Roger Ackroyd

“ Ferrars and Roger Ackroyd was fixed for eleven o’clock. It was a melancholy and impressive ceremony. All the party from Fernly were there.
After it was over, Poirot, who had also been present, took me by the arm, and invited me to accompany him back to The Larches. He was looking very grave, and I feared that my indiscretion of the night before had got round to his ears. But it soon transpired that his thoughts were occupied by something of a totally different nature.
“See you,” he said. “We must act. With your help I propose to examine a witness. ”

“ Ursula, steadfast in her purpose, sought an interview with Roger Ackroyd that very afternoon, and revealed the truth to him. Their interview was a stormy one—it might have been even more stormy had not Roger Ackroyd been already obsessed with his own troubles. It was bad enough, however. Ackroyd was not the kind of man to forgive the deceit that had been practiced upon him. His rancor was mainly directed to Ralph, but Ursula came in for her share, since he regarded her as a girl who had deliberately tried to "entrap" the adopted son of a very wealthy man. ”

“ Now Ackroyd is essentially pig-headed. The more you urge him to do a thing, the more determined he is not to do it. All my arguments were in vain.
The letter had been brought in at twenty minutes to nine. It was just on ten minutes to nine when I left him, the letter still unread. I hesitated with my hand on the door handle, looking back and wondering if there was anything I had left undone. I could think of nothing. With a shake of the head I passed out and closed the door behind me.
I was startled by seeing the figure of Parker close at hand. ”

“ Ackroyd has always regarded him as his own son, and has brought him up accordingly, but he has been a wild lad and a continual source of worry and trouble to his stepfather. Nevertheless we are all very fond of Ralph Paton in King’s Abbot. He is such a good-looking youngster for one thing.
As I said before, we are ready enough to gossip in our village. Everybody noticed from the first that Ackroyd and Mrs. Ferrars got on very well together. After her husband’s death, the intimacy became more marked. ”

“ She says the first thing that comes into her head, a repetition of Roger Ackroyd’s orders earlier in the evening, and then goes upstairs to her own room.”
“Yes, but later,” persisted the inspector, “she must have realized the vital importance of speaking the truth? Why, the whole case hinges on it!”
“Afterwards,” said Poirot dryly, “it was a little difficult for Mademoiselle Flora. She is told simply that the police are here and that there has been a robbery. Naturally231 she jumps to the conclusion that the theft of the money has been discovered. Her one idea is to stick to her story. ”

“ Ackroyd took me aside and sat down with me on a sofa.
"I can't help feeling a little hurt," she murmured, producing a handkerchief of the kind obviously not meant to be cried into. "Hurt, I mean, by Roger's lack of confidence in me. That twenty thousand pounds ought to have been left to me—not to Flora. A mother could be trusted to safeguard the interests of her child. A lack of trust, I call it."
"You forget, Mrs. Ackroyd," I said, "Flora was Ackroyd's own niece, a blood relation. ”

“ Ackroyd took out a frilled handkerchief, and became tearful.
"I thought, doctor, that you might put it to M. Poirot—explain it, you know—because it's so difficult for a foreigner to see our point of view. And you don't know—nobody could know—what I've had to contend with. A martyrdom—a long martyrdom. That's what my life has been. I don't like to speak ill of the dead—but there it is. Not the smallest bill, but it had all to be gone over—just as though Roger had had a few miserly hundreds a year instead of being (as Mr. Hammond told me yesterday) one of the wealthiest men in these parts." ”

“ Ackroyd, Flora, Major Blunt, young Raymond, Poirot, and myself.
When every one was assembled, Poirot rose and bowed.
"Messieurs, mesdames, I have called you together for a certain purpose." He paused. "To begin with, I want to make a very special plea to mademoiselle."
"To me?" said Flora.
"Mademoiselle, you are engaged to Captain Ralph Paton. If any one is in his confidence, you are. I beg you, most earnestly, if you know of his whereabouts, to persuade him to come forward. One little minute"—as Flora raised her head to speak—"say nothing till you have well reflected. ”

“ It could not have been Ralph Paton who was with Mr. Ackroyd in the study at nine-thirty.
"So we come to another and most interesting aspect of the crime. Who was it in the room with Mr. Ackroyd at nine-thirty? Not Ralph Paton, who was in the summer-house with his wife. Not Charles Kent, who had already left. Who, then? I posed my cleverest—my most audacious question: Was any one with him?"
Poirot leaned forward and shot the last words triumphantly at us, drawing back afterwards with the air of one who has made a decided hit. ”

“ Ackroyd sighed—a tribute to her mother’s heart, whilst her eyes remained shrewdly observant of me.
“I was wondering. You are such an old friend of dear Roger’s. We know how much he trusts to your judgment. So difficult for me—in my position, as poor Cecil’s widow. But there are so many tiresome things—settlements, you know—all that. I fully believe that Roger intends to make settlements upon dear Flora, but, as you know, he is just a leetle peculiar about money. Very usual, I’ve heard, amongst men who are captains of industry. ”

“ I interrupted, with modest pride."
"Who told you?"
"Our new neighbor."
Caroline visibly wavered for a second or two, much as a roulette ball might coyly hover between two numbers. Then she declined the tempting red herring.
"I told Mr. Ackroyd that Ralph was staying at the Three Boars."
"Caroline," I said, "do you never reflect that you might do a lot of harm with this habit of yours of repeating everything indiscriminately?"
"Nonsense," said my sister. "People ought to know things. I consider it my duty to tell them. Mr. Ackroyd was very grateful to me." ”

“ Ackroyd paused, and I said, "Quite so." I was beginning to have a glimmering of what all the trouble was about.
"No one can say that I have failed in my duty," continued Mrs. Ackroyd. "I am sure Inspector Raglan is perfectly satisfied. Why should this little upstart of a foreigner make a fuss? A most ridiculous-looking creature he is too—just like a comic Frenchman in a revue. I can't think why Flora insisted on bringing him into the case. She never said a word to me about it. Just went off and did it on her own. Flora is too independent. I am a woman of the world and her mother. ”

“ I said.
“Good. I need also all those in the house—that is to say: Mrs. Ackroyd, Mademoiselle Flora, Major Blunt, M. Raymond. I want you to be my ambassador. This little reunion is fixed for nine o’clock. You will ask them—yes?”
“With pleasure; but why not ask them yourself?”
“Because they will then put the questions: Why? What for? They will demand what my idea is. And, as you know, my friend, I much dislike to have to explain my little ideas until the time comes.” ”

“ Not for a moment that I think dear Ralph had anything to do with poor Roger’s death. I don’t think so. But then I have a trusting heart—I always have had, ever since a child. I am loath to believe the worst of any one. But, of course, one must remember that Ralph was in several air raids as a young boy. The results are apparent long after, sometimes, they say. People are not responsible for their actions in the least. They lose control, you know, without being able to help it.”
“Mother,” cried Flora, “you don’t think Ralph did it?”
“Come, Mrs. Ackroyd,” said Blunt. ”

“ Flora laughed.
"I remember Mélisande," continued Blunt, "married an old chap old enough to be her father."
He threw a small piece of flint into the goldfish pond. Then, with a change of manner, he turned to Flora.
"Miss Ackroyd, can I do anything? About Paton, I mean. I know how dreadfully anxious you must be."
"Thank you," said Flora in a cold voice. "There is really nothing to be done. Ralph will be all right. I've got hold of the most wonderful detective in the world, and he's going to find out all about it." ”

“ Ackroyd gave a little scream, and I realized that I had not been sufficiently diplomatic.
"How dreadful it sounds. But it wasn't at all like that really."
"Of course it wasn't," I said hastily. "You must forgive my unfortunate way of putting things."
"You see, men are so peculiar. In dear Roger's place, I should not have objected to revealing the provisions of my will. But men are so secretive. One is forced to adopt little subterfuges in self-defence." ”

“ That of Colonel Carter: that Ralph was secretly married to Flora. The first or most simple solution.
2. That of Miss Ganett: that Roger Ackroyd had been secretly married to Mrs. Ferrars.
3. That of my sister: that Roger Ackroyd had married his housekeeper, Miss Russell.
201
A fourth or super-theory was propounded by Caroline later as we went up to bed.
“Mark my words,” she said suddenly, “I shouldn’t be at all surprised if Geoffrey Raymond and Flora weren’t married.”
“Surely it would be ‘From G,’ not ‘From R’ then,” I suggested.
“You never know. Some girls call men by their surnames. ”

“ How's that?"
"There's only one thing against it," I said slowly. "If Ackroyd went on reading that letter as soon as I left, as he intended to do, I don't see him continuing to sit on here and turn things over in his mind for another hour. He'd have had Parker in at once, accused him then and there, and there would have been a fine old uproar. Remember, Ackroyd was a man of choleric temper."
"Mightn't have had time to go on with the letter just then," suggested the inspector. ”

“ She stared at Ursula as though she had never seen her before.
“Married to Bourne?” she said. “Really, M. Poirot, I don’t believe you.”
Ursula flushed and began to speak, but Flora forestalled her.
Going quickly to the other girl’s side, she passed her hand through her arm.
“You must not mind our being surprised,” she said. “You see, we had no idea of such a thing. You and Ralph have kept your secret very well. I am—very glad about it.”
“You are very kind, Miss Ackroyd,” said Ursula in a low voice, “and you have every right to be exceedingly angry. Ralph behaved very badly—especially to you.” ”

“ It’s no good interrupting. I dare say you hadn’t the least idea she was doing it even. Men are so simple. She knows that you are in M. Poirot’s confidence, and she wants to find out things. Do you know what I think, James?”
“I couldn’t begin to imagine. You think so many extraordinary things.”
“It’s no good being sarcastic. I think Miss Russell knows more about Mr. Ackroyd’s death than she is prepared to admit.”
Caroline leaned back triumphantly in her chair.
“Do you really think so?” I said absently.
“You are very dull to-day, James. No animation about you. It’s that liver of yours.” ”

“ Mr. Ackroyd was speaking. 'The calls on my purse have been so frequent of late'—that is what he was saying—'of late, that I fear it is impossible for me to accede to your request. . . .' I went away again at once, of course, so did not hear any more. But I rather wondered because Dr. Sheppard———?
"———Does not ask for loans for himself or subscriptions for others," I finished.
"A demand for money," said the inspector musingly. "It may be that here we have a very important clew." He turned to the butler. "You say, Parker, that nobody was admitted by the front door this evening?" ”

“ The Ferrars only came to live here just over a year ago, but a halo of gossip has surrounded Ackroyd for many years past. All the time that Ralph Paton was growing up to manhood, a series of lady housekeepers presided over Ackroyd’s establishment, and each in turn was regarded with lively suspicion by Caroline and her cronies. It is not too much to say that for at least fifteen years the whole village has confidently expected Ackroyd to marry one of his housekeepers. ”

“ Ackroyd, who was sipping an early cup of tea. She received me very graciously.
"So grateful to you, doctor," she murmured, "for clearing up that little matter with M. Poirot. But life is one trouble after another. You have heard about Flora, of course?"
"What exactly?" I asked cautiously.
"This new engagement. Flora and Hector Blunt. Of course not such a good match as Ralph would have been. But after all, happiness comes first. What dear Flora needs is an older man—some one steady and reliable, and then Hector is really a very distinguished man in his way. ”

“ But don’t you think you’re being rather precipitate? Wait a day or two.”
“To-morrow,” said Flora, in a clear voice. “It’s no good, mother, going on like this. Whatever else I am, I’m not disloyal to my friends.”
“M. Poirot,” Mrs. Ackroyd appealed tearfully, “can’t you say anything at all?”
“Nothing to be said,” interpolated Blunt. “She’s doing the right thing. I’ll stand by her through thick and thin.”
Flora held out her hand to him.
154
“Thank you, Major Blunt,” she said.
“Mademoiselle,” said Poirot, “will you let an old man congratulate you on your courage and your loyalty? ”

“ A person who was at the Three Boars earlier that day, a person who knew Ackroyd well enough to know that he had purchased a dictaphone, a person who was of a mechanical turn of mind, who had the opportunity to take the dagger from the silver table before Miss Flora arrived, who had with him a receptacle suitable for hiding the dictaphone—such as a black bag, and who had the study to himself for a few minutes after the crime was discovered while Parker was telephoning for the police. ”