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0阿加莎·克里斯蒂和东方列车~
片头
英文介绍
Two days ago, we had a book club event at Miyunguan, a mystery bookstore, and read a few pages from Murder on the Orient Express.
It was exciting to meet other Agatha Christie readers and talk about her books.
Now I’d like to read the part where Hercule Poirot is approached by Ratchett, the wealthy businessman.
中文介绍
两天前，我们在侦探推理书店谜芸馆举办了一次读书会，读了《东方快车谋杀案》中的一些段落。
能遇到其他阿加莎·克里斯蒂的读者并一起讨论她的作品，真的很令人兴奋。
现在，我想朗读富商雷切特找上大侦探波洛的那一段：
英文朗读
“Can you oblige me with a light?” he said. His voice was soft—faintly nasal. “My name is Ratchett.”
Poirot bowed slightly. He slipped his hand into his pocket and produced a matchbox which he handed to the other man, who took it but did not strike a light.
“I think,” he went on, “that I have the pleasure of speaking to Mr. Hercule Poirot. Is that so?”
Poirot bowed again. “You have been correctly informed, Monsieur.”
The detective was conscious of those strange shrewd eyes summing him up before the other spoke again.
“In my country,” he said, “we come to the point quickly. Mr. Poirot, I want you to take on a job for me.”
Hercule Poirot’s eyebrows went up a trifle.
“My clientèle, Monsieur, is limited nowadays. I undertake very few cases.”
“Why, naturally, I understand that. But this, Mr. Poirot, means big money.” He repeated again in his soft, persuasive voice, “Big money.”
Hercule Poirot was silent a minute or two. Then he said: “What is it you wish me to do for you, Monsieur—er—Ratchett?”
“Mr. Poirot, I am a rich man—a very rich man. Men in that position have enemies. I have an enemy.”
“Only one enemy?”
“Just what do you mean by that question?” asked Ratchett sharply.
“Monsieur, in my experience when a man is in a position to have, as you say, enemies, then it does not usually resolve itself into one enemy only.”
Ratchett seemed relieved by—Poirot’s answer. He said quickly:
“Why, yes, I appreciate that point. Enemy or enemies—it doesn’t matter. What does matter is my safety.”
“Safety?”
“My life has been threatened, Mr. Poirot. Now I’m a man who can take pretty good care of himself.” From the pocket of his coat his hand brought a small automatic into sight for a moment. He continued grimly. “I don’t think I’m the kind of man to be caught napping. But, as I look at it, I might as well make assurance doubly sure. I fancy you’re the man for my money, Mr. Poirot. And remember—big money.”
Poirot looked at him thoughtfully for some minutes. His face was completely expressionless. The other could have had no clue as to what thoughts were passing in that mind.
“I regret, Monsieur,” he said at length, “that I cannot oblige you.”
The other looked at him shrewdly. “Name your figure, then,” he said.
Poirot shook his head.
‘You do not understand, Monsieur. I have been very fortunate in my profession. I have made enough money to satisfy both my needs and my caprices. I have now only such cases as – interest me. ’
