Roger Mystery

Chapter 18 The Living Room Maid (1)
We met Mrs Ackroyd in the hall.Beside her was a short, wizened man with a prominent jaw and piercing gray eyes that clearly belonged to a lawyer.

"Mr Hammond will stay to lunch with us," said Mrs Ackroyd. "Do you know Major Brant, Mr Hammond? And dear Dr. Jay's good friend. Also, this is—”

She stopped and looked blankly at Hercule Poirot.

"This is M. Poirot, mother," said Flora. "I mentioned it to you this morning."

"Oh, yes," said Mrs Ackroyd vaguely, "of course, my dear, of course. He'll find Ralph?"

"He'll find his uncle's murderer," said Flora.

"Oh, my darling," cried her mother, "don't mention it! My weak nerves can't take it. I'm broken this morning, broken. It's such a terrible thing to happen. I can't stand it." I can't help but think, this must be some kind of accident. Roger is so fond of playing with those weird antiques, it must be because he accidentally slipped his hand, or some other reason."

Out of politeness, everyone declined to comment on the argument.Poirot crept up to the lawyer and began talking to him in a mysterious whisper.The two moved to the window, and I leaned over to join, but hesitated.

"It doesn't bother you, does it?" I said.

"Where is there," said Poirot enthusiastically, "doctor, we are cooperating in the investigation. Without you, I would not be able to find my way. I am looking forward to a little information from the good Mr. Hammond. "

"I suppose you two represent Captain Ralph Paton." The lawyer spoke cautiously.

Poirot shook his head: "No, I'm out for justice. Miss Ackroyd asked me to investigate the murder of her uncle."

Mr Hammond was slightly surprised.

"No matter how bad the evidence is against Captain Peyton, I find it hard to believe that he could have been involved in this murder," he said. "The only thing that can be confirmed is that he is very hard-pressed and needs money—"

"Is he in a hurry for money?" Poirot put in hastily.

The lawyer shrugged.

"It's a common thing with Ralph Paton," he replied coldly. "He spends money like water, and asks his stepfather endlessly for money."

"Is it still like this recently? Like within the past year?"

"I can't tell. I never heard Mr. Ackroyd mention it."

"Understood. Mr. Hammond, I suppose you know the details of Mr. Ackroyd's will?"

"Of course. That's what I'm here for today."

"Then, since I have accepted Miss Ackroyd's entrustment, you shouldn't mind revealing the content of the will to me?"

"Actually, the will is quite simple, there are no legal terms, except for some bequests—"

"Such as?" asked Poirot.

Mr Hammond was a little surprised.

"A thousand pounds to Miss Russell, the housekeeper; fifty pounds to Emma Cooper, the cook; and five hundred pounds to Mr. Geoffrey Raymond, the secretary. Next are the hospitals—"

Poirot raised his hand. "Ah! I'm not interested in charitable donations."

"Well. £[-] worth of shares, proceeds to Mrs Cecil Ackroyd until her death. Miss Flora Ackroyd inherits £[-]. The rest - including this property, and all the shares in Ackroyd & Sons - will be inherited by his adopted son Ralph Payton."

"Is Mr. Ackroyd's fortune rich?"

"Very rich. Young Captain Peyton is about to become a millionaire."

During a moment's silence, Poirot and the lawyer exchanged glances.

"Mr. Hammond!" cried Mrs. Aykroyd, in a drawn voice, from the fireplace.

The lawyer responded and Poirot dragged me by the arm to the window.

"Look at these irises," he exclaimed, "how pretty, aren't they? What a delight."

At the same time, he pinched my arm and whispered, "Do you really want to help me? Really want to participate in the investigation?"

"Of course," I said hastily, "I wish I could. You don't know how boring I am like an old guy, without any new and interesting experiences."

"Very good, then we are on the same front. It is estimated that Major Brant will come over soon. He is worried by that good mother. I want to know a few things-but I don't want people to see me The purpose, do you understand? So I have to trouble you to come forward and ask questions."

"What do you want me to ask?" I understood.

"Please mention Mrs. Ferrars's name."

"Ok?"

"When you mention her, be natural. Then you ask Major Brant if he was here when Mrs. Ferrars' husband died. See what I mean? When he answers, pretend Pay attention to the expression on his face as if nothing had happened. Understand?"

There was no time for further discussion, and as Poirot had expected, Brant suddenly left the others and came towards us.

I suggested we go for a walk on the terrace, and he acquiesced.Poirot remained in the house.

I stop to admire a late blooming rose.

"But in a day or two, everything changed," I sighed. "I remember walking on the terrace when I came here on Wednesday, with Aykroyd by my side - refreshed. But now, only three days later, Ackroyd is dead, poor fellow. Mrs Ferrars is dead—you know her, don't you? Sure."

Brandt nodded.

"Have you seen her since you came here this time?"

"Went with Ackroyd, last Tuesday, I think. A charming woman, but a little eccentric. Mysterious. One can never guess her mind."

I looked into his calm gray eyes and saw nothing strange, so I asked again: "Have you seen her before?"

"The last time I came here, the couple had just moved in." He paused, and then added, "Unbelievable, she was completely different back then."

"What's changed?" I asked.

"Looks ten years older."

"Were you not here when her husband died?" I asked as casually as possible.

"No. Everyone says it's a relief to her. Maybe it's not kind, but it's true."

I agreed, and remarked cautiously: "Ashley Ferrars is not at all a good husband."

"A villain in my opinion," Brant said.

"No," I said, "he just has more money than he deserves."

"Oh, money! The evil in the world is, after all, money, or the lack of it."

"So what kind of trouble is it for you?" I asked.

"Just enough to spend. I'm lucky."

"indeed."

"Honestly, I'm a little tight right now. I got an inheritance a year ago, but listened to other people's advice and squandered the money like a fool."

I deeply sympathized and poured out my similar experience.

At this time the gong sounded for dinner, and we went into the house to have lunch together.Poirot pulled me back slightly.

"How about it?"

"He's fine," I said, "I'm sure of that."

"Not flustered at all?"

"He inherited a fortune a year ago," I said, "but so what? There's nothing wrong with that? I swear he's a man of integrity and integrity."

"No doubt, no doubt," Poirot hastily reassured me, "don't bother yourself."

He speaks like a wayward child.

We file into the restaurant.Unbelievable, it's been less than 24 hours since the last time I ate at this table.

After dinner Mrs Ackroyd took me aside and we sat down together on the sofa.

"I can't help feeling sorry," she muttered, pulling out a handkerchief which was obviously not meant to wipe tears, "because Roger doesn't trust me at all. The twenty thousand pounds should have been left to me—not to Flora. He should trust a mother to protect her daughter's interests. In my opinion, that's a sign of mistrust."

"You forget, Mrs. Ackroyd," said I, "that after all Flora is Ackroyd's own niece and they are related by blood. It would be different if you were not her sister-in-law but a sister." .”

"Poor Cecil died young, and Roger should have considered my feelings," said the lady, dabbing at her eyelashes with a handkerchief, "but he was always so eccentric when it came to money—not to mention What a sting. Both Flora and I are in a tough situation, and he doesn't even give the poor kid pocket money. Although he pays her bills, he's always not happy about it, and asks her if she buys all those fancy things What's the use—what a man's idea! But—oh, I forgot what to say! Oh, yes, you know, we don't have a penny of our own money. Flora has a point— —I must say she was full of complaints about it. But of course, she still loved her uncle deeply, but any girl would have complaints. Yes, I must say that Roger's attitude towards money is simply unreasonable. His The old face towel had already been torn with several big holes, and he was reluctant to buy a new one. At the same time," Mrs. Ackroyd suddenly revealed her trademark turning tone, "he left the woman a large sum of money. Money—a thousand pounds, think of it, a thousand pounds!"

"Which woman?"

"Russell that woman. As I said earlier, she was very wrong. But Roger couldn't bear anyone to speak ill of her. He said she had a strong character, and expressed his admiration for her, endlessly praised her integrity, Independent and moral. I think she's a bit slippery. She's definitely trying to get married to Roger, but I've spoiled it, so she's always hated me. That's normal, I've seen her through."

I began to wonder when Mrs Ackroyd's chatter would cease, when I would be free.

Thanks to Mr. Hammond coming to say goodbye, I took the opportunity to stand up.

"As for the coroner's inquest," I said, "where do you think it would be better? Here or at the 'Three Boars'?"

Mrs Ackroyd stared at me with her mouth open. "Autopsy interrogation?" She was stunned. "Is this necessary?"

Mr. Hammond gave a dry cough and said in a low voice, "In these circumstances an inquest is inevitable." He coughed twice more.

"But Dr. Shepherd can certainly handle it as—"

"There's only so much I can do." I said coldly.

"If he dies by accident—"

"He was murdered, Mrs Ackroyd," I said bluntly.

She gave a short scream.

"The accident theory doesn't stand up at all."

Mrs Ackroyd looked at me sadly.She was just afraid of losing face during the autopsy, which was really stupid.I am very impatient.

"If there's an inquest, I—I shouldn't have to answer questions or anything, will I?" she asked.

"I don't know what are the necessary links," I replied. "Mr. Raymond will take care of you. He understands the cause and effect and can submit a formal identification."

The lawyer nodded slightly in agreement.

"I really think there's nothing to worry about, Mrs. Ackroyd," he said. "You can get out of the trouble quite well. By the way, as to money, are you in need of it now? I mean," saw her Looking at him suspiciously, Hammond said, "I mean money that can be spent directly. Cash. If not, I can arrange to allocate some money to you for daily expenses."

"That's easy," said Raymond, who was standing by. "Mr. Ackroyd just cashed a check for one hundred pounds yesterday."

"One hundred pounds?"

"Yes, I plan to use it to pay wages today and pay some other expenses. Now the money is still intact."

(End of this chapter)