

I can smell a phony
through a brick wall.

This isn't the Heart of Fire.

It's a COPY-


The replica.

Enfin, Monsieur le Comte.

The long game, huh?

It was to relieve Mme. Kettering
of her jewel, no?

You would make the substitution,

and by the time it was
discovered, you would be gone.

I absolutely must protest.

Well, of course, that is
your prerogative, monsieur.

But far better
for Poirot to expose you

as a thief and charlatan
than as a murderer.

Do not speak.

Let Poirot tell.

Vraiment, it is simpler.

Having successfully extracted

the combination of the
strong box from M. Kettering,

you hastened to the compartment
of his wife,

taking the champagne.

You fled the compartment

to dictate your alibi
to M. Kettering,

pausing only to rid yourself
of the incriminating forgery.

Nevertheless, the true
Heart of Fire, it was gone.

Alors, messieurs et dames,

what had truly taken place
in that compartment?

Let us address ourselves
to the elements of this case

that are not human,
for they cannot dissemble.

The broken mirror, par exemple.

- It was beneath the dinner tray.
- MAN: Miss Van Aldin?

The dinner tray, therefore, must
have entered the compartment

after the murder.

But then,
who ordered the dinner tray?

Not Ruth Kettering,

but someone pretending
to be her,

behind whom Ruth
already lay dead

and faceless on the floor.

Oh, we see those around us.

And we think we know them.

But we know nothing at all.

Oh, my God!

Bloody hell! I don't have to
put up with being manhandled!

Poirot, he marveled
at the strength and audacity

of this thief and murderer.

Of any adversary
Poirot had ever known,

oh, this killer was twice
the man.

But do you know,
Poirot did not realize

how literally this was true.

For, mes amis, this murderer is
not one person, but two persons,

working together,
sharing the same passion,

the same sickness.

I talk, of course, of Ada Mason.

But also... of the man
who is her lover.

And this man,
he thinks he can escape Poirot.

Not so.

For he made one little mistake

from which emanated
a myriad of others.

He fell in love.

And for his partner,
this was unendurable,

for jealousy,
as it so often does,

throws open the door to murder.

[ Screams ]

No! No! No!

[ Screams ]

POIROT: And then the affair
of the Heart of Fire,

it began to unravel.

Poirot discovered
a newspaper cutting.

It reported of a jewel theft

that took place
shortly after the Great War.

[ Glass shatters, women gasp ]

That hurt you, did it not,
Major Knighton? And why?

Because after you left
the hospital,

at the Villa Marguerite,
in 1918,

taking the jewels
of Lady Tamplin with you--

for this was the first theft
in your career--

your leg,
it was completely healed.

But this you told to no one.

Because then, as now,

the misplaced sympathy and trust
of others, it delights you.

And so you charm your way

to sit at the right hand
of M. Rufus Van Aldin.

You employ your partner
to become maid to his daughter,

et voilé.

The target, it is surrounded.

As the train,
it traveled slowly around Paris,

you climbed aboard.

Mason admitted you
to the compartment.

Who is it?

Me, madam.

Just a minute.

She had the combination.

She could have taken the jewel
at any time.

But what you craved,
both of you,

was the savagery of murder,
for it aroused you.

[ Gasps, screams ]

POIROT: And even
when Mme. Kettering was dead,

the violence, it did not end.

You, Knighton, destroyed
the face of the poor woman,

so that doubt should be cast
on her identity.

And then somewhere
in the darkness,

you dropped from the train.

In your pocket
was the Heart of Fire.

As the train approached
the Gare de Lyon,

the steward knocked
at the compartment door,

and it was opened.

Would Mme. Kettering be dining?

Non. She would prefer
the dinner tray.

And for the maid, nothing.

She would be putting her off
at the next stop.

Your disguise, Ada Mason,
it was good.

And even Poirot,
until he compared the hair

of the woman who was murdered
with the hair torn from the wig,

even Poirot, he was deceived.

For, although you made certain
I observed you

at the Gare de Lyons,
you did not leave the train.

You reboarded it.

You did not leave
until Marseilles.

You stayed on board thus far
to receive the dinner tray

in the guise of your employer.

But now there was
sufficient distance

from the time and place
of the murder.

You could leave the corpse
to be discovered.


The night in question, Ada Mason
stays at the George V Hotel.

Who says so?

Major Knighton.

But neither of you were there,

because you were here,
on the Blue Train

murdering Madame Ruth Kettering.

Were you not?

Monsieur Poirot.

He has something at my throat.

A razor blade, I think.

We're leaving now.

Let them go.
Let them go.


Please don't let him kill me.


No closer!

[ Breathing heavily]

Shall you forgive me?


[ Screaming ]


Kill her!

- KATHERINE: [Gasps]
- MASON: Kill her!


[ Sobs]

[ Insects chirping ]

[Train whistle blows]

[ Men shouting,
train approaching ]

A tight spot, Katherine.

[ Gasps ]

[ Rattling ]

But I've known worse.




Let her go.

The greatest jewel thief
in living memory, by all means.

But do not be the mere lunatic.

Sharper than a diamond,

Redder than blood.

[Train approaching]

[ Screams ]

[ Sobs]

[ Birds, insects chirping]

M. Poirot.

Mlle. Grey.

Oh, do you leave the Riviera?

I think it's probably time.

When do you depart?

The train doesn't go
until this afternoon.

Et bien.

Immédiatement, Poirot will go

and pack his meager possessions
and join you.

Actually, I'm not planning
to go back to London just yet.

It's peculiar, really, given
everything that's happened,

but I've discovered
I rather like travel.

So I'm going to keep going
a bit.

Oh, but of course.

I'm going to go to Vienna.

I'm picking up
the Orient Express.

The idea thrills me.

But I expect you've been on it
millions of times.

Not once.

But I must.

You've been so very kind to me,

You're a very dear man.

A first-class avuncular.

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