The Murder of Roger Ackroyd. Агата Кристи
see—about ten minutes to nine. He told me that he didn’t wish to be disturbed, and I repeated the order to Parker.”
“Just so, sir,” said Parker respectfully.
“Mr Ackroyd was certainly alive at half-past nine,” put in Raymond, “for I heard his voice in here talking.”
“Who was he talking to?”
“That I don’t know. Of course, at the time I took it for granted that it was Dr Sheppard who was with him. I wanted to ask him a question about some papers I was engaged upon, but when I heard the voices I remembered that he had said he wanted to talk to Dr Sheppard without being disturbed, and I went away again. But now it seems that the doctor had already left?”
I nodded.
“I was at home by a quarter past nine,” I said. “I didn’t go out again until I received the telephone call.”
“Who could have been with him at half-past nine?” queried the inspector. “It wasn’t you, Mr—er –”
“Major Blunt,” I said.
“Major Hector Blunt?” asked the inspector, a respectful tone creeping into his voice.
Blunt merely jerked his head affirmatively.
“I think we’ve seen you down here before, sir,” said the inspector. “I didn’t recognize you for the moment, but you were staying with Mr Ackroyd a year ago last May.”
“June,” corrected Blunt.
“Just so, June it was. Now, as I was saying, it wasn’t you with Mr Ackroyd at nine-thirty this evening?”
Blunt shook his head.
“Never saw him after dinner,” he volunteered.
The inspector turned once more to Raymond.
“You didn’t overhear any of the conversation going on, did you, sir?”
“I did catch just a fragment of it,” said the secretary, “and, supposing as I did that it was Dr Sheppard who was with Mr Ackroyd, that fragment struck me as distinctly odd. As far as I can remember, the exact words were these. 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 I 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 clue.” He turned to the butler. “You say, Parker, that nobody was admitted by the front door this evening?”
“That’s what I say, sir.”
“Then it seems almost certain that Mr Ackroyd himself must have admitted this stranger. But I don’t quite see –”
The inspector went into a kind of day-dream for some minutes.
“One thing’s clear,” he said at length, rousing himself from his absorption. “Mr Ackroyd was alive and well at nine-thirty. That is the last moment at which he is known to have been alive.”
Parker gave vent to an apologetic cough which brought the inspector’s eyes on him at once.
“Well?” he said sharply.
“If you’ll excuse me, sir, Miss Flora saw him after that.”
“Miss Flora?”
“Yes, sir. About a quarter to ten that would be. It was after that that she told me Mr Ackroyd wasn’t to be disturbed again tonight.”
“Did he send her to you with that message?”
“Not exactly, sir. 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.”
The inspector looked at the butler with rather closer attention than he had bestowed on him up to now.
“You’d already been told that Mr Ackroyd didn’t want to be disturbed, hadn’t you?”
Parker began to stammer. His hands shook.
“Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Quite so, sir.”
“And yet you were proposing to do so?”
“I’d forgotten, sir. At least I mean, I always bring the whisky and soda about that time, sir, and ask if there’s anything more, and I thought—well, I was doing as usual without thinking.”
It was at this moment that it began to dawn upon me that Parker was most suspiciously flustered. The man was shaking and twitching all over.
“H’m,” said the inspector. “I must see Miss Ackroyd at once. For the moment we’ll leave this room exactly as it is. I can return here after I’ve heard what Miss Ackroyd has to tell me. I shall just take the precaution of shutting and bolting the window.”
This precaution accomplished, he led the way into the hall and we followed him. He paused a moment, as he glanced up at the little staircase, then spoke over his shoulder to the constable.
“Jones, you’d better stay here. Don’t let anyone go into that room.”
Parker interposed deferentially.
“If you’ll excuse me, sir. If you were to lock the door into the main hall, nobody could gain access to this part. That staircase leads only to Mr Ackroyd’s bedroom and bathroom. There is no communication with the other part of the house. There once was a door through, but Mr Ackroyd had it blocked up. He liked to feel that his suite was entirely private.”
To make things clear and explain the position, I have appended a rough sketch of the right-hand wing of the house. The small staircase leads, as Parker explained, to a big bedroom made by two being knocked into one, and an adjoining bathroom and lavatory.
The inspector took in the position at a glance. We went through into the large hall and he locked the door behind him, slipping the key into his pocket. Then he gave the constable some low-voiced instructions, and the latter prepared to depart.
“We must get busy on those shoe tracks,” explained the inspector. “But first of all, I must have a word with Miss Ackroyd. She was the last person to see her uncle alive. Does she know yet?”
Raymond shook his head.
“Well, no need to tell her for another five minutes. She can answer my questions better without being upset by knowing the truth about her uncle. Tell her there’s been a burglary, and ask her if she would mind dressing and coming down to answer a few questions.”
It was Raymond who went upstairs on this errand.
“Miss Ackroyd will be down in a minute,” he said, when he returned. “I told her just what you suggested.”
In less than five minutes Flora descended the staircase. She was wrapped in a pale pink silk kimono. She looked anxious and excited.
The inspector stepped forward.
“Good evening, Miss Ackroyd,” he said civilly. “We’re afraid there’s been an attempt at robbery, and we want you to help us. What’s this room—the billiard room? Come in here and sit down.”
Flora sat down composedly on the wide divan which ran the length of the wall, and looked up at the inspector.
“I don’t quite understand. What has been stolen? What do you want me to tell you?”
“It’s just this, Miss Ackroyd. Parker here says you came out of your uncle’s study at about a quarter to ten. Is that right?”
“Quite right. I had been to say goodnight to him.”