Albert Finney: Hercule Poirot

Murder on the Orient Express

Hercule Poirot

Beddoes: Oh, yes, sir, the Italian person.
Hercule Poirot: Eh, does he speak English?
Beddoes: A kind of English, sir. I think he learnt it in a place called Chicago.

Hercule Poirot: Cassetti was responsible for her murder. How does that strike you?
Beddoes: I have often felt, sir, that instead of our employers requiring references from us, we should require references from them.

Countess Andrenyi: As is my custom on night trains, I took trional.
[Poirot makes a noise and looks at the doctor]
Dr. Constantine: Diethylsulphone dimethyl methane. One dilutes the white crystals with water. It is a strong hypnotic.
Countess Andrenyi: Ha, ha! He makes it sound like a poison!
Dr. Constantine: As with most sleeping drugs, if taken in sufficient quantities it IS a poison.
Count Andrenyi: [jumping up] You are not-!
Hercule Poirot: Ah, you are not *accused*... you are *ex*-cused! Thank you both for your help and cooperation.

Hercule Poirot: Bianchi, Doctor, has it occurred to you that there are too many clu-ues in this room?

Hercule Poirot: Ladies and gentlemen, you are all aware that a repulsive murderer has himself been repulsively, and, perhaps deservedly, murdered.

Hercule Poirot: [Bianchi has a visibly nauseated reaction upon seeing the body, and Poirot guides him to the door before things get messy] Ohhhh, if you must go woof-woof, kindly go woof-woof not to windward, but to leeward. Help him, Pierre.

Hercule Poirot: Forgive me, Miss Debenham, I must be brief. You met Colonel Arbuthnott and fell in love with each other in Baghdad. Why must the English conceal even their most impeccable emotions?
Mary Debenham: To answer your observations in order: of course, yes, yes, and I don't know.

Hercule Poirot: Mr. Ratchett, I have made enough money to satisfy both my needs and my caprices. I take only such cases now as interest me, and to be frank, my interest in your case is, uh... dwindling.

Hercule Poirot: If all these people are not implicated in the crime, then why have they all told me, under interrogation, stupid and often unnecessary lies? Why? Why? Why? Why?
Dr. Constantine: Doubtless, Monsieur Poirot, because they did not expect you to be on the train. They had no time to concert their cover story.
Hercule Poirot: I was hoping someone other than myself would say that.

Hercule Poirot: Only by interrogating the other passengers could I hope to see the light, but when I began to question them, the light, as Macbeth would have said, thickened.

A.D.C.: Ah, here's your ticket, Monsieur Poirot. I'm afraid you've still got another hour.
Hercule Poirot: Then, please, do not wait.
A.D.C.: Not wait? Hah. After all you've done for us, Monsieur Poirot? Ha ha. Oh. Uh, my general's orders were to ensure your safe departure. He also wished to thank you again for saving the honour of the British garrison in Jordan. The Brigadier's, uh, confession was opportune. I say, how did you do it? Was it the old, uh, thumbscrew, you know, the rack, huh?... Oh. Well, uh, you'll be able to rest as soon as you get to Stamboul. The, uh, the Church of Santa Sophia is absolutely magnificent.
Hercule Poirot: You have seen it?
A.D.C.: No.

Pierre: The whistle means that help is near, madame.
Mrs. Hubbard: And high time, too.
Hercule Poirot: Time is what counts, Mrs. Hubbard, if we are to complete this inquiry before reaching Brod. I will therefore make my questions as brief as I hope you will make your answers, and the more often you can confine yourself to a simple yes or no, the better.
Mrs. Hubbard: Well, don't waste time yammering. Begin.
Hercule Poirot: Your full name is Harriet Belinda Hubbard.
Mrs. Hubbard: Yes. I was called Harriet after my -...

Hercule Poirot: Tout de même, I must thank the pipe-smoking Colonel Arbuthnott for a remark which finally resolved all my confusions about this, uh, this extraordinary case. I prefer to set aside the fact that he denied ever having spoken to Colonel Armstrong in India, and yet he remembered in great detail the decorations which Colonel Armstrong had won years earlier in France. I prefer to remember his views on the British jury system:
Colonel Arbuthnott: [in a brief flashback] Trial by twelve good men and true... is a sound system.

Dr. Constantine: [referring to Pierre] He had the means to do it. The passkey to Ratchett's room.
Hercule Poirot: And a knife borrowed from the chef.
Bianchi: With whom he was in league.
Hercule Poirot: Which he plunged, repeatedly and without motive, into the body of his suitably astonished victim.

[after the case has been concluded, Bianchi gives Poirot a quick hug in gratitude]
Bianchi: Hercule. I thank you.
Hercule Poirot: My friend. Now I must go and wrestle with my report to the police and with my conscience.

[the sound of a distant train whistle]
Bianchi: I fear that help is at hand. Even if it is only a working party with picks and shovels, we must make haste to complete this inquiry before we reach Brod. If it is an engine with a snowplow, our troubles will really begin.
Dr. Constantine: Who's next?
Hercule Poirot: Mrs. Hubbard.
[Bianchi reacts as if his troubles HAVE already begun]
Bianchi: Oh, my God.

Hercule Poirot: The obvious implication is that the murderer, disguised as a conductor, boarded the train at Belgrade, made his way by means of the convenient passkey to Ratchett's compartment, stabbed him to death, planted the dagger and the uniform, and then departed, since the train was now halted in a snowdrift. Who was he? I am inclined to agree with Mr Foscarelli, who believes that he was a rival member of the Mafia, exacting private vengeance for a vendetta whose precise nature the Yugoslav police will undoubtedly identify.
Dr. Constantine: But... is that all?
Hercule Poirot: No. No, no, no, no. No, it is not. I said, here is the simple answer. There is also a more... complex one. But remember my first solution when I... when you've heard my second.

Mrs. Hubbard: What's the matter with him? Train-sick or something?
Hercule Poirot: Some of us, in the words of the divine Greta Garbo, want to be alone.