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

been reading a book from the library about the underworld of Paris, and it says that some of the worst women criminals are young girls with the faces of angels.”

“That’s in France,” said Caroline instantly.

“Just so,” said the colonel. “Now, I’ll tell you a very curious thing⁠—a story that was going round the Bazaars in India.⁠ ⁠…”

The colonel’s story was one of interminable length, and of curiously little interest. A thing that happened in India many years ago cannot compare for a moment with an event that took place in King’s Abbot the day before yesterday.

It was Caroline who brought the colonel’s story to a close by fortunately going Mah Jong. After the slight unpleasantness always caused by my corrections of Caroline’s somewhat faulty arithmetic, we started a new hand.

“East Wind passes,” said Caroline. “I’ve got an idea of my own about Ralph Paton. Three Characters. But I’m keeping it to myself for the present.”

“Are you, dear?” said Miss Gannett. “Chow⁠—I mean Pung.”

“Yes,” said Caroline firmly.

“Was it all right about the boots?” asked Miss Gannett. “Their being black, I mean?”

“Quite all right,” said Caroline.

“What was the point, do you think?” asked Miss Gannett.

Caroline pursed up her lips, and shook her head with an air of knowing all about it.

“Pung,” said Miss Gannett. “No⁠—Unpung. I suppose that now the doctor’s in with M. Poirot he knows all the secrets?”

“Far from it,” I said.

“James is so modest,” said Caroline. “Ah! A concealed Kong.”

The colonel gave vent to a whistle. For the moment gossip was forgotten.

“Your own Wind, too,” he said. “And you’ve got two Pungs of Dragons. We must be careful. Miss Caroline’s out for a big hand.”

We played for some minutes with no irrelevant conversation.

“This M. Poirot now,” said Colonel Carter, “is he really such a great detective?”

“The greatest the world has ever known,” said Caroline solemnly. “He had to come here incognito to avoid publicity.”

“Chow,” said Miss Gannett. “Quite wonderful for our little village, I’m sure. By the way, Clara⁠—my maid, you know⁠—is great friends with Elsie, the housemaid at Fernly, and what do you think Elsie told her? That there’s been a lot of money stolen, and it’s her opinion⁠—Elsie’s⁠—I mean, that the parlour maid had something to do with it. She’s leaving at the month, and she’s crying a good deal at night. If you ask me, the girl is very likely in league with a gang. She’s always been a queer girl⁠—she’s not friends with any of the girls round here. She goes off by herself on her days out⁠—very unnatural, I call it, and most suspicious. I asked her once to come to our Girls’ Friendly Evenings, but she refused, and then I asked her a few questions about her home and her family⁠—all that sort of thing, and I’m bound to say I considered her manner most impertinent. Outwardly very respectful⁠—but she shut me up in the most barefaced way.”

Miss Gannett stopped for breath, and the colonel, who was totally uninterested in the servant question, remarked that in the Shanghai Club brisk play was the invariable rule.

We had a round of brisk play.

“That Miss Russell,” said Caroline. “She came here pretending to consult James on Friday morning. It’s my opinion she wanted to see where the poisons were kept. Five Characters.”

“Chow,” said Miss Gannett. “What an extraordinary idea! I wonder if you can be right.”

“Talking of poisons,” said the colonel. “Eh⁠—what? Haven’t I discarded? Oh! Eight Bamboos.”

“Mah Jong!” said Miss Gannett.

Caroline was very much annoyed.

“One Red Dragon,” she said regretfully, “and I should have had a hand of three doubles.”

“I’ve had two Red Dragons all the time,” I mentioned.

“So exactly like you, James,” said Caroline reproachfully. “You’ve no conception of the spirit of the game.”

I myself thought I had played rather cleverly. I should have had to pay Caroline an enormous amount if she had gone Mah Jong. Miss Gannett’s Mah Jong was of the poorest variety possible, as Caroline did not fail to point out to her.

East Wind passed, and we started a new hand in silence.

“What I was going to tell you just now was this,” said Caroline.

“Yes?” said Miss Gannett encouragingly.

“My idea about Ralph Paton, I mean.”

“Yes, dear,” said Miss Gannett, still more encouragingly. “Chow!”

“It’s a sign of weakness to Chow so early,” said Caroline severely. “You should go for a big hand.”

“I know,” said Miss Gannett. “You were saying⁠—about Ralph Paton, you know?”

“Yes. Well, I’ve a pretty shrewd idea where he is.”

We all stopped to stare at her.

“This is very interesting, Miss Caroline,” said Colonel Carter. “All your own idea, eh?”

“Well, not exactly. I’ll tell you about it. You know that big map of the county we have in the hall?”

We all said yes.

“As M. Poirot was going out the other day, he stopped and looked at it, and he made some remark⁠—I can’t remember exactly what it was. Something about Cranchester being the only big town anywhere near us⁠—which is true, of course. But after he had gone⁠—it came to me suddenly.”

“What came to you?”

“His meaning. Of course Ralph is in Cranchester.”

It was at that moment that I knocked down the rack that held my pieces. My sister immediately reproved me for clumsiness, but half-heartedly. She was intent on her theory.

“Cranchester, Miss Caroline?” said Colonel Carter. “Surely not Cranchester! It’s so near.”

“That’s exactly it,” cried Caroline triumphantly. “It seems quite clear by now that he didn’t get away from here by train. He must simply have walked into Cranchester. And I believe he’s there still. No one would dream of his being so near at hand.”

I pointed out several objections to the theory, but when once Caroline has got something firmly into her head, nothing dislodges it.

“And you think M. Poirot has the same idea,” said Miss Gannett thoughtfully. “It’s a curious coincidence, but I was out for a walk this afternoon on the Cranchester road, and he passed me in a car coming from that direction.”

We all looked at each other.

“Why, dear me,” said Miss Gannett suddenly, “I’m Mah Jong