I am out of breath and looking over my shoulder, as usual, as I try to mingle
with the crowd here at the Gare de l'Est.
Does my veil look too obvious?
x
The Count, my Uncle Vanya, roused me at an early hour,
opened the back gate of the Chateau Bonaparte, where I've
been held a virtual prisoner, thrust the Faberge Egg into my
trembling hands, told me to guard it with my life, kissed me
on both cheeks, and sent me on to The Orient Express,
where I will be guided by this little man, Mssr. something
or other, to my final destination, Istanbul.
x
My passport photo shows me as a simple
young woman, nothing, not a trace of my
past shows on my face. The name, of course,
is nothing like Anastasia. Just simple Greta,
a poor student from Paris.
X
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxTHE EGGX
BOARDING AT THE STATION
BOARDING AT THE STATION
IS QUITE THRILLING,so much
hustle and bustle. A funny little
man is squinting at me. Could
that be Mssr. what's his name?
x
A huge coffin shaped box is being
hauled aboard the train. Could it be
a coffin? There is an odd insignia stamped
on top. Also metal bands encircle it.
As if anyone would try to get in or out!
x
At last in my room, I remove my veil, and
hardly recognise myself, red wig, red lips.
I unpack my blue velvet frock, I think just
right for lunch. I reach for my pearls, but no!
I am but a simple student!
x
A very handsome gentleman shares
my luncheon table. The bright, white
tablecloth casts a clear light on his face.
He introduces himself, "Bond, James
Bond. Something about you stirs me.
Why are your hands shaking?"
I want so much to trust this stranger. Dare I?
x
Again the funny little man is sitting opposite me. Aha,
the waiter calls him Mssr. Poirot. I do believe he is the
one Uncle Vanya told me about.
x
My word, what is that commotion at the end of the
dining room? Shouting, pushing..I must run..but
I am now alone in the baggage car...why did
I come this way...and that box, that coffin
in the shadows, can that be a tapping
I hear from within?
x
Of course not.
