The Murder of Roger Ackroyd / Убийство Роджера Экройда

‘Make certain that window’s closed, will you,’ he asked.

Somewhat surprised, I got up and went to it. It was not a french window, but one of the ordinary sash type. The heavy blue velvet curtains were drawn in front of it, but the window itself was open at the top.

Parker re-entered the room with my bag while I was still at the window.

‘That’s all right,’ I said, emerging again into the room.

‘You’ve put the latch across?’

‘Yes, yes. What’s the matter with you, Ackroyd?’

The door had just closed behind Parker, or I would not have put the question.

Ackroyd waited just a minute before replying.

‘I’m in hell,’ he said slowly, after a minute. ‘No, don’t bother with those damn tablets. I only said that for Parker. Servants are so curious. come here and sit down. The door’s closed too, isn’t it?’

‘Yes. Nobody can overhear; don’t be uneasy.’

‘Sheppard, nobody knows what I’ve gone through in the last twenty-four hours. If a man’s house ever fell in ruin about him, mine has about me.

This business of Ralph’s is the last straw. But we won’t talk about that now. It’s the other – the other – ! I don’t know what to do about it. And I’ve got to make up my mind soon.’

‘What’s the trouble?’

Ackroyd remained silent for a minute or two. he seemed curiously averse to begin. When he did speak, the question he asked came as a complete surprise. It was the last thing I expected.

‘Sheppard, you attended Ashley Ferrars in his last illness, didn’t you?’

‘Yes, I did.

’

he seemed to find even greater difficulty in framing his next question.

‘Did you ever suspect – did it ever enter your head – that – well, that he might have been poisoned?’

I was silent for a minute or two. Then I made up my mind what to say. Roger Ackroyd was not Caroline.

‘I’ll tell you the truth,’ I said. ‘At the time I had no suspicion whatever, but since – well, it was mere idle talk on my sister’s part that first put the idea into my head. Since then I haven’t been able to get it out again.

But, mind you, I’ve no foundation whatever for that suspicion.’

‘He was poisoned,’ said Ackroyd.

He spoke in a dull heavy voice.

‘Who by?’ I asked sharply.

‘His wife.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘She told me so herself.’

‘When?’

‘Yesterday! My god! Yesterday! It seems ten years ago.’

I waited a minute, then he went on.

‘You understand, Sheppard, I’m telling you this in confidence. It’s to go no further.