The Murder of Roger Ackroyd, Agatha Christie [accelerated reader books TXT] 📗

Inspector Raglan’s face lightened a little.

“I’ve heard of some very remarkable successes of yours,” observed the colonel, thawing.

“I have had much experience,” said Poirot quietly. “But most of my successes have been obtained by the aid of the police. I admire enormously your English police. If Inspector Raglan permits me to assist him, I shall be both honoured and flattered.”

The inspector’s countenance became still more gracious.

Colonel Melrose drew me aside. “From all I hear, this little fellow’s done some really remarkable things,” he murmured. “We’re naturally anxious not to have to call in Scotland Yard. Raglan seems very sure of himself, but I’m not quite certain that I agree with him. You see, I⁠—er⁠—know the parties concerned better than he does. This fellow doesn’t seem out after kudos, does he? Would work in with us unobtrusively, eh?”

“To the greater glory of Inspector Raglan,” I said solemnly.

“Well, well,” said Colonel Melrose breezily in a louder voice, “we must put you wise to the latest developments, M. Poirot.”

“I thank you,” said Poirot. “My friend, Doctor Sheppard, said something of the butler being suspected?”

“That’s all bunkum,” said Raglan instantly. “These high-class servants get in such a funk that they act suspiciously for nothing at all.”

“The fingerprints?” I hinted.

“Nothing like Parker’s.” He gave a faint smile, and added: “And yours and Mr. Raymond’s don’t fit either, doctor.”

“What about those of Captain Ralph Paton?” asked Poirot quietly.

I felt a secret admiration for the way he took the bull by the horns. I saw a look of respect creep into the inspector’s eye.

“I see you don’t let the grass grow under your feet, Mr. Poirot. It will be a pleasure to work with you, I’m sure. We’re going to take that young gentleman’s fingerprints as soon as we can lay hands upon him.”

“I can’t help thinking you’re mistaken, inspector,” said Colonel Melrose warmly. “I’ve known Ralph Paton from a boy upward. He’d never stoop to murder.”

“Maybe not,” said the inspector tonelessly.

“What have you got against him?” I asked.

“Went out just on nine o’clock last night. Was seen in the neighbourhood of Fernly Park somewhere about nine-thirty. Not been seen since. Believed to be in serious money difficulties. I’ve got a pair of his shoes here⁠—shoes with rubber studs in them. He had two pairs, almost exactly alike. I’m going up now to compare them with those footmarks. The constable is up there seeing that no one tampers with them.”

“We’ll go at once,” said Colonel Melrose. “You and M. Poirot will accompany us, will you not?”

We assented, and all drove up in the colonel’s car. The inspector was anxious to get at once to the footmarks, and asked to be put down at the lodge. About halfway up the drive, on the right, a path branched off which led round to the terrace and the window of Ackroyd’s study.

“Would you like to go with the inspector, M. Poirot?” asked the chief constable, “or would you prefer to examine the study?”

Poirot chose the latter alternative. Parker opened the door to us. His manner was smug and deferential, and he seemed to have recovered from his panic of the night before.

Colonel Melrose took a key from his pocket, and unlocking the door which let into the lobby, he ushered us through into the study.

“Except for the removal of the body, M. Poirot, this room is exactly as it was last night.”

“And the body was found⁠—where?”

As precisely as possible, I described Ackroyd’s position.

The armchair still stood in front of the fire.

Poirot went and sat down in it. “The blue letter you speak of, where was it when you left the room?”

“Mr. Ackroyd had laid it down on this little table at his right hand.”

Poirot nodded. “Except for that, everything was in its place?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Colonel Melrose, would you be so extremely obliging as to sit down in this chair a minute. I thank you. Now M. le docteur, will you kindly indicate to me the exact position of the dagger?”

I did so, whilst the little man stood in the doorway.

“The hilt of the dagger was plainly visible from the door then. Both you and Parker could see it at once?”

“Yes.”

Poirot went next to the window.

“The electric light was on, of course, when you discovered the body?” he asked over his shoulder.

I assented, and joined him where he was studying the marks on the windowsill.

“The rubber studs are the same pattern as those in Captain Paton’s shoes,” he said quietly.

Then he came back once more to the middle of the room. His eye travelled round, searching everything in the room with a quick, trained glance.

“Are you a man of good observation. Doctor Sheppard?” he asked at last.

“I think so,” I said, surprised.

“There was a fire in the grate, I see. When you broke the door down and found Mr. Ackroyd dead, how was the fire? Was it low?”

I gave a vexed laugh. “I⁠—I really can’t say. I didn’t notice. Perhaps Mr. Raymond or Major Blunt⁠—”

The little man opposite me shook his head with a faint smile. “One must always proceed with method. I made an error of judgment in asking you that question. To each man his own knowledge. You could tell me the details of the patient’s appearance⁠—nothing there would escape you. If I wanted information about the papers on that desk, Mr. Raymond would have noticed anything there was to see. To find out about the fire, I must ask the man whose business it is to observe such things. You permit⁠—”

He moved swiftly to the fireplace and rang the bell.

After a lapse of a minute or two Parker appeared.

“The bell rang, sir,” he said hesitatingly.

“Come in, Parker,” said Colonel Melrose. “This gentleman wants to ask you something.”

Parker transferred a respectful attention to Poirot.

“Parker,” said the little man, “when you broke down the door with Dr. Sheppard last night, and found your master dead, what was the state of the fire?”

Parker replied without a pause. “It had burned very low, sir. It was almost out.”

“Ah!” said Poirot. The exclamation sounded