The Murder of Roger Ackroyd / Убийство Роджера Экройда

A man from Cranchester turned up this morning – inspector Raglan, a horrid, weaselly little man. I found he had been to the Three Boars this morning before me. They told me all about his having been there, and the questions he had asked. he must think Ralph did it.’

‘That’s a change of mind from last night, if so,’ I said slowly. ‘He doesn’t believe in Davis’s theory that it was Parker then?’

‘Parker indeed,’ said my sister, and snorted.

Flora came forward and laid her hand on my arm.

‘Oh! dr Sheppard, let us go at once to this M.

‘My dear Flora,’ I said gently, laying my hand on hers. ‘Are you quite sure it is the truth we want?’

She looked at me, nodding her head gravely.

‘You’re not sure,’ she said. ‘I am. I know Ralph better than you do.’

‘Of course he didn’t do it,’ said Caroline, who had been keeping silent with great difficulty. ‘ralph may be extravagant, but he’s a dear boy, and has the nicest manners.’

I wanted to tell Caroline that large numbers of murderers have had nice manners, but the presence of flora restrained me.

An old woman with an immense Breton cap opened the door of The Larches to us. M. Poirot was at home, it seemed.

We were ushered into a little sitting-room arranged with formal precision, and there, after a lapse of a minute or so, my friend of yesterday came to us.

‘Monsieur le docteur,’ he said, smiling. ‘Mademoiselle.’ he bowed to Flora.

‘Perhaps,’ I began, ‘you have heard of the tragedy which occurred last night.’

His face grew grave.

‘But certainly I have heard. It is horrible. I offer mademoiselle all my sympathy. In what way can I serve you?’

‘Miss Ackroyd,’ I said, ‘wants you to – to-’

‘To find the murderer,’ said Flora in a clear voice.

‘I see,’ said the little man. ‘But the police will do that, will they not?’

‘They might make a mistake,’ said Flora. ‘They are on their way to make a mistake now, I think. Please, M. Poirot, won’t you help us? If – if it is a question of money-’

Poirot held up his hand.

‘Not that, I beg of you, mademoiselle. Not that I do not care for money.’ his eyes showed a momentary twinkle. ‘Money, it means much to me and always has done.