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

by Agatha Christie

As I say, there is no need for Caroline to go out to get information. She sits at home and it comes to her.

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. They were always seen about together, and it was freely conjectured that at the end of her period of mourning, Mrs. Ferrars would become Mrs. Roger Ackroyd. It was felt, indeed, that there was a certain fitness in the thing.

He sounded very angry. ‘My dear girl,’ he said. ‘Don’t you realize that it is quite on the cards the old man will cut me off with a shilling? He’s been pretty fed up with me for the last few years.

The truth, however ugly in itself, is always curious and beautiful to the seeker after it.

Women observe subconsciously a thousand little details, without knowing that they are doing so. Their subconscious mind adds these little things together—and they call the result intuition. Me, I am very skilled in psychology. I know these things.”

Fortunately words, ingeniously used, will serve to mask the ugliness of naked facts.