The Murder of Roger Ackroyd (Hercule Poirot, #4)

by Agatha Christie

An overmastering impulse drove her on to get rid of her husband because she was the sort of person who simply can’t endure suffering of any kind, and there’s no doubt that the wife of a man like Ashley Ferrars must have had to suffer a good deal –”

Now that she has gone where (presumably) Paris frocks can no longer be worn, Caroline is prepared to indulge in the softer emotions of pity and comprehension.

we are rich in unmarried ladies

like church

Our hobbies and recreations can be summed up in the one word, “gossip”.

That earnest tete-à-tete between Ralph Paton and Mrs Ferrars the day before struck me disagreeably.

Ralph in London? But he had certainly been in King’s Abbot the preceding afternoon.

He had spoken as though Ralph had not been near the place for months.

“Suppose you are really a slave of the drug habit, is there any cure?”

asked me if it was true that there were certain poisons so rare as to baffle detection.

why is he staying at the Three Boars instead of at Fernly Park?”

the old man will cut me off

I don’t want him to go altering his will. You leave it to me, and don’t worry.”

“Yes—I’ve got to play a lone hand …”

I noticed, just as I was turning the handle, a sound from within—the shutting down of a window, I took it to be.

I received a vague impression that my dining there displeased her in some way, but I couldn’t imagine why.

the windows were long french ones opening on the terrace. The sound I had heard, therefore, could not have been that of a window being shut down.

At once I recognized the sound I had heard. It was this same table lid being shut down gently and carefully.

“Did you ever suspect—did it ever enter your head—that—well, that he might have been poisoned?”

Roger Ackroyd was not Caroline.

“He was poisoned,” said Ackroyd.

“She told me so herself.”

“All this evening I’ve had a queer feeling of being watched, spied upon.

We both had the impression of hearing the latch of the door give ever so slightly.

I was startled by seeing the figure of Parker close at hand. He looked embarrassed, and it occurred to me that he might have been listening at the door.

“This the way to Fernly Park, mister?” asked the stranger in a hoarse voice.

The odd thing was that his voice reminded me of someone’s voice that I knew, but whose it was I could not think.

“Parker telephoning,”

They’ve just found Roger Ackroyd murdered.”

“The master? Murdered? Impossible, sir!”

?

“There seems nothing missing,

The letter?...

I was bringing a tray with soda and whisky when Miss Flora, who was just coming out of this room, stopped me and said her uncle didn’t want to be disturbed.”

It was the secretary who answered.

“In the silver table in the drawing-room.”

Oh!

Raymond answered for me.

as I came out of the billiard room with Raymond, the latter gave a low chuckle of amusement.

How is he lughing??...

Then, with a grin, he handed them to the police inspector.

V suss behaviour

Even the brutal murder of his friend and employer could not dim Geoffrey Raymond’s spirits

“Fiddlesticks!

Lol

“Then why did you go to the Three Boars last night?” demanded Flora. “On your way home—after Uncle’s body was found?”

he went out at about nine o’clock yesterday evening—and—and never came back.”

“Leaving his luggage behind?”

large numbers of murderers have had nice manners,

“Dr Sheppard had better tell you,” said Flora. “He knows more than I do.”

uncle’s

Thought it was his stepdad?

another man whom, from Flora’s description of “weaselly’, I had no difficulty in recognizing as Inspector Raglan from Cranchester.

Lol

“No—not while we’re in all this trouble.

utterly absurd to think he could have done it.

This theory was received in polite silence.

Lol

not a penny we could call our own,

Flora resented it—yes, I must say she resented it—very strongly.