Agatha Christie, The Murder
of Roger Ackroyd
When had I last seen her? Not for over a week. Her manner then had been normal enough considering -well - considering everything.
Then I suddenly
remembered that I had seen her, though not to speak to, only yesterday. She
had been walking with Ralph Paton, and I had been surprised because I had
had no idea that he was likely to be in King's Abbot. I thought, indeed,
that he had quarrelled finally with his stepfather. Nothing had been seen
of him down here for nearly six months. They had been walking along, side
by side, their heads close together, and she had been talking very earnestly.
I think I can safely say that it was at this moment
that a foreboding of the future first swept over me. Nothing tangible as
yet - but a vague premonition of the way things were setting. That earnest
tete-a'-tete between Ralph Paton and Mrs Ferrars the day before struck
me disagreeably. (21-22)
I saw that
plainly enough. And I was very uneasy. All sorts of forebodings assailed
me. […]
Parker re-entered the room with my bag while I
was still at the window. (55)
'Yes,' he
went on, in a low, monotonous voice, 'she confessed everything. It seems
that there is one person who has known all along – who has been blackmailing
her for huge sums. It was the strain of that that drove her nearly mad.'
'Who was
the man?'
Suddenly before my eyes there arose the picture
of Ralph Paton and Mrs Ferrars side by side. Their heads so close together.
I felt a momentary throb of anxiety. Supposing - oh! but surely that was
impossible. I remembered the frankness of Ralph's greeting that very afternoon.
Absurd! 58)
‘I believe that if I could have seen her then, she would
have told me his name and bid me go for him for all I was worth.’
He looked at me. (61)
“No,” I cried impulsively,
“read it now.” Ackroyd stared at me in some surprise. (63)
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. […]
‘Mr Ackroyd particularly does not want to be disturbed,’
I said coldly. ‘He told me to tell you so.’ (63-64)
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. (65)
Ackroyd was sitting as I had left him in the arm-chair
before the fire. […] Parker hurried away, still wiping his perspiring brow.
I did what little had to be done. (71)
And then and there I narrated the whole events
of the evening as I have set them don here. The inspector listened keenly.
(87)
'You want
to go and see him?' I asked slowly. 'Now why?'
'To get
him to investigate this murder, of course,' said Caroline sharply. 'Don't
be so stupid, James.'
I was not really being stupid. Caroline does not
always understand what I am driving at. (99)
‘Flora,’ I said gravely,
‘be guided by me. I advise you not to drag this detective into the case.’
(100)
‘The why did you go to the Three Boars last night?’ demanded
Flora. ‘On your way home – after Uncle’s body was found?’
I was momentarily silenced. I had hoped that that
visit of mine would remain unnoticed. (100)
Thus enjoined,
I plunged into a careful narrative, embodying all the facts I have previously
set down. […]
I paused a moment to choose my words carefully.
(104)
‘Messieurs and Mesdames,
I tell you, I mean to know. And I shall know – in spite of you all.’[…] Each
one of you has something to hide. Come on now, am I right?’ His glance, challenging
and accusing, swept round the table. And every pair of eyes dropped before
his. Yes, mine as well. (190)
I was at Poirot's elbow the whole time. I saw what
he saw. I tried my best to read his mind. As I know now, I failed in this
latter task. Though Poirot showed me all his discoveries - as, for instance,
the gold wedding-ring - he held back the vital and yet logical impressions
that he formed. As I came to know later, this secrecy was characteristic
of him. He would throw out hints and suggestions, but beyond that he would
not go. (203)
‘I’m helping him with the case,’ she explained.
I felt rather
uneasy. Caroline is bad enough as it is. What will she be like with her detective
instincts encouraged? […]
I stared at her. I see now that I was unbelievably stupid about
there boots. I failed altogether to grasp the point. (216)
‘Ralph Paton’s boots were black, not brown.’
I was watching him closely as I gave the message
and I fancied that I saw a momentary flicker of discomposure. If so, it passed
almost immediately. (223)
‘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. (241)
‘You think it was he [Parker] who blackmailed Mrs Ferrars?’
‘Either
that, or –‘
‘Well?’
I said after waiting a minute or two.
‘My friend,
I will tell this to you – I hope it was he.’
The gravity of his manner, and something indefinable
that tinged it, reduced me to silence. (248)
‘I thank you, my friend.
The word exact, you are zealous for it.’ (257)
‘Ah,’ said Poirot. ‘But weakness, where does I end?’
‘Exactly,’
said Caroline. ‘Take James here - weak as water, if
I weren’t to look after him.’
‘My dear
Caroline,’ I said irritably, ‘why can’t you talk without drawing in personality?’
[…] ‘Heaven knows what mischief you might have
got into by now.’ (259-260, cf. p. 261: There is in him somewhere a strain
of weakness - deep down […])
‘Let us take a man – a very ordinary man. A man with no
idea of murder in his heart. There is in him somewhere a strain of weakness
– deep down. It has so far never been called into play […]
He was silent for a moment. It was as though he
had laid a spell upon the room. I cannot try to describe the impression his
words produced. There was something in the merciless analysis, and the rather
ruthless power of vision which struck fear into both of us. (261-263)
He and I
lunched together at the hotel. I know now that the whole thing lay clearly
unravelled before him. He had got the last thread he needed to lead him to
the truth.
But at the time I had no suspicion of the fact.
(272)
‘Take the matter of Mademoiselle Flora. The inspector was
surprised – but you – you were not.’
‘I never
dreamed of her being the thief.’ I expostulated.
‘That – perhaps no. But I was watching your face
and you were not – like Inspector Raglan - startled
and incredulous.’ (293)
Every man has his hobby. I immediately drew Poirot’s
attention to my home-made wireless. Finding him sympathetic, I showed him
one or two little inventions of my own. (295)
‘My dear child,’ I said, ‘I have not the least idea where
Ralph Paton is at the present moment.’
‘That is true enough,’ said Poirot. (322: dramatic
irony)
‘'So far, so good,' he said. 'Things are straightening
themselves out.'
'They're
getting to look blacker and blacker against Ralph Paton,' I observed gloomily.
Poirot nodded.
'Yes, that
is so. But it was to be expected, was it not?'
I looked at him, slightly puzzled by the remark.
He was leaning back in the chair, his eyes half closed, the tips of his fingers
just touching each other. Suddenly he sighed and shook his head. (326)
‘You have recorded all the facts faithfully and
exactly - though you have shown yourself becomingly
reticent as to your own share in them.’ (329)
See you,
all these people tonight are suspects. Amongst them, I shall find the person
who killed Mr. Ackroyd.’
‘You really
believe that?’ I said incredulously.
‘I see that you do not,’ said Poirot dryly. ‘Not
yet do you appreciate Hercule Poirot at his true worth.’ (330)
(page numbers refer to Harper Collins published in 2002 - ISBN 0 00 714134 3)