I know of a well-known anecdote which goes to the effect that a young writer decides to start his story with a style and color, in order to arouse those who are tired of reading. The attention of the editors of articles such as dogs and horses, they wrote the following sentence: "'Damn it!' said the Duchess." Oddly enough, my story begins in the same form.Only the lady who said it was not a duchess. It was the beginning of June, and I was returning to London by the morning train after finishing some business in Paris.In London I still share a room with my old friend, former Belgian detective Hercule Poirot.

The express train bound for Calais was surprisingly empty.There was actually only one other passenger in the car I was traveling in.I was in a hurry when I left the hotel.Just as I was busy checking whether my luggage was complete, the train started to move.Before that, I had hardly paid attention to my traveling companion, but now I suddenly remembered that there was another person in the same compartment.She jumped up from the seat, lowered the car window, poked her head out, then retracted her head after a while, and shouted short but hard: "Damn it!" I'm a stuffy guy.I think a woman has to look like a woman, the kind of neurotic girl nowadays, dancing jazz from morning to night, with a cigarette in her mouth like a chimney, using a language even Billingsgate ②Women in the fishing market will also feel annoyed when they hear this.I can't get used to this kind of person.

I frowned slightly, and looked up to see a handsome, self-willed face with a small red hat on it.Thick black curly hair covers the ears. I estimate she was no more than seventeen years old.But her face was powdered, and her lips were as red as red. She was not at all embarrassed, but instead looked back at me and made an expressive face. "Oh, we've frightened the good gentleman!" she pretended to the imaginary audience. "I'm sorry I was rude and unladylike, and so on. But, oh, God, there's a reason for it! Did you know my only sister is gone?" "Really?" I said politely. "How unfortunate!"

"He doesn't like it!" said the girl to herself. "He... not only doesn't like me at all, but also my sister... It's not fair, because he hasn't even seen her in person yet!" I just opened my mouth, but she said first, "Stop! No one loves me! I went to the garden to find bugs to eat.Woohoo.I'm done now!" She hid herself behind a French comic newspaper.After a while I saw her eyes peeking at me furtively over the top of the newspaper.I couldn't help but smile slightly.She threw the newspaper aside at once, and laughed heartily. "I know you're not some stupid looking fool," she yelled.Her laugh was contagious, and I couldn't help laughing too, despite my disdain for the word "fool."

"Hey! We're friends now," said the girl. "You have to say you feel sorry for my sister..." "I'm so deserted!" "That's a good boy!" "Let me finish. I was going to add that although I'm so lonely, I can bear her absence." I saluted slightly. But the most unpredictable girl frowned and shook her head. "Don't talk! I'd rather see you in that 'smug look.' Well, look at your face! It's like saying, 'That's not our type'. You guessed it." Yes. Be careful though, it's hard to tell right now. Not everyone can tell which is a duchess and which is a fake duchess. Look, I think I've scare you again! You're an old man , it's true, but I don't care.

We can afford a few more people like you.I hate that brazen person.It just drives me nuts. " She shook her head vigorously. "What do you look like when you're crazy?" I asked with a smile. "A real little devil! Never mind what I say and how I do it! I almost got a guy tricked once. I really did. He deserved it." "Well," I begged, "don't be angry with me." "I'm not going to be angry with you. I liked you the moment I saw you. But I don't think we'll ever be friends with such a distasteful face of yours." "Well, we've made friends. Tell me about yourself."

"I'm an actor, no...not what you think. I've been doing somersaults on boards since I was a little girl of six." "Excuse me," I said, bewildered. "Have you never seen a little juggler?" "Ah, I see!" "I was born in America, but I've lived most of my life in England. Now we have a new play..." "us……?" "My sister and I. Singing and dancing, and a jingle, plus some old stuff, new and unique, every performance is a success. There's a lot of money to be made here..." My new acquaintance was leaning forward and talking incessantly, many of her expressions were simply incomprehensible to me.But I found myself becoming more and more interested in her.

．She looked like a child and a grown woman, incomprehensible.Although, as she says, she is eloquent, competent, and self-sufficient, there is an indescribable candor in her single-minded approach to life, in her single-minded determination to "make it big" smell. The train passed Amiens, and the name of this place brought back many memories for me.My companion seemed to sense intuitively what was on my mind. "Think about the war?" I nod. "I think you've made it through?" "It's all right. I got wounded once. After the Battle of Som they simply dismissed me as a cripple. Now I'm working as a member's private secretary or something."

"Oh! That's brain work!" "No, it's not. Actually, there's not much work to do. It usually takes two hours a day, and it's boring. Honestly, I don't know what to do if I don't have something else to pin on." How to do it." "Didn't you say you were collecting insects in your spare time?" "No. I'm sharing a room with a very interesting man. He's Belgian, a detective. He's settled in London, and he's doing a very good job as a private eye. He's a great little guy. Proven many times." He's always right about things that the official police can't fix."

My traveling companion listened with wide eyes. "It's funny, isn't it? I love crime stories. I've got to see detective movies whenever there's a detective movie in it. If there's a murder in the paper, I'll eat the paper." "Do you remember the Stiles case?" "I'll think about it. Was it the case where an old lady was poisoned? Somewhere in Essex?" I nod. "It was Poirot's first serious case. There is no doubt that if it hadn't been for him the murderer would have been at large. It was a remarkable piece of detective work."

The subject aroused my enthusiasm, and I went through the case from beginning to end, to an unexpected and triumphant conclusion.The girl was fascinated.To tell the truth, we were so engaged in talking that we didn't even know the train was coming into Calais.I found two porters and we walked down to the platform.My traveling companion held out her hand. "Good-bye. I will take better care of my luggage in the future." "Well, but you must let me take care of you aboard?" "Perhaps I won't get on the boat. I'll have to see if my sister got on the train somewhere. Anyway, thank you." "Well, but we have to meet again? Don't you even tell me your name?" I called out as she turned away. She looked over her shoulder. "Cinderella⑦." She said with a smile. But at that time, I rarely thought about when and under what circumstances I would see Cinderella again. Note: ① Port city in northern France. ②A fish market in London, the people there are not well educated and speak vulgarly. ③Northern France, on the Somme River, where there were battles during the First World War. ④The name of the river, in France, flows westward to Amiens, and flows northwest through Abbeville into the English Channel. ⑤ Refers to Agatha Christie's debut novel, The Mysterious Affairs at Styles, published in 1920. ⑥ county name.in the southeast of England. ⑦ A character in a fairy tale, a beautiful girl who is driven by her stepmother and spends her days with cinders; then she suddenly gets help from a fairy aunt and becomes the lover of the prince.