He didn't do it, I tell you.' She was leaning forward. That iron self-control was broken through at last. Terror and desperation was in her face.
'M. Poirot! M. Poirot! Oh, do believe me.' Poirot got up and came to her. He patted her reassuringly on the shoulder.
'But yes - but yes, I will believe. I had to make you speak, you know.' For an instant suspicion flared up in her.
'Is what you said true?' 'That Charles Kent is suspected of the crime? Yes, that is true. You alone can save him, by telling the reason for his being at Fernly.' 'He came to see me.' She spoke in a low, hurried voice. 'I went out to meet him ' 'In the summer-house, yes, I know.' 'How do you know?' 'Mademoiselle, it is the business of Hercule Poirot to know things. I know that you went out earlier in the evening, that you left a message in the summer-house to say what time you would be there.' 'Yes, I did. I had heard from him - saying he was coming. I dared not let him come to the house. I wrote to the address he gave me and said I would meet him in the summerhouse, and described it to him so that he would be able to find it.
Then I was afraid he might not wait there patiently, and I ran out and left a piece of paper to say I would be there about ten minutes past nine. I didn't want the servants to see me, so I slipped out through the drawing-room window. As I came back, I met Dr Sheppard, and I fancied that he would think it queer. I was out of breath, for I had been running. I had no idea that he was expected to dinner that night.' She paused.
'Go on,' said Poirot. 'You went out to meet him at ten minutes past nine. What did you say to each other?' 'It's difficult. You see-' 'Mademoiselle,' said Poirot, interrupting her, 'in this matter I must have the whole truth. What you tell us need never go beyond these four walls. Dr Sheppard will be discreet, and so shall I. See, I will help you. This Charles Kent, he is your son, is he not?' She nodded. The colour had flamed into her cheeks.
'No one has ever known. It was long ago - long ago - down in Kent. I was not married…' 'So you took the name of the county as a surname for him. I understand.' 'I got work. I managed to pay for his board and lodging. I never told him that I was his mother. But he turned out badly, he drank, then took to drugs. I managed to pay his passage out to Canada. I didn't hear of him for a year or two.
Then, somehow or other, he found out that I was his mother.
He wrote asking me for money. Finally, I heard from him back in this country again. He was coming to see me at Fernly, he said. I dared not let him come to the house. I have always been considered so - so very respectable. If anyone got an inkling - it would have been all up with my post as housekeeper. So I wrote to him in the way I have just told you.' 'And in the morning you came to see Dr Sheppard?' 'Yes. I wondered if something could be done. He was not a bad boy - before he took to drugs.' 'I see,' said Poirot. 'Now let us go on with the story. He came that night to the summerhouse?' 'Yes, he was waiting for me when I got there. He was very rough and abusive. I had brought with me all the money I had, and I gave it to him. We talked a little, and then he went away.' 'What time was that?' 'It must have been between twenty and twenty-five minutes past nine. It was not yet half-past when I got back to the house.' 'Which way did he go?' 'Straight out the same way he came, by the path that joined the drive just inside the lodge gates.' Poirot nodded.
'And you, what did you do?' 'I went back to the house. Major Blunt was walking up and down the terrace smoking, so I made a detour to get round to the side door. It was just then on half-past nine, as I tell you.' Poirot nodded again. He made a note or two in a microscopic pocketbook.
'I think that is all,' he said thoughtfully.
'Ought I -?' she hesitated. 'Ought I to tell all this to Inspector Raglan?' 'It may come to that. But let us not be in a hurry. Let us proceed slowly, with due order and method. Charles Kent is not yet formally charged with murder. Circumstances may arise which will render your story unnecessary.' Miss Russell rose.
'Thank you very much, M. Poirot,' she said. 'You have been very kind - very kind indeed. You - you do believe me, don't you? That Charles had nothing to do with this wicked murder!' 'There seems no doubt that the man who was talking to Mr Ackroyd in the library at nine-thirty could not possibly have been your son. Be of good courage, mademoiselle. All will yet be well.' Miss Russell departed. Poirot and I were left together.
'So that's that,' I said. 'Every time we come back to Ralph Paton. How did you manage to spot Miss Russell as the person Charles Kent came to meet? Did you notice the resemblance?' 'I had connected her with the unknown man long before we actually came face to face with him. As soon as we found that quill. The quill suggested dope, and I remembered your account of Miss Russell's visit to you. Then I found the article on cocaine in that morning's paper. It all seemed very clear. She had heard from someone that morning - someone addicted to drugs, she read the article in the paper, and she came to ask you a few tentative questions. She mentioned cocaine, since the article in question was on cocaine. Then, when you seemed too interested, she switched hurriedly to the subject of detective stories and untraceable poisons. I suspected a son or a brother, or some other undesirable male relation. Ah! but I must go. It is the time of the lunch.' 'Stay and lunch with us,' I suggested.
Poirot shook his head. A faint twinkle came into his eye.
'Not again today. I should not like to force Mademoiselle Caroline to adopt a vegetarian diet two days in succession.' It occurred to me that there was not much which escaped Hercule Poirot.
Chapter 19. The Paragraph in the Paper
Caroline, of course, had not failed to see Miss Russell come to the surgery door. I had anticipated this, and had ready an elaborate account of the lady's bad knee. But Caroline was not in a cross-questioning mood. Her point of view was that she knew what Miss Russell had really come for and that I didn't.
'Pumping you, James,' said Caroline. 'Pumping you in the most shameless manner, I've no doubt. It's no good interrupting.
I dare say you hadn't the least idea she was doing it even. Men are so simple. She knows that you are in M. Poirot's confidence, and she wants to find out things. Do you know what I think, James?' 'I couldn't begin to imagine. You think so many extraordinary things.' 'It's no good being sarcastic. I think Miss Russell knows more about Mr Ackroyd's death than she is prepared to admit.' Caroline leaned back triumphantly in her chair.
'Do you really think so?' I said absently.
'You are very dull today, James. No animation about you.
It's that liver of yours.' Our conversation then dealt with purely personal matters.
The paragraph inspired by Poirot duly appeared in our daily paper the next morning. I was in the dark as to its purpose, but its effect on Caroline was immense.
She began by stating, most untruly, that she had said as much all along. I raised my eyebrows, but did not argue.
Caroline, however, must have felt a prick of conscience, for she went on: 'I mayn't have actually mentioned Liverpool, but I knew he'd try to get away to America. That's what Crippen did.' 'Without much success,' I reminded her.
'Poor boy, and so they've caught him. I consider, James, that it's your duty to see that he isn't hung.' 'What do you expect me to do?' 'Why, you're a medical man, aren't you? You've known him from a boy upwards. Not mentally responsible. That's the line to take, clearly. I read only the other day that they're very happy in Broadmoor - it's quite like a highclass club.' But Caroline's words had reminded me of something.
'I never knew that Poirot had an imbecile nephew?' I said curiously.
'Didn't you? Oh, he told me all about it. Poor lad. It's a great grief to all the family. They've kept him at home so far, but it's getting to such a pitch that they're afraid he'll have to go into some kind of institution.' 'I suppose you know pretty well everything there is to know about Poirot's family by this time,' I said, exasperated.
'Pretty well,' said Caroline complacently. 'It's a great relief to people to be able to tell all their troubles to someone.' 'It might be,' I said, 'if they were ever
allowed to do so spontaneously. Whether they enjoy having confidences screwed out of them by force is another matter.' Caroline merely looked at me with an air of a Christian martyr enjoying martyrdom.
'You are so self-contained, James,' she said. 'You hate speaking out, or parting with any information yourself, and you think everybody else must be just like you. I should hope that I never screw confidences out of anybody. For instance, if M. Poirot comes in this afternoon, as he said he might do, I shall not dream of asking him who it was arrived at his house early this morning.' 'Early this morning?' I queried.
'Very early,' said Caroline. 'Before the milk came. I just happened to be looking out of the window - the blind was flapping. It was a man. He came in a closed car, and he was all muffled up. I couldn't get a glimpse of his face. But I will tell you my idea, and you'll see that I'm right.' 'What's your idea?' Caroline dropped her voice mysteriously.
'A Home Office expert,' she breathed.
'A Home Office expert,' I said, amazed. 'My dear Caroline!' 'Mark my words, James, you'll see that I'm right. That Russell woman was here that morning after your poisons.
Roger Ackroyd might easily have been poisoned in his food that night.' I laughed out loud.
'Nonsense,' I cried. 'He was stabbed in the neck. You know that as well as I do.' 'After death, James,' said Caroline; 'to make a false clue.' 'My good woman,' I said, 'I examined the body, and I know what I'm talking about. That wound wasn't inflicted after death - it was the cause of death, and you need make no mistake about it.' Caroline merely continued to look omniscient, which so annoyed me that I went on: 'Perhaps you will tell me, Caroline, if I have a medical degree or if I have not?' 'You have the medical degree, I dare say, James - at least, I mean I know you have. But you've no imagination whatever.'
'Having endowed you with a treble portion, there was none left over for me,' I said drily.
I was amused to see Caroline's manoeuvres that afternoon when Poirot duly arrived. My sister, without asking a direct question, skirted the subject of the mysterious guest in every way imaginable. By the twinkle in Poirot's eyes, I saw that he realized her object. He remained blandly impervious, and blocked her bowling so successfully that she herself was at a loss how to proceed.
Having, I suspect, enjoyed the little game, he rose to his feet and suggested a walk.
'It is that I need to reduce the figure a little,' he explained. 'You will come with me, doctor? And perhaps later. Miss Caroline will give us some tea.' Delighted,' said Caroline. 'Won't your - er - guest come in also?' 'You are too kind,' said Poirot. 'But no, my friend reposes himself. Soon you must make his acquaintance.' 'Quite an old friend of yours, so somebody told me,' said Caroline, making one last valiant effort.
'Did they?' murmured Poirot. 'Well, we must start.' Our tramp took us in the direction of Fernly. I had guessed beforehand that it might do so. I was beginning to understand Poirot's methods. Every little irrelevancy had a bearing upon the whole.
'I have a commission for you, my friend,' he said at last.
'Tonight, at my house. I desire to have a little conference.
You will attend, will you not?' 'Certainly,' I said.
'Good. I need also those in the house - that is to say: Mrs Ackroyd, Mademoiselle Flora, Major Blunt, Mr Raymond. I want you to be my ambassador. This little reunion is fixed for nine o'clock. You will ask them - yes?' 'With pleasure; but why not ask them yourself?' 'Because they will then put the questions: Why? What for? They will demand what my idea is. And, as you know, my friend, I much dislike to have to explain my little ideas until the time comes.' I smiled a little.
'My friend Hastings, he of whom I told you, used to say of me that I was the human oyster. But he was unjust. Of facts, I keep nothing to myself. But to everyone his own interpretation of them.' 'When do you want me to do this?' 'Now, if you will. We are close to the house.' 'Aren't you coming in?' 'No, me, I will promenade myself in the grounds. I will rejoin you by the lodge gates in a quarter of an hour's time.' I nodded, and set off on my task. The only member of the family at home proved to be Mrs Ackroyd, who was sipping an early cup of tea. She received me very graciously.
'So grateful to you, doctor,' she murmured, 'for clearing up that little matter with M. Poirot. But life is one trouble after another. You have heard about Flora, of course?' 'What exactly?' I asked cautiously.
'This new engagement. Flora and Hector Blunt. Of course not such a good match as Ralph would have been.
But after all, happiness comes first. What dear Flora needs is an older man - someone steady annd reliable, and then Hector is really a very distinguished man in his way. You saw the news of Ralph's arrest in the paper this morning?' 'Yes,' I said, 'I did.' 'Horrible.' Mrs Ackroyd closed her eyes and shuddered.
'Geoffrey Raymond was in a terrible way. Rang up Liverpool. But they wouldn't tell him anything at the police station there. In fact, they said they hadn't arrested Ralph at all. Mr Raymond insists that it's all a mistake - a ~ what do they call it? - canard of the newspaper's. I've forbidden it to be mentioned before the servants. Such a terrible disgrace.
Fancy if Flora had actually been married to him.' Mrs Ackroyd shut her eyes in anguish. I began to wonder how soon I should be able to deliver Poirot's invitation.
Before I had time to speak, Mrs Ackroyd was off again.
'You were here yesterday, weren't you, with that dreadful Inspector Raglan? Brute of a man - he terrified Flora into saying she took that money from poor Roger's room. And the matter was so simple, really. The dear child wanted to borrow a few pounds, didn't like to disturb her uncle since he'd given strict orders against it. But knowing where he kept his notes she went there and took what she needed.' 'Is that Flora's account of the matter?' I asked.
'My dear doctor, you know what girls are nowadays. So easily acted on by suggestion. You, of course, know all about hypnosis and that sort of thing. The inspector shouts at her, says the word "steal" over and over again, until the poor child gets an inhibition - or is it a complex? - I always mix up those two words - and actually thinks herself that she has stolen the money. I saw at once how it was. But I can't be too thankful for the whole misunderstanding in one way - it seems to have brought those two together - Hector and Flora, I mean. And I assure you that I have been very much worried about Flora in the past: why, at one time I actually thought there was going to be some kind of understanding between her and young Raymond. Just think of it!' Mrs Ackroyd's voice rose in shrill horror. 'A private secretary - with practically no means of his own.' 'It would have been a severe blow to you,' I said. 'Now, Mrs Ackroyd, I've got a message for you from M. Hercule Poirot.' 'For me?' Mrs Ackroyd looked quite alarmed.
I hastened to reassure her, and I explained what Poirot wanted.
'Certainly,' said Mrs Ackroyd rather doubtfully. 'I suppose we must come if M. Poirot says so. But what is it all about? I like to know beforehand.' I assured the lady truthfully that I myself did not know any more than she did.
'Very well,' said Mrs Ackroyd at last, rather grudgingly, 'I will tell the others, and we will be there at nine o'clock.' Thereupon I took my leave, and joined Poirot at the agreed meeting-place.
'I've been longer than a quarter of an hour, I'm afraid,' I remarked. 'But once that good lady starts talking it's a matter of the utmost difficulty to get a word in edgeways.' 'It is of no matter,' said Poirot. 'The, I have been well amused. This park is magnificent.' We set off homewards. When we arrived, to our great surprise Caroline, who had evidently been watching for us, herself opened the door.
She put her finger to her lips. Her face was full of importance and excitement.
'Ursula Bourne,' she said, 'the parlourmaid from Fernly.
She's here! I've put her in the dining-room. She's in a terrible way, poor thing. Says she must see M. Poirot.' For a moment or two the girl looked mutely at Poirot.
Then, her reserve breaking down completely, she nodded her head once, and burst into an outburst of sobs.
Carol
ine pushed past me, and putting her arm round the girl, patted her on the shoulder.
'There, there, my dear,' she said soothingly, 'it will be all right. You'll see - everything will be all right.' Buried under curiosity and scandal-mongering there is a lot of kindness in Caroline. For the moment, even the interest of Poirot's revelation was lost in the sight of the girl's distress.
Presently Ursula sat up and wiped her eyes.
'This is very weak and silly of me,' she said.
'No, no, my child,' said Poirot kindly. 'We can all realize the strain of this last week.' 'It must have been a terrible ordeal,' I said.
'And then to find that you knew,' continued Ursula.
'How did you know? Was it Ralph who told you?' Poirot shook his head.
'You know what brought me to you tonight,' went on the girl. 'This-' She held out a crumpled piece of newspaper, and I recognized the paragraph that Poirot had had inserted.
'It says that Ralph has been arrested. So everything is useless. I need not pretend any longer.' 'Newspaper paragraphs are not always true, mademoiselle,' murmured Poirot, having the grace to look ashamed of himself. 'All the same, I think you will do well to make a clean breast of things. The truth is what we need now.' The girl hesitated, looking at him doubtfully.
'You do not trust me,' said Poirot gently. 'Yet all the same you came here to find me, did you not? Why was that?' 'Because I don't believe that Ralph did it,' said the girl in a very low voice. 'And I think that you are clever, and will find out the truth. And also ' 'Yes?' 'I think you are kind.' Poirot nodded his head several times.
'It is very good that - yes, it is very good. Listen, I do in verity believe that this husband of yours is innocent - but the affair marches badly. If I am to save him, I must know all there is to know - even if it should seem to make the case against him blacker than before.' 'How well you understand,' said Ursula.
'So you will tell me the whole story, will you not? From the beginning.' 'You're not going to send me away, I hope,' said Caroline, settling herself comfortably in an arm-chair. 'What I want to know,' she continued, 'is why this child was masquerading as a parlourmaid?' 'Masquerading?' I queried.
The Murder Of Roger Ackroyd hp-4 Page 17
