The Murder of Roger Ackroyd / Убийство Роджера Экройда

The more you urge him to do a thing, the more determined he is not to do it. All my arguments were in vain.

The letter had been brought in at twenty minutes to nine. It was just on ten minutes to nine when I left him, the letter still unread. I hesitated with my hand on the door handle, looking back and wondering if there was anything I had left undone. I could think of nothing. With a shake of the head I passed out and closed the door behind me.

I was startled by seeing the figure of Parker close at hand.

he looked embarrassed, and it occurred to me that he might have been listening at the door.

What a fat, smug, oily face the man had, and surely there was something decidedly shifty in his eye.

‘Mr Ackroyd particularly does not want to be disturbed,’ I said coldly. ‘He told me to tell you so.’

‘Quite so, sir. I–I fancied I heard the bell ring.’

This was such a palpable untruth that I did not trouble to reply. Preceding me to the hall, Parker helped me on with my overcoat, and I stepped out into the night.

The moon was overcast, and everything seemed very dark and still.

The village church clock chimed nine o’clock as I passed through the lodge gates. I turned to the left towards the village, and almost cannoned into a man coming in the opposite direction.

‘This the way to Fernly Park, mister?’ asked the stranger in a hoarse voice.

I looked at him. he was wearing a hat pulled down over his eyes, and his coat collar turned up. I could see little or nothing of his face, but he seemed a young fellow.

The voice was rough and uneducated.

‘These are the lodge gates here,’ I said.

‘Thank you, mister.’ He paused, and then added, quite unnecessarily, ‘I’m a stranger in these parts, you see.’

He went on, passing through the gates as I turned to look after him. The odd thing was that his voice reminded me of someone’s voice that I knew, but whose it was I could not think.

Ten minutes later I was at home once more. Caroline was full of curiosity to know why I had returned so early.

I had to make up a slightly fictitious account of the evening in order to satisfy her, and I had an uneasy feeling that she saw through the transparent device.

At ten o’clock I rose, yawned, and suggested bed. Caroline acquiesced.

It was friday night, and on friday night I wind the clocks. I did it as usual, whilst Caroline satisfied herself that the servants had locked up the kitchen properly.