The Murder of Roger Ackroyd / Убийство Роджера Экройда

Caroline does the home prescribing both for herself and me.

‘Damn my liver,’ I said irritably. ‘Did you talk about the murder at all?’

‘Well, naturally, James. What else is there to talk about locally? I was able to set M. Poirot straight upon several points. he was very grateful to me. he said I had the makings of a born detective in me – and a wonderful psychological insight into human nature.’

Caroline was exactly like a cat that is full to over-flowing with rich cream. She was positively purring.

‘He talked a lot about the little grey cells of the brain, and of their functions. His own, he says, are of the first quality.’

‘He would say so,’ I remarked bitterly. ‘Modesty is certainly not his middle name.’

‘I wish you wouldn’t be so horribly American, James. he thought it very important that ralph should be found as soon as possible, and induced to come forward and give an account of himself. he says that his disappearance will produce a very unfortunate impression at the inquest.

‘And what did you say to that?’

‘I agreed with him,’ said Caroline importantly. ‘And I was able to tell him the way people were talking already about it.’

‘Caroline,’ I said sharply, ‘did you tell M. Poirot what you overheard in the wood that day?’

‘I did,’ said Caroline complacently.

I got up and began to walk about.

‘You realize what you’re doing, I hope,’ I jerked out. ‘you’re putting a halter round ralph Paton’s neck as surely as you’re sitting in that chair.

‘Not at all,’ said Caroline, quite unruffled. ‘I was surprised you hadn’t told him.’

‘I took very good care not to,’ I said. ‘I’m fond of that boy.’

‘So am I. That’s why I say you’re talking nonsense. I don’t believe ralph did it, and so the truth can’t hurt him, and we ought to give M. Poirot all the help we can. Why, think, very likely ralph was out with that identical girl on the night of the murder, and if so, he’s got a perfect alibi.

‘If he’s got a perfect alibi,’ I retorted, ‘why doesn’t he come forward and say so?’

‘Might get the girl into trouble,’ said Caroline sapiently. ‘But if M. Poirot gets hold of her, and puts it to her as her duty, she’ll come forward of her own accord and clear Ralph.’

‘You seem to have invented a romantic fairy story of your own,’ I said. ‘you read too many trashy novels, Caroline. I’ve always told you so.’ I dropped into my chair again.