The Murder Of Roger Ackroyd | Reading Chapters 20-End

Join me in this 2-hour 14-minute mystery journey. During this time, a relaxing reading of Agatha Christie's The Murder of Roger Ackroyd will disconnect you from your busy mind and help you get swept away in the story, bringing you peace, relaxation, and sleep. Calm, ambient music in the background helps protect you from outside sounds.

This track includes chapters 20-27 (The End)

Together, let's find out what happens in the peaceful English village of King’s Abbot. The widow Ferrars dies from an overdose of Veronal. Not twenty-four hours later, Roger Ackroyd—the man she had planned to marry—is murdered. Hercule Poirot may reach one of the most startling conclusions of his career.

2-hour 14-minute story with an additional 6 minutes of ambient music.

Please note: This track may include some explicit language.

Transcript

Welcome to Restful Journeys.

In this track I will continue reading The Murder of Roger Ackroyd by Agatha Christie.

This will be chapters 20-27.

Please find a comfortable place to sit or lie down and relax.

Take a few moments to clear your mind and allow yourself to listen to these words and help you become calm.

Let's continue with chapter 20,

Miss Russell.

Inspector Raglin had received a bad jolt.

He was not deceived by Blunt's valiant lie any more than we had been.

Our way back to the village was punctuated by his complaints.

This alters everything.

This does.

I don't know whether you've realized it,

Monsieur Pierrot.

I think so,

Yes,

I think so,

Said Pierrot.

You see,

Me,

I have been familiar with the idea for some time.

Inspector Raglin,

Who had only had the idea presented to him a short half hour ago,

Looked at Pierrot unhappily and went on with his discoveries.

Those alibis now,

Worthless,

Absolutely worthless.

Gotta start again,

Find out what everyone was doing from 9.

30 onwards.

9.

30,

That's the time we've got to hang on to.

You were right about the man Kent.

We don't release him yet a while.

Let me see now,

9.

45 at the dog and whistle.

He might have got there in a quarter of an hour if he ran,

It's just possible that it was his voice Mr.

Raymond heard talking to Mr.

Aykroyd,

Asking for money which Mr.

Aykroyd refused.

But one thing's clear,

It wasn't he who sent the telephone message.

The station is half a mile in the other direction,

Over a mile and a half from the dog and whistle,

And he was at the dog and whistle until about ten minutes past ten.

Dang that telephone call,

We always come up against it.

We do indeed,

Agreed Pierrot,

It is curious.

It's just possible that if Captain Payton climbed into his uncle's room and found him there murdered,

He may have sent it.

Got the wind up,

Thought he'd been accused and cleared out,

That's possible,

Isn't it?

Why should he have telephoned?

May have had doubts if the old man was really dead,

Thought he'd get the doctor up there as soon as possible,

But didn't want to give himself away.

Yes,

I say now,

How's that for a theory?

Something in that,

I should say.

The inspector swelled his chest out importantly.

He was so plainly delighted with himself that any words of ours would have been quite superfluous.

We arrived back at my house at this minute and I hurried into my surgery patients,

Who had all been waiting a considerable time,

Leaving Pierrot to walk to the police station with the inspector.

Having dismissed the last patient,

I strolled into the little room at the back of the house,

Which I call my workshop.

I'm rather proud of the homemade wireless setup I turned out.

Caroline hates my workroom,

I keep my tools there and Annie is not allowed to wreak havoc with a dustpan and brush.

I was just adjusting the interior of an alarm clock,

Which had been denounced as wholly unreliable by the household,

When the door opened and Caroline put her head in.

Oh,

There you are,

James,

She said with deep disapproval,

Impiero wants to see you.

Well,

I said rather irritably,

For her sudden entrance had startled me and I had let go of a piece of delicate mechanism.

If he wants to see me,

He can come in here.

In here?

Said Caroline.

That's what I said,

In here.

Caroline gave a sniff of disapproval and retired.

She returned in a moment or two,

Ushering in Pierrot and then retired again,

Shutting the door with a bang.

Aha,

My friend,

Said Pierrot,

Coming forward and rubbing his hands.

You have not got rid of me so easily,

You see?

Finished with the inspector,

I asked.

For the moment,

Yes.

And you,

You have seen all the patients?

Yes.

Pierrot sat down and looked at me,

Tilting his egg-shaped head on one side,

With the air of one who savors a very delicious joke.

You are in error,

He said at last.

You have still one patient to see.

Not you,

I exclaimed in surprise.

Ah,

Not me,

Bien intendu.

Me?

I have the health magnificent.

No,

To tell you the truth,

It is a little complot of mine.

There is someone I wish to see,

You understand?

And at the same time,

It is not necessary that the whole village should intrigue itself about the matter,

Which is what would happen if the lady were seen to come to my house,

For it is a lady.

But to you,

She has already come as a patient before.

Miss Russell,

I exclaimed.

Precisamente.

I wish much to speak with her,

So I send her the little note and make the appointment in your surgery.

You are not annoyed with me?

On the contrary,

I said.

That is,

Presuming I am allowed to be present at the interview.

But naturally,

In your own surgery.

You know,

I said,

Throwing down the pinchers I was holding,

It is extraordinarily intriguing,

The whole thing.

Every new development that arises is like the shake you give to a kaleidoscope.

The thing changes entirely in aspect.

Now,

Why are you so anxious to see Miss Russell?

Pierrot raised his eyebrows.

Surely it is obvious,

He murmured.

There you go again,

I grumbled.

According to you,

Everything is obvious,

But you leave me walking about in a fog.

Pierrot shook his head genially at me.

You mock yourself at me.

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 Raglin,

Startled and incredulous.

I thought for a minute or two.

Perhaps you are right,

I said at last.

All along I felt that Flora was keeping back something,

So the truth,

When it came,

Was subconsciously expected.

It upset Inspector Raglin very much indeed.

Poor man.

Ah,

Poor Siwy,

The poor man must rearrange all his ideas.

I profited by his state of mental chaos to induce him to grant me a little favor.

What was that?

Pierrot took a sheet of notebook from his pocket.

Some words were written on it and he read them aloud.

The police have,

For some days,

Been seeking for Captain Ralph Payton,

The nephew of Mr.

Aykroyd of Fernley Park,

Whose death occurred under such tragic circumstances last Friday.

Captain Payton has been found at Liverpool,

Where he was on the point of embarking for America.

He folded up the piece of paper again.

That,

My friend,

Will be in the newspapers tomorrow morning.

I stared at him,

Dumbfounded.

But it isn't true.

He's not at Liverpool.

Pierrot binged on me.

You have the intelligence so quick.

No,

He has not been found at Liverpool.

Inspector Raglan was very loath to let me send this paragraph to the press,

Especially as I could not take him into my confidence,

But I assured him,

Most solemnly,

That very interesting results would follow in its appearance in print.

So he gave in,

After stipulating that he was,

On no account,

To bear the responsibility.

I stared at Pierrot.

He smiled back at me.

It beats me,

I said at last.

What do you expect to get out of that?

You should employ your little grey cells,

Said Pierrot gravely.

He rose and came across to the bench.

It is that you have really the love of the machinery,

He said,

After inspecting the debris of my labours.

Every man has his hobby.

I immediately drew Pierrot's attention to my homemade wireless.

Finding him sympathetic,

I showed him one or two little inventions of my own,

Trifling things,

But useful in the house.

Decidedly,

Said Pierrot,

You should be an inventor by trade,

Not a doctor,

But I hear the bell,

That is your patient.

Let us go into surgery.

Once before I had been struck by the remnants of beauty in the housekeeper's face.

This morning I was struck anew.

Very simply dressed in black,

Tall,

Upright and independent as ever,

With her big dark eyes and an unwanted flush of colour in her usually pale cheeks.

I realise that as a girl she must have been startling handsome.

Good morning,

Mademoiselle,

Said Pierrot.

Will you be seated?

Dr.

Shepherd is so kind as to permit me the use of his surgery for a little conversation I am anxious to have with you.

Miss Russell sat down with her usual composure.

If she felt any inward agitation,

It did not display itself in any outward manifestation.

It seems a queer way of doing things,

If you will allow me to say so,

She remarked.

Miss Russell,

I have news to give to you.

Indeed?

Charles Kent has been arrested at Liverpool.

Not a muscle of her face moved.

She merely opened her eyes a trifle wider and asked with a tinge of defiance.

Well,

What of it?

But at that moment it came to me,

The resemblance that had haunted me all along,

Something familiar in the defiance of Charles Kent's manner.

The two voices,

One rough and coarse,

The other painfully ladylike,

Were strangely the same in timbre.

It was of Miss Russell that I had been reminded that night outside the gates of Fernley Park.

I looked at Pierrot,

Full of my discovery,

And he gave me an imperceptible nod.

In answer to Miss Russell's question,

He threw out his hands in a thoroughly French gesture.

I thought you might be interested.

That is all,

He said mildly.

Well,

Not particularly,

Said Miss Russell.

Who is this Charles Kent anyway?

He is a man,

Mademoiselle,

Who was at Fernley on the night of the murder.

Really?

Fortunately for him,

He has an alibi.

At a quarter to ten he was at a public house a mile from here.

Lucky for him,

Commented Miss Russell.

But we still do not know what he was doing at Fernley.

Who it was he went to meet,

For instance.

I am afraid I can't help you at all,

Said the housekeeper politely.

Nothing came to my ears,

If that is all.

She made a tentative movement as though to rise.

Pierrot stopped her.

It is not quite all,

He said smoothly.

This morning fresh developments have arisen.

It seems now that Mr.

Aykroyd was murdered,

Not a quarter to ten,

But before.

Between ten minutes to nine,

When Dr.

Shepard left,

And a quarter to ten.

I saw the color drain from the housekeeper's face,

Leaving it dead white.

She leaned forward,

Her figure swaying.

But Miss Aykroyd said,

Miss Aykroyd said,

Miss Aykroyd has admitted that she was lying.

She was never in the study at all that evening.

Then,

Then it would seem that in this Charles Kent we have the man we are looking for.

He came to Fernley,

Can give no account of what he was doing there.

I can tell you what he was doing there.

He never touched a hair of old Aykroyd's head.

He never went near the study.

He didn't do it,

I tell you.

She was leaning forward.

That iron self-control was broken through at last.

Terror and desperation were in her face.

M.

Pierrot,

M.

Pierrot,

Don't you believe me?

Pierrot 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 Fernley.

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 Pierrot to know things.

I know that you have 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 to let him come to the house.

I wrote to the address he gave me and said I would meet him in the summer house 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 in about ten minutes past nine.

I didn't want the service to see me so I slipped out through the drawing room window.

As I came back I met Dr.

Shepard 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 Pierrot.

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 Pierrot,

Interrupting her.

In this matter I must have the whole truth.

What you tell us need never go beyond these four walls.

Dr.

Shepard 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 color 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 your 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 drugs.

I managed to pay his passage out of Canada.

I didn't hear of him for a year or two.

Then,

Somehow or the 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 Fernley,

He said.

I dared not to 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 a housekeeper.

So I wrote to him in the way I have just told you.

And in the morning,

You came to see Dr.

Shepard?

Yes,

I wondered if something could be done.

He was not a bad boy,

Before he took drugs.

I see,

Said Pierrot.

Now,

Let us go on with the story.

He came that night to the summer house?

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 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 in.

By the path that joined the drive just inside the lodge gates.

Pierrot 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 around the side door.

It was then just on half past nine,

I tell you.

Pierrot nodded again.

He made a note or two in a microscopic pocket book.

I think that is all,

He said thoughtfully.

Ought I,

She hesitated.

I ought 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 the murder.

Circumstances may arise which will render your story unnecessary.

Miss Russell rose.

Thank you very much,

M.

Pierrot,

She said.

You have been very kind,

Very kind indeed.

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 9.

30 could not possibly have been your son.

Be of good courage,

Mademoiselle.

All will yet be well.

Miss Russell departed.

Pierrot and I were left together.

So that's that,

I said.

Every time we come back to Ralph Payton.

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 of 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 you to ask 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 her son or a brother or some other desirable male relation.

Ah,

But I must go.

It is the time of the lunch.

Stay and lunch with us,

I suggested.

Pierrot 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 Pierrot.

That concludes Chapter 20,

Miss Russell.

Chapter 21,

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 already come for and that I didn't.

Pumping you,

James,

Said Caroline.

Pumping you in the most shameless manner,

I've not a 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.

Pierrot'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 Pierrot,

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 might 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 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 a high-class club.

But Caroline's words had reminded me of something.

I never knew that Pierrot 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.

Suppose you know pretty well everything there is to know about Pierrot'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 the air of a Christian martyr enjoying martyrdom.

You are so self-contained,

James,

She said.

You hate to speak 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 Impierrot 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 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 at 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 word,

James.

You'll see that I'm right.

That Russo woman was here that morning after your poisons.

Roger Aykroyd 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 to 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 have I not?

You have the medical degree,

I dare say,

James.

At least,

I mean,

I know you have.

But you've no imagination whatsoever.

Having endowed you with a treble portion,

There was none left over for me,

I said dryly.

I was so amused to notice Caroline's maneuvers that afternoon when Pierrot duly arrived.

My sister,

Without asking a direct question,

Skirted the subject of the mysterious guest in every way imaginable.

By the twinkle in Pierrot'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,

Quietly 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 also?

You are too kind,

Said Pierrot.

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 Pierrot.

Well,

We must start.

Our tramp took us in the direction of Fernley.

I'd guessed beforehand that it might do so.

I was beginning to understand Pierrot'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 all those in the house,

That is to say,

Mrs.

Ackroyd,

Mademoiselle Flora,

Major Blunt,

M.

Raymond.

I want you to be my ambassador.

This little reunion is fixed for nine o'clock.

You will ask them,

Yes?

My 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 like.

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 see you,

Doctor,

She murmured,

For clearing up that little matter with Impiero.

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 and 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.

Jeffrey 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 newspapers.

I 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 Pierrot's invitation.

Before I had time to speak,

Mrs.

Ackroyd was off again.

You were here yesterday,

Weren't you?

With that dreadful Inspector Raglin?

Brute of a man.

He's 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 accounts 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 it is a complex.

I always mix up those two words.

And actually thinks herself that she has stolen the money.

I saw it 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.

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 Pierrot.

For me?

Mrs.

Ackroyd looked quite alarmed.

I hastened to reassure her and explained what Pierrot wanted.

Certainly,

Said Mrs.

Ackroyd rather doubtfully.

I suppose we must come if M.

Pierrot says so.

But what is it all about?

I'd 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 Pierrot 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 edgewise.

It is of no matter,

Said Pierrot.

Me,

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 fingers to her lips.

Her face was full of importance and excitement.

Ursula Bourne,

She said.

The parlor mate from Fernley,

She's here.

I've put her in the dining room.

She's in a terrible way,

Poor thing.

Says she must see M.

Pierrot at once.

I've done all I could,

Taken her a cup of hot tea.

It really goes to one's heart to see anyone in such a state.

In the dining room,

Said Pierrot.

This way,

I said,

And flung open the door.

Ursula Bourne was sitting by the table.

Her arms were just spread out in front of her,

And she had evidently just lifted her head from where it had been buried.

Her eyes were red with weeping.

Ursula Bourne,

I murmured,

But Pierrot went past me with outstretched hands.

No,

He said.

That is not quite right,

I think.

It is not Ursula Bourne,

Is it,

My child,

But Ursula Payton,

Mrs.

Ralph Payton.

That concludes chapter twenty-one,

The paragraph in the paper.

Chapter twenty-two,

Ursula's Story For a moment or two,

The girl looked mutely at Pierrot.

Then,

Her reserve breaking down completely,

She nodded her head once and burst into an outburst of sobs.

Caroline pushed past me and putting her arm around 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 Pierrot's relation 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 Pierrot 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?

Pierrot 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 Pierrot had had inserted.

It says that Ralph has been arrested,

So everything is useless.

I need not to pretend any longer.

Newspaper paragraphs are not always true,

Mademoiselle.

Murmured Pierrot,

Having the grace to look ashamed of himself.

All the time,

I think you will do well to make a clean breast of things.

The truth is what we need to know.

The girl hesitated,

Looking at him doubtfully.

You do not trust me,

Said Pierrot 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 little 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're kind.

Pierrot 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 armchair.

What I want to know,

She continued,

Is why this child was masquerading as a parlor mate.

Masquerading?

I queried.

That's what I said.

Why did you do it,

Child?

For a wager?

For a living,

Said Ursula dryly.

And encouraged,

She began the story which I reproduced here in my own words.

Ursula Borne,

It seemed,

Was one of a family of seven impoverished Irish gentlefolk.

On the death of her father,

Most of the girls were cast out into the world to earn their own living.

Ursula's eldest sister was married to Captain Folliet.

It was she whom I had seen that Sunday,

And the cause of her embarrassment was clear enough now.

Determined to earn her living,

And not attracted to the idea of being a nursery governess,

The one profession open to an untrained girl,

Ursula preferred the job of parlor maid.

She scorned to label herself a lady parlor maid.

She would be the real thing,

Her reference being supplied by her sister.

At Fernley,

Despite an aloofness which,

As has been seen,

Caused some comment,

She was a success at her job,

Quick,

Competent,

And thorough.

I enjoyed the work,

She explained,

And I had plenty of time to myself.

And then came her meeting with Ralph Payton,

And the love affair which cumulated in a secret marriage.

Ralph had persuaded her into that,

Somewhat against her will.

He had declared that his stepfather would not hear of his marrying a penniless girl.

Better to be married secretly,

And break the news to him at some later and more favorable minute.

And so the deed was done,

And Ursula Bourne became Ursula Payton.

Ralph had declared that he meant to pay off his debts,

Find a job,

And then,

When he was in a position to support her,

And independent of his adopted father,

They would break the news to him.

But to people like Ralph Payton,

Turning over a new leaf is easier in theory than in practice.

He hoped that his stepfather,

While still in ignorance of the marriage,

Might be persuaded to pay his debts,

And put him on his feet again.

But the revelation of the amount of Ralph's liabilities merely enraged Roger Ackroyd,

And he refused to do anything at all.

Some months passed,

And then Ralph was bitten once more to Fernlee.

Roger Ackroyd did not beat about the bush.

It was the desire of his heart that Ralph should marry Flora,

And he put the matter plainly before the young man.

And there it was,

That the innate weakness of Ralph Payton showed himself.

As always,

He grasped at the easy,

The immediate solution.

As far as I can make out,

Neither Flora nor Ralph made any pretense of love.

It was,

On both sides,

A business arrangement.

Roger Ackroyd dictated his wishes.

They agreed to them.

Flora accepted a chance of liberty,

Money,

And an enlarged horizon.

Ralph,

Of course,

Was playing a different game.

But he was in a very awkward hole financially.

He seized at the chance.

His debts would be paid.

He could start again with a clean sheet.

His was not a nature to envisage the future,

But I gather that he saw vaguely the engagement with Flora being broken off after a decent interval had elapsed.

Both Flora and he stipulated that it should be kept a secret for the present.

He was anxious to conceal it from Ursula.

He felt instinctively that her nature,

Strong and resolute,

With an inherent distaste for duplicity,

Was not one to welcome such a course.

Then came the crucial moment when Roger Ackroyd,

Always high-handed,

Decided to announce the engagement.

He said no word of his intention to Ralph,

Only to Flora,

And Flora,

Apathetic,

Raised no objection.

On Ursula,

The news fell like a bombshell.

Summoned by her,

Ralph came hurriedly down from town.

They met in the wood,

Where part of their conversation was overheard by my sister.

Ralph implored her to keep silent for a little while longer.

Ursula was equally determined to have done with concealments.

She would tell Mr.

Ackroyd the truth without any further delay.

Husband and wife parted acrimoniously.

Ursula,

Steadfast on her purpose,

Sought an interview with Roger Ackroyd that very afternoon and revealed the truth to him.

Their interview was a stormy one.

It might have been even more stormy had not Roger Ackroyd been already obsessed with his own troubles.

It was bad enough,

However.

Ackroyd was not the kind of man to forgive the deceit that had been practiced upon him.

His rancor was mainly directed at Ralph,

But Ursula came in for her share,

Since he regarded her as a girl who had deliberately tried to entrap the adopted son of a very wealthy man.

Unforgivable things were said on both sides.

That same evening,

Ursula met Ralph by appointment in the small summer house,

Stealing out from the house by the side door in order to do so.

Their interview was made up of reproaches on both sides.

Ralph charged Ursula with having irretrievably ruined his prospects by her ill-timed revelation.

Ursula reproached Ralph with his duplicity.

They parted at last,

And over half an hour later came the discovery of Roger Ackroyd's body.

Since that night,

Ursula had never seen nor heard from Ralph.

As the story unfolded itself,

I realized more and more what a damning series of facts it was.

Alive,

Ackroyd could hardly have failed to alter his will.

I knew him well enough to realize that to do so would be his first thought.

His death came in the nick of time for Ralph and Ursula Payton.

Small wonder the girl had held her tongue and played her part so consistently.

My meditations were interrupted.

It was Pierrot's voice speaking,

And I knew from the gravity of his tone that he too was fully alive to the implications of the position.

Madamoiselle,

I must ask you one question,

And you must answer it truthfully,

For on it everything may hang.

What time was it when you parted from Captain Ralph Payton in the summer house?

Now,

Take a little minute so that your answer may be very exact.

The girl gave a half laugh,

Bitter enough and all conscious.

Do you think I haven't gone over that again and again in my own mind?

It was just half past nine when I went out to meet him.

Major Blunt was walking up and down the terrace,

So I had to go round through the bushes to avoid him.

It must have been about twenty-seven minutes to ten when I reached the summer house.

Ralph was waiting for me.

I was with him ten minutes,

Not longer,

For it was just a quarter to ten when I got back to the house.

I saw now the insistence of her question the other day.

If only Aykroyd could have been proved to have been killed before a quarter to ten and not after.

I saw the reflection of that thought in Pierrot's next question.

Who left the summer house first?

I did.

Leaving Ralph Payton in the summer house?

Yes.

But you don't think?

Mademoiselle,

It is of no importance what I think.

What did you do when you got back to the house?

I went up to my room.

And stayed there until when?

Until about ten o'clock?

Is there anyone who can prove that?

Prove?

That I was in my room,

You mean?

Oh,

No.

But surely.

Oh,

I see.

They might think.

They might think.

I saw the drawing horror in her eyes.

Pierrot finished the sentence for her.

That it was you who entered by the window and stabbed Mr.

Aykroyd as he sat in the chair.

Yes.

They might just think that.

Nobody but a fool would think such a thing,

Said Caroline indignantly.

She patted Ursula on the shoulder.

The girl had had her face hidden in her hands.

Horrible,

She was murmuring.

Horrible.

Caroline gave her a friendly shake.

Don't worry,

My dear,

She said.

Impierot doesn't think that really.

As for that husband of yours,

I don't think much of him.

And I tell you so candidly,

Running away and leaving you to face the music?

But Ursula shook her head energetically.

Oh,

No,

She cried.

It wasn't like that at all.

Ralph would not run away on his own account.

I see now.

If he heard of his stepfather's murder,

He might think himself that I had done it.

He wouldn't think such a thing,

Said Caroline.

I was so cruel to him that night.

So hard and bitter.

I wouldn't listen to what he was trying to say.

Wouldn't believe that he really cared.

I just stood there,

Telling him what I thought of him and saying the coldest,

Cruelest things that came into my mind,

Trying my best to hurt him.

Do him no harm,

Said Caroline.

Never worry about what you say to a man.

They're so conceited that they never believe you mean it,

If it's unflattering.

Ursula went on,

Nervously twisting and untwisting her hands.

When the murder was discovered and he didn't come forward,

I was terribly upset.

Just for a moment I wondered.

But then,

I knew he couldn't do it.

He couldn't.

But I wished he would come forward and say openly that he'd had nothing to do with it.

I knew that he was very fond of Dr.

Shepard and I fancied that perhaps Dr.

Shepard might know where he was hiding.

She turned to me.

That's why I said what I did to you that day.

I thought,

If you knew where he was,

You might pass on the message to him.

I?

I exclaimed.

Why should James know where he was?

Demanded Caroline sharply.

It was very unlikely,

I know,

Admitted Ursula.

But Ralph had often spoke of Dr.

Shepard and I knew that he would be likely to consider him as his best friend in King's Abbot.

My dear child,

I said,

I have not the least idea what Ralph Payton is at the present moment.

That is true enough,

Said Pierrot.

But,

Ursula held out the newspaper cutting in a puzzled fashion.

Ah,

That,

Said Pierrot,

Slightly embarrassed.

A bagatelli,

Mademoiselle.

A rein d'etat.

Not for a moment do I believe that Ralph Payton has been arrested.

But then,

Began the girl slowly.

Pierrot went on quickly.

There is one last thing I should like to know.

Did Captain Payton wear shoes or boots that night?

Ursula shook her head.

I can't remember.

A pity.

But how should you?

Now,

Madame.

He smiled at her,

His head on one side,

His forefinger wagging eloquently.

No questions.

Do not torment yourself.

Be of good courage and place your faith in Hercule Pierrot.

That concludes Chapter 22,

Ursula's Story.

Chapter 23,

Pierrot's Little Reunion And now,

Said Caroline,

Rising,

That child is coming upstairs to lie down.

Don't you worry,

My dear.

M.

Pierrot will do everything he can for you.

Be sure of that.

I ought to go back to Fernley,

Said Ursula uncertainly.

But Caroline silenced her protest with a firm hand.

Nonsense.

You're in my hands for the time being.

You'll stay here for the present anyway,

Eh,

M.

Pierrot?

It will be the best plan,

Agreed the little Belgian.

This evening,

I shall want Mademoiselle,

I beg her pardon,

Madame,

To attend my little reunion.

Nine o'clock at my house.

It is most necessary that she should be there.

Caroline nodded and went with Ursula out of the room.

The door shut behind them.

Pierrot dropped down into a chair.

So far,

So good,

He said.

Things are straightening themselves out.

They're getting to look blacker and blacker against Ralph Payton,

I observed gloomily.

Pierrot 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.

What is it?

I asked.

It is that there are moments when a great longing for my friend Hastings comes over me.

That is the friend of whom I spoke to you,

The one who resides now in the Argentine.

Always,

When I have had a big case,

He has been by my side and he has helped me.

Yes,

Often he has helped me.

For he had a knack,

That one,

Of stumbling over the truth unawares,

Without noticing it himself.

Bien entendu.

At times he has said something particularly foolish and behold that foolish remark has revealed the truth to me.

And then,

Too,

It was his practice to keep a written record of the cases that proved interesting.

I gave a slight embarrassed cough.

As far as that goes,

I began and then stopped.

Pierrot sat upright in his chair.

His eyes sparkled.

But,

Yes,

What is it that you would say?

Well,

As a matter of fact,

I have read some of Captain Hastings' narratives and I thought,

Why not try my hand at something of the same kind?

Seemed a pity not to.

Unique opportunity.

Probably the only time I will be mixed up with anything of this kind.

I felt myself getting hotter and hotter and more and more incoherent as I floundered through the above speech.

Pierrot sprang from his chair.

I had a moment's terror that he was going to embrace me,

French fashion.

But mercifully he refrained.

But this is magnificent.

You have then written down your impressions of the case as you went along?

I nodded.

Impotent.

Cried Pierrot.

Let me see them this instant.

I was not quite prepared for such a sudden demand.

I racked my brains to remember certain details.

I hope you won't mind,

I stammered.

I may have been a little,

Er,

Personal now and then?

Oh,

I comprehend perfectly.

You have referred to me as a comic as perhaps ridiculous now and then?

It matters not at all.

Hastings,

He also was not always polite.

Me,

I have the mind above such trivialities.

Still somewhat doubtful,

I rummaged in the drawers of my desk and produced an untidy pile of manuscript which I handed over to him.

With an eye on possible publication in the future,

I had divided the work into chapters and the night before I had brought it up to date with an account of Miss Russell's visit.

Pierrot had therefore twenty chapters.

I left him with them.

I was obliged to go out to a case at some distance away.

It was past eight o'clock when I got back to be greeted with a plate of hot dinner on a tray and the announcement that Pierrot and my sister had supped together at half past seven and that the former had then gone to my workshop to finish his reading of the manuscript.

I hope,

James,

Said my sister,

That you've been careful in what you said about me.

My jaw dropped.

I had not been careful at all.

Not that it matters much,

Said Caroline,

Reading my expression correctly.

And Pierrot will know it to think.

He understands me much better than you do.

I went into the shop.

Pierrot was sitting by the window.

The manuscript lay neatly piled on a chair beside him.

He laid his hand on it and spoke.

Eh,

Bien,

He said.

I congratulate you on your modesty.

Oh,

I said,

Rather taken aback.

And on your reticence,

He added.

I said,

Oh,

Again.

Not so did Hastings write,

Continued my friend.

On every page,

Many,

Many times was the word I.

What he thought,

What he did.

But you,

You have kept your personality in the background.

Only once or twice does it uptrude in scenes of home life,

Shall we say.

I blushed a little before the twinkle in his eye.

What do you really think of the stuff?

I asked nervously.

You want my candid opinion?

Yes.

Pierrot laid his jesting manner aside.

A very meticulous and accurate account,

He said kindly.

You have recorded all the facts faithfully and exactly,

Though you have shown yourself becomingly reticent as to your own share in them.

And it has helped you?

Yes,

I may say that it has helped me considerably.

Come,

We must go over to my house and set the stage for my little performance.

Caroline was in the hall.

I think she hoped that she might be invited to accompany us.

Pierrot dealt with the situation tactfully.

I should much like to have you present,

Mademoiselle,

He said regretfully.

But at this juncture,

It would not be wise.

You see,

All these people tonight are suspects.

Among them,

I shall find the person who killed Mr.

Aykroyd.

You really believe that?

I said incredulously.

I see that you do not,

Said Pierrot dryly.

Not yet do you appreciate Hercule Pierrot at his true worth.

At that minute,

Ursula came down the staircase.

You are ready,

My child,

Said Pierrot.

That is good.

We will go to my house together.

Mademoiselle Caroline,

Believe me,

I do everything possible to render you service.

Good evening.

We went out,

Leaving Caroline,

Rather like a dog who had been refused a walk,

Standing on the front doorstep,

Gazing after us.

The sitting room at the Larches had been got ready.

On the table were various syrups and glasses,

Also a plate of biscuits.

Several chairs had been brought in from the other room.

Pierrot ran to and fro,

Rearranging things,

Pulling out a chair here,

Altering the position of a lamp there,

Occasionally stooping to straighten one of the mats that covered the floor.

He was especially fussy over the lighting.

The lamps were arranged in such a way as to throw a clear light on the side of the room where the chairs were grouped,

At the same time leaving the other end of the room where I presumed Pierrot himself would sit in a dim twilight.

Ursula and I watched him.

Presently a bell was heard.

They arrive,

Said Pierrot.

Good,

All is in readiness.

The door opened and the party from Friendly Park filed in.

Pierrot went toward and greeted Mrs.

Aykroyd and Flora.

It is most good of you to come,

He said,

And Major Blunt and Mr.

Raymond.

The secretary was debonair as ever.

What's this great idea?

He said,

Laughing.

Some scientific machine?

Do we have bands around our wrists which register guilty heartbeats?

There is such an invention,

Isn't there?

I have read of it,

Yes,

Admitted Pierrot,

But me,

I am old-fashioned.

I use the old methods.

I work only with the little grey cells.

Now,

Let us begin,

But first I have an announcement to make to you all.

He took Ursula's hand and drew her forward.

This lady is Mrs.

Ralph Payton.

She was married to Captain Ralph Payton last March.

A little shriek burst from Mrs.

Aykroyd.

Ralph?

Married?

Last March?

Oh,

But it's absurd.

How could he be?

She stared at Ursula as though she had never seen her before.

Married to Bourne?

She said.

Really,

Imperio,

I don't believe you.

Ursula flushed and began to speak,

But Flora forestalled her.

Going quickly to the other girl's side,

She passed her hand through her arm.

You must not mind our being surprised,

She said.

You see,

We had no idea of such a thing.

You and Ralph have kept your secret very well.

I am very glad about it.

You are too kind,

Mrs.

Aykroyd,

Said Ursula in a low voice.

And you have every right to be exceedingly angry.

Ralph behaved very badly,

Especially to you.

You needn't worry about that,

Said Flora,

Giving her arm a consoling little pat.

Ralph was in a corner and I took the only way out.

I should probably have done the same in his place.

I do think he might have trusted me with the secret,

Though.

I wouldn't have let him down.

Imperio rapped gently on the table and cleared his throat significantly.

The board meeting's going to begin,

Said Flora.

Imperio hints that we mustn't talk,

But just tell me one thing.

Where is Ralph?

You must know if anyone does.

But I don't,

Cried Ursula,

Almost in a wail.

That's just it.

I don't.

Isn't he detained in Liverpool?

Asked Raymond.

It's said so in the paper.

He's not in Liverpool,

Said Pierrot shortly.

In fact,

I remarked,

No one knows where he is.

Expecting Hercule Pierrot,

Eh?

Said Raymond.

Pierrot replied seriously to the other's banter.

Me?

I know everything.

Remember that?

Geoffrey Raymond lifted his eyebrows.

Everything?

He whistled.

Phew,

That's a tall order.

Do you mean to say you can really guess where Ralph Payton is hiding?

I asked incredulously.

You call it guessing.

I call it knowing,

My friend.

In Cranchester?

I hazard.

No,

Replied Pierrot gravely.

Not in Cranchester.

He said no more,

But at a gesture from him,

The assembled party took their seats.

As they did so,

The door opened once more and two other people came in and sat down near the door.

They were Parker and the housekeeper.

The number is complete,

Said Pierrot.

Everyone is here.

There was a ring of satisfaction in his tone and with the sound of it I saw a ripple of something like uneasiness pass over all those faces grouped at the other end of the room.

There was a suggestion in all this as of a trap.

A trap that had closed.

Mrs.

Ackroyd,

Miss Flora Ackroyd,

Major Blunt,

Mr.

Geoffrey Raymond,

Mrs.

Ralph Payton,

John Parker,

Elizabeth Russell.

He laid the paper down on the table.

What's the meaning of all this,

Began Raymond.

The list I have just read,

Said Pierrot,

Is a list of suspected persons.

Every one of you present had the opportunity to kill Mr.

Ackroyd.

With a cry,

Mrs.

Ackroyd sprang up,

Her throat working.

I don't like it,

She wailed.

I don't like it.

I would much prefer to go home.

You cannot go home,

Madame,

Said Pierrot sternly,

Until you have heard what I have to say.

He paused a moment,

Then cleared his throat.

I will start at the beginning.

When Miss Ackroyd asked me to investigate the case,

I went up to Fernley Park with the good Dr.

Shepard.

I walked with him along the terrace,

Where I was shown the footprints on the windowsill.

From there,

Inspector Raglan took me along the path which leads to the drive.

My eye was caught by a little summer house,

And I searched it thoroughly.

I found two things.

A scrap of starched cambric and an empty goose quill.

The scrap of cambric immediately suggested to me a maid's apron.

When Inspector Raglan showed me his list of people in the house,

I noticed at once that one of the maids,

Ursula Bourne,

The parlor maid,

Had no real alibi.

According to her own story,

She was in her bedroom from 9.

30 until 10.

But supposing that instead,

She was in the summer house.

If so,

She must have gone there to meet someone.

Now,

We know from Dr.

Shepard that someone from outside did come to the house that night,

The stranger whom he met just by the gate.

At a first glance,

It would seem that our problem was solved and that the stranger went to the summer house to meet Ursula Bourne.

It was fairly certain that he did go to the summer house because of the goose quill.

That suggested at once,

To my mind,

A taker of drugs and one who had acquired the habit on the other side of the Atlantic where sniffing snow is more common than in this country.

The man whom Dr.

Shepard met had an American accent,

Which fitted and with that supposition.

But I was held up by one point.

The times did not fit.

Ursula Bourne could certainly not have gone to the summer house before 9.

30,

Whereas the man must have got there by a few minutes past 9.

I could,

Of course,

Assume that he'd waited there for half an hour.

The only alternative supposition was that there had been two separate meetings in the summer house that night.

Eh,

Bien.

As soon as I went into the alternative,

I found several significant facts.

I discovered that Miss Russell,

The housekeeper,

Had visited Dr.

Shepard that morning and had displayed a good deal of interest in cures for victims of the drug habit.

Taking that into conjunction with the goose quill,

I assumed that the man in question came to Fernley to meet the housekeeper and not Ursula Bourne.

Who,

Then,

Did Ursula Bourne come to the rendezvous to meet?

I was not long in doubt.

First,

I found a ring,

A wedding ring,

With From R and a date inside it.

Then I learnt that Ralph Payton had been seen coming up the path which led to the summer house at 9.

25,

And I also heard of a certain conversation which had taken place in the wood near the village that very afternoon.

A conversation between Ralph Payton and some unknown girl.

So,

I had my facts succeeding each other in a neat and orderly manner.

A secret marriage.

An engagement announced on the day of the tragedy.

The stormy interview in the wood and the meeting arranged for the summer house that night.

Incidentally,

This proved to me one thing,

That both Ralph Payton and Ursula Bourne,

Or Payton,

Had the strongest motives for wishing Mr.

Aykroyd out of the way.

And it also made one more point unexpectedly clear.

It could not have been Ralph Payton who was with Mr.

Aykroyd in the study at 9.

30.

So,

We come to another and most interesting aspect of the crime.

Who was in the room with Mr.

Aykroyd at 9.

30?

Not Ralph Payton,

Who was in the summer house with his wife.

Not Charles Kent,

Who had already left.

Who,

Then?

I posed my cleverest,

My most audacious question.

Was anyone with him?

Pierrot leaned forward and shot the last words triumphantly at us,

Drawing back afterwards with the air of one who has made a decided hit.

Raymond,

However,

Did not seem impressed and lodged a mild protest.

I don't know if you're trying to make me out a liar,

Impierro,

But the matter does not rest on my evidence alone,

Except perhaps as to the exact words used.

Remember,

Major Blunt also heard Mr.

Aykroyd talking to someone.

He was on the terrace outside and couldn't catch the words clearly,

But he distinctly heard the voices.

Pierrot nodded.

I have not forgotten,

He said quietly.

But Major Blunt was under the impression that it was you to whom Mr.

Aykroyd was speaking.

For a moment,

Raymond seemed taken aback.

Then he recovered himself.

Blunt knows now that he was mistaken,

He said.

Exactly,

Agreed the other man.

Yet there must have been some reason for his thinking so,

Mused Pierrot.

Oh,

No,

He held up his hand in protest.

I know the reason you will give,

But it is not enough.

You must seek elsewhere.

I will put it this way.

From the beginning of the case,

I have been struck by one thing.

The nature of those words which Mr.

Raymond overheard.

It has been amazing to me that no one has commented on them,

Has seen anything odd about them.

He paused a minute and then quoted softly.

The calls on my purse have been so frequent of late that I fear it impossible for me to accede to your request.

Does nothing strike you as odd about that?

I don't think so,

Said Raymond.

He has frequently dictated those letters to me,

Using almost exactly those same words.

Exactly,

Cried Pierrot.

That is what I seek to arrive at.

Would any man use such a phrase in talking to another?

Impossible that that should be part of a real conversation.

Now,

If he had been dictating a letter.

.

.

You mean he was reading a letter aloud?

Said Raymond slowly.

Even so,

He must have been reading to someone.

But why?

We have no evidence that there is anyone else in the room.

No other voice but Mr.

Ackroyd's was heard,

Remember?

Surely a man wouldn't read letters of that type aloud to himself,

Not unless he was,

Well,

Going balmy.

You have forgotten one thing,

Said Pierrot softly.

The stranger who called at the house the preceding Wednesday.

They all stared at him.

But yes,

Said Pierrot,

Nodding encouragingly.

On Wednesday,

The young man was not of himself important,

But the firm he represented interested me very much.

The dictaphone company,

Gasped Raymond.

I see it now,

A dictaphone.

That's what you think?

Pierrot nodded.

Mr.

Ackroyd had promised to invest in a dictaphone,

You remember?

Me,

I had the curiosity to inquire of the company in question.

Their reply is that Mr.

Ackroyd did purchase a dictaphone from their representative.

Why he concealed the matter from you,

I do not know.

He must have meant to surprise me with it,

Murmured Raymond.

He had quite a childish love of surprising people,

Meant to keep it up his sleeve for a day or so,

Probably was playing with it like a new toy.

Yes,

It fits in.

You're quite right.

No one would use quite those words in casual conversation.

It explains too,

Said Pierrot,

Why Major Blunt thought it was you who were in the study.

Such scraps as came to him were fragments of dictation,

And so his subconscious mind deduced that you were with him.

His conscious mind was occupied with something quite different,

The white figure he had caught a glimpse of.

He fancied it was Miss Ackroyd.

Really,

Of course,

It was Ursula Bourne's white apron he saw as she was stealing down to the summer house.

Raymond had recovered from his first surprise.

All the same,

He remarked,

This discovery of yours,

Brilliant though as it is,

I'm quite sure I should never have thought of it,

Leaves the essential position unchanged.

Mr.

Ackroyd was alive at 9.

30,

Since he was speaking into the dictaphone.

It seems clear that the man Charles Kent was really off the premises by then.

As to Ralph Payton,

He hesitated,

Glancing at Ursula.

Her color flared up,

But she answered steadily enough.

Ralph and I parted just before quarter to ten.

He never went near the house,

I am sure of that.

He had no intentions of doing so.

The last thing on earth he wanted was to face his stepfather.

He would have funked it badly.

It isn't that I doubt your story for a moment,

Explained Raymond.

I've always been quite sure Captain Payton was innocent,

But one has to think of a court of law and the questions that would be asked.

He is in a most unfortunate position,

But if he were to come forward.

.

.

Pierrot interrupted,

That is your advice,

Yes?

That he should come forward?

Certainly,

If you know where he is.

I perceive that you do not believe that I do know,

And yet I have told you just now that I know everything.

The truth of the telephone call,

Of the footprints on the windowsill,

Of the hiding place of Ralph Payton.

Where is he?

Said Blunt sharply.

Not very far away,

Said Pierrot,

Smiling.

And Cranchester?

I ask.

Pierrot turned towards me.

Always you ask me that.

The idea of Cranchester,

It is with you.

An idee fixe.

No,

He is not in Cranchester.

He is.

.

.

There.

He pointed with a dramatic forefinger.

Everyone's head turned.

Ralph Payton was standing in the doorway.

That concludes Chapter 23,

Pierrot's Little Reunion.

Chapter 24,

Ralph Payton's Story It was a very uncomfortable minute for me.

I hardly took in what happened next,

But there were exclamations and cries of surprise.

When I was sufficiently master of myself to be able to realize what was going on,

Ralph Payton was standing by his wife,

Her hand in his,

And he was smiling across the room at me.

Pierrot,

Too,

Was smiling and at the same time shaking an eloquent finger at me.

Have I not told you at least thirty-six times that it is useless to conceal things from Hercule Pierrot?

No,

He demanded,

That in such a case he finds out.

He turned to the others.

One day,

You remember,

We held a little seance about a table,

Just the six of us.

I accused the other five persons present of concealing something from me.

Four of them gave up their secret.

Dr.

Shepard did not give up his,

But all along I have had my suspicions.

Dr.

Shepard went to the three boars that night hoping to find Ralph.

He did not find him there,

But supposing,

I said to myself that he met him in the street on his way home.

Dr.

Shepard was a friend of Captain Payton's and he had come straight from the scene of the crime.

He must know things that looked very black against him,

But perhaps he knew more than the general public did.

I did,

I said ruefully.

I suppose I might as well make a clean breast of things now.

I went to see Ralph that afternoon.

At first he refused to take me into his confidence,

But later he told me about his marriage and the hole he was in.

As soon as the murder was discovered,

I realized that once the facts were known,

Suspicion could not fall too attached to Ralph,

Or if not to him,

To the girl he loved.

That night I put the facts plainly before him.

The thought of having possibly to give evidence which might incriminate his wife made him resolve at all cost to.

.

.

To.

.

.

I hesitated and Ralph filled up the gap.

To do a bunk,

He said graphically.

You see,

Ursula left me to go back to the house.

I thought it possible that she might have attempted to have another interview with my stepfather.

He had already been very rude to her that afternoon.

It occurred to me that he might have so insulted her in such an unforgivable manner that without knowing what she was doing,

He stopped.

Ursula released her hand from his and stepped back.

You thought that Ralph?

You actually thought that I might have done it?

Let us get back to the culpable conduct of Dr.

Shepard,

Said Puro dryly.

Dr.

Shepard consented to do what he could to help him.

He was successful in hiding Captain Payton from the police.

Where?

Asked Raymond.

In his own house?

Ah,

No,

Indeed,

Said Puro.

You should ask yourself the question that I did.

If the good doctor is concealing the young man,

What place would he choose?

It must necessarily be somewhere near at hand.

I think of Cranchester.

A hotel?

No.

Lodgings?

Even more emphatically,

No.

Where,

Then?

Ah,

I have it.

A nursing home.

A home for the mentally unfit.

I test my theory.

I invent a nephew with mental trouble.

I consult Mademoiselle Shepard as to suitable homes.

She gives me the names of two near Cranchester,

To which her brother has sent patients.

I make inquiries.

Yes.

At one of them,

A patient was brought there by the doctor himself on early Saturday morning.

That patient,

Though known by another name,

I had no difficulty in identifying as Captain Payton.

After certain necessary formalities,

I was allowed to bring him away.

He arrived at my house in the early hours of yesterday morning.

I looked at him ruefully.

Caroline's home office expert,

I murmured.

And to think I never guessed.

You see now why I drew attention to the reticence of your manuscript,

Murmured Pierrot.

It was strictly truthful as far as it went,

But it did not go very far.

Eh,

My friend?

I was too abashed to argue.

Doctor Shepard has been very loyal,

Said Ralph.

He has stood by me through thick and thin.

He did what he thought was best.

I see now,

From what M.

Pierrot has told me,

That it was not really the best.

I should have come forward and faced the music.

You see,

In the home,

We never saw a newspaper.

I knew nothing of what was going on.

Doctor Shepard has been a model of discretion,

Said Pierrot dryly.

But me,

I discover all the little secrets.

It is my business.

Now we can have the story of what happened that night,

Said Raymond impatiently.

You know it already,

Said Ralph.

There's very little for me to add.

I left the summer house about 9.

45 and tramped about the lanes,

Trying to make up my mind as what to do next.

What line to take?

I'm bound to admit that I've not the shadow of an alibi,

But I give you my solemn word that I never went to the study,

That I never saw my stepfather alive or dead.

Whatever the world thinks,

I'd like all of you to believe me.

No alibi,

Murmured Raymond.

That's bad.

I believe you,

Of course,

But it's a bad business.

It makes things very simple,

Though.

It makes things very simple,

Though,

Said Pierrot in a cheerful voice.

Very simple indeed.

We all stared at him.

You see what I mean,

No?

Just this.

To save Captain Payton,

The real criminal must confess.

He beamed around at us all.

But yes,

I mean what I say.

See now,

I did not invite Inspector Raglan to be present.

That was for a reason.

I did not want to tell him all that I knew.

At least,

I did not want to tell him tonight.

He leaned forward and suddenly his voice and his whole personality changed.

He suddenly became dangerous.

I who speak to you,

I know the murderer of Mr.

Aykroyd is in this room now.

It is to the murderer I speak.

Tomorrow,

The truth goes to Inspector Raglan.

You understand?

There was a tense silence.

Into the mist of it came the old Breton woman with a telegram on a salver.

Pierrot tore it open.

Blunt's voice rose abrupt and resonant.

The murderer is among us,

You say?

You know which?

Pierrot had read the message.

He crumpled it up in his hand.

I know now.

He tapped the crumpled ball of paper.

What is that?

Said Raymond sharply.

A wireless message from a steamer now on her way to the United States.

There was a dead silence.

Pierrot rose to his feet,

Bowing.

Messieurs et Mesdames,

This reunion of mine is at an end.

Remember,

The truth goes to Inspector Raglan in this morning.

That concludes Chapter 24,

Ralph Payton's Story.

Chapter 25,

The Old Truth A slight gesture from Pierrot enjoined me to stay behind the rest.

I obeyed,

Going over to the fire and thoughtfully stirring the big logs on it with the toe of my boot.

I was puzzled.

For the first time,

I was absolutely at sea as Pierrot was meaning.

For a moment,

I was inclined to think that the scene I had just witnessed was a gigantic piece of bombast.

That he had been what he called playing the comedy with a view to making himself interesting and important.

But,

In spite of myself,

I was forced to believe in an underlying reality.

There had been real menace in his words and a certain indisputable sincerity,

But I still believed him to be on entirely the wrong track.

When the door shut behind the last of the party,

He came over to the fire.

Well,

My friend,

He said quietly,

And what do you think of it all?

I don't know what to think,

I said frankly.

What was the point?

Why not go straight to Inspector Raglan with the truth instead of giving the guilty person this elaborate warning?

Pierrot sat down and drew out his case of tiny Russian cigarettes.

He smoked for a minute or two in silence.

Then,

Use your little grey cells,

He said.

There is always a reason behind my actions.

I hesitated for a moment and then I said slowly,

The first one that occurs to me is that you yourself do not know who the guilty person is,

But that you are sure that he is to be found amongst the people here tonight.

Therefore,

Your words were intended to force a confession from the unknown murderer?

Pierrot nodded approvingly.

A clever idea,

But not the truth.

I thought,

Perhaps,

That by making him believe you knew,

You might force him out into the open,

Not necessarily by confession.

He might try to silence you as he formerly silenced Mr.

Aykroyd,

Before you could act tomorrow morning.

I trap myself as the bait.

Merci,

Mon ami,

But I am not sufficiently heroic for that.

Then I failed to understand you.

Surely you are running the risk of letting the murderer escape by thus putting him on his guard.

Pierrot shook his head.

He cannot escape,

He said gravely.

There is only one way out,

And that way does not lead him to freedom.

You really believe that one of those people here tonight committed the murder?

I asked incredulously.

Yes,

My friend.

Which one?

There was a silence for some minutes.

Then Pierrot tossed the stump of his cigarette into the grate and began to speak in a quiet,

Reflective tone.

I will take you the way that I have traveled myself.

Step by step you shall accompany me and see for yourself that all the facts point indisputably to one person.

Now,

To begin with,

There were two facts and one little discrepancy in time which especially attracted my attention.

The first fact was the telephone call.

If Ralph Payton were indeed the murderer,

The telephone call became meaningless and absurd.

Therefore,

I said to myself,

Ralph Payton is not the murderer.

I satisfied myself that the call could not have been sent by anyone in the house.

Yet,

I was convinced that it was amongst those present on the fatal evening that I had to look for my criminal.

Therefore,

I concluded that the telephone call must have been sent by an accomplice.

I was not quite pleased with that deduction,

But I let it stand for a minute.

I next examined the motive for the call.

That was difficult.

I could only get at it by judging its result,

Which was that the murder was discovered that night instead of,

In all probability,

The following morning.

You agree with that?

Yes,

I admitted.

Yes,

As you say,

Mr.

Aykroyd,

Having given orders that he was not to be disturbed,

Nobody would have been likely to go to the study that night.

Très bien.

The affair marches,

Does it not?

But matters were still obscure.

What was the advantage of having the crime discovered that night in preference to the following morning?

The only idea I could get a hold of was that the murderer,

Knowing the crime was to be discovered at a certain time,

Could make sure of being present when the door was broken in,

Or,

At any rate,

Immediately afterwards.

And now we come to the second fact.

The chair pulled out from the wall.

Inspector Raglan dismissed that of no importance.

I,

On the other contrary,

Have always regarded it as of supreme importance.

In your manuscript,

You have drawn a neat little plan of the study.

If you had it with you this minute,

You would see that,

The chair being drawn out in the position indicated by Parker,

It would stand in a direct line between the door and the window.

The window,

I said quickly.

You,

Too,

Have my first idea.

I imagined that the chair was drawn out so that someone connected with the window should not be seen by anyone entering through the door.

But I soon abandoned that supposition,

For though the chair was a grandfather with a high back,

It obscured very little of the window,

Only the part between the sash and the ground.

No,

Mon ami,

But remember that just in front of the window,

There stood a table with books and magazines upon it.

Now,

That table was completely hidden by the drawn out chair,

And immediately I had my first shadowy suspicion of the truth.

Supposing that there had been something on that table not intended to be seen,

Something placed there by the murderer,

As yet I have no inkling of what that something might be,

But I knew certain,

Very interesting facts about it.

For instance,

It was something that the murderer had not been able to take away with him at the time that he committed the crime.

At the same time,

It was vital that it should be removed as soon as possible after the crime had been discovered,

And so the telephone message and the opportunity for the murderer to be on the spot when the body was discovered.

Now,

Four people were on the scene before the police arrived,

Yourself,

Parker,

Major Blunt,

And Mr.

Raymond.

Parker I eliminated at once,

Since at whatever time the crime was discovered,

He was the one person certain to be on the spot.

Also,

It was he who told me of the pulled out chair.

Parker then was cleared,

Of the murder that is.

I still thought it possible that he had been blackmailing Mrs.

Ferraris.

Raymond and Blunt,

However,

Remained under suspicion since.

If the crime had been discovered in the early hours of the morning,

It was quite possible that they might have arrived on the scene too late to prevent the object on the round table being discovered.

Now,

What was that object?

You heard my arguments tonight in reference to the scrap of conversation overheard.

As soon as I learned that a representative of a dictaphone company had called,

The idea of a dictaphone took root in my mind.

You heard what I said in this room not half an hour ago.

They all agreed with my theory,

But one vital fact seems to have escaped them.

Granted that a dictaphone was being used by Mr.

Ackroyd that night,

Why was no dictaphone found?

I never thought of that,

I said.

We know that a dictaphone was supplied to Mr.

Ackroyd,

But no dictaphone has been found amongst his effects.

So,

If something was taken from that table,

Why should not that something be the dictaphone?

But there were certain difficulties in the way.

The attention of everyone was,

Of course,

Focused on the murdered man.

I think anyone could have gone to the table unnoticed by the other people in the room.

But a dictaphone has a certain bulk.

It cannot be slipped casually into a pocket.

There must have been a receptacle of some kind capable of holding it.

You see where I am arriving.

The figure of the murderer is taking shape.

A person who was on the scene straight away,

But who might not have been if the crime had been discovered the following morning.

A person carrying a receptacle into which the dictaphone might be fitted.

I interrupted.

But why remove the dictaphone?

What was the point?

You are like Mr.

Raymond.

You take it for granted that what was heard at 9.

30 was Mr.

Ackroyd's voice speaking into the dictaphone.

But consider this useful invention for a little minute.

You dictate into it.

Do you not?

And at some later time,

A secretary or a typist turns it on and the voice speaks again.

You mean.

.

.

I gasped.

Pierrot nodded.

Yes,

I mean that.

At 9.

30,

Mr.

Ackroyd was already dead.

It was the dictaphone speaking,

Not the man.

And the murderer swished it on.

Then he must have been in the room at that minute.

Possibly.

But we must not exclude the likelihood of some mechanical device having been applied.

Something after the nature of a time lock or even a simple alarm clock.

But in that case,

We must add two qualifications to our imaginary portrait of the murderer.

It must have been someone who knew Mr.

Ackroyd's purchase of the dictaphone and also someone with the necessary mechanical knowledge.

I had got thus far in my mind when we came to the footprints on the window ledge.

Here,

There were three conclusions open to me.

One,

They might really have been made by Ralph Payton.

He had been at Fernley that night and might have climbed into the study and found his uncle dead there.

That was one hypothesis.

Two,

There was the possibility that the footmarks might have been made by somebody else who happened to have the same kind of studs in his shoes.

But the inmates of the house had shoes sold with crepe rubber and I declined to believe in the coincidence of someone from outside having the same kind of shoes as Ralph Payton wore.

Charles Kent,

As we know from the barmaid of the Dog and Whistle,

Had on a pair of boots clean-dropping off him.

Three,

Those prints were made by someone deliberately trying to throw suspicion to Ralph Payton.

To test this last conclusion,

It was necessary to ascertain certain facts.

One pair of Ralph's shoes had been obtained from the three boars by the police.

Neither Ralph nor anyone else could have warned them that evening since they were downstairs being cleaned.

According to the police theory,

Ralph was wearing another pair of the same kind and I found out that it was true that he had two pairs.

Now,

For my theory to be proved correct,

It was necessary for the murderer to have worn Ralph's shoes that evening,

In which case,

Ralph must have been wearing yet a third pair of footwear of some kind.

I could hardly suppose that he would bring three pairs of shoes all alike.

The third pair of footwear were more likely to be boots.

I got your sister to make inquiries on this point,

Laying some stress on the color,

In order,

I admit frankly,

To obscure the real reason for my asking.

You know the result of her investigations.

Ralph Payton had had a pair of boots with him.

The first question I asked him when he came to my house yesterday morning was what he was wearing on his feet on the fatal night.

He replied at once that he had worn boots.

He was still wearing them,

In fact,

Having nothing else to put on.

So,

We get a step further in our description of the murderer.

A person who had the opportunity to take these shoes of Ralph Payton's from the three boars that day.

He paused and then said,

With a slightly raised voice,

There is one further point.

The murderer must have been a person who had the opportunity to purloin that dagger from the silver table.

You might argue that anyone in the house might have done so,

But I will recall to you that Miss Aykroyd was very positive that the dagger was not there when she examined the silver table.

He paused again.

Let us recapitulate,

Now that all is clear.

A person who was at the three boars earlier that day.

A person who knew Aykroyd well enough to know that he had purchased a dictaphone.

A person who was of a mechanical turn in mind,

Who had the opportunity to take the dagger from the silver table before Miss Floor arrived.

Who had with him a receptacle suitable for hiding the dictaphone.

Such as a black bag.

And a person who had the study to himself for a few minutes after the crime was discovered while Parker was telephoning for the police.

In fact,

Dr.

Shepard.

That concludes chapter 25,

The Whole Truth.

Chapter 26 And Nothing But The Truth There was a dead silence for a minute and a half.

Then I laughed.

You're mad,

I said.

No,

Said Pierrot placidly.

I am not mad.

It was the little discrepancy in time that first drew my attention to you right at the beginning.

Discrepancy in time?

I queried,

Puzzled.

But yes,

You will remember that everyone agreed,

You yourself included,

That it took five minutes to walk from the lodge to the house.

Less if you took the shortcut to the terrace.

But you left the house at ten minutes to nine,

Both by your own statement and that of Parker.

And yet,

It was nine o'clock as you passed through the lodge gates.

It was a chilly night,

Not an evening a man would be inclined to dwaddle.

Why had you taken ten minutes to do a five minutes walk?

All along I realized that we had only your statement for it,

That the study window was ever fastened.

Aykroyd asked you if you had done so.

He never looked to see.

Supposing,

Then,

That the study window was unfastened.

Would there be time in that ten minutes for you to run round the outside of the house,

Change your shoes,

Climb in through the window,

Kill Aykroyd,

And get to the gate by nine o'clock?

I decided against that theory since in all probability a man as nervous as Aykroyd was that night would hear you climbing in and then there would have been a struggle.

But supposing that you killed Aykroyd before you left as you were standing beside his chair,

Then you go out through the front door,

Run round to the summer house,

Take Ralph Payton's shoes out of the bag you brought up with you that night,

Slip them on,

Walk through the mud in them,

And leave prints on the window ledge.

You climb in,

Lock the study door on the inside,

Run back to the summer house,

Change back into your own shoes,

And race down to the gate.

I went through similar actions the other day when you were with Mrs.

Aykroyd.

It took ten minutes exactly,

Then home and an alibi since you had timed the dictaphone for half past nine.

My dear Pierrot,

I said in a voice that sounded strange and forced to my own ears,

You've been brooding over this case too long.

What on earth had I to gain by murdering Aykroyd?

Safety.

It was you who blackmailed Mrs.

Ferrars.

Who could have had a better knowledge of what killed Mr.

Ferrars than the doctor who was attending him?

When you spoke to me that day in the garden,

You mentioned a legacy received about a year ago.

I have been unable to discover any trace of a legacy.

You had to invent some way of accounting for Mrs.

Ferrars' twenty thousand pounds.

It has not done you much good.

You lost most of it in speculation.

Then you put the screw on too hard and Mrs.

Ferrars took a way out that you had not expected.

If Aykroyd had learnt the truth,

He would have had no mercy on you.

You were ruined forever.

And the telephone call?

I asked,

Trying to rally.

You have a plausible explanation of that also,

I suppose.

I will confess to you that it was my greatest stumbling block when I found that a call had actually been put through to you from King's Abbot Station.

I at first believed that you had simply invented this story.

It was a very clever touch,

That You must have had some excuse for arriving at Fernley,

Finding the body,

And so getting the chance to remove the dictaphone on which your alibi depended.

I had a very vague notion of how it was worked when I came to see your sister that day and inquired as to what patients you had seen on Friday morning.

I had no thought of Miss Russell in my mind at that time.

Her visit was a lucky coincidence since it distracted your mind from the real object of my questions.

I found what I was looking for.

Among your patients that morning was the steward of an American liner,

Who more suitable than he to be leaving for Liverpool by train that evening,

And afterwards he would be on the high seas,

Well out of the way.

I noted that Orion sailed on Saturday and having obtained the name of the steward,

I sent him a wireless message asking a certain question.

This is his reply you saw me receive just now.

He held out the message to me.

It ran as follows.

Quite correct,

Dr.

Shepherd asked me to leave a note at a patient's house.

I was to ring him up from the station with the reply.

Reply was,

No answer.

It was a clever idea,

Said Pierrot.

The call was genuine.

Your sister saw you take it.

But there was only one man's word as to what was actually said.

Your own.

I yawned.

All this,

I said,

Is very interesting,

But hardly in the sphere of practical politics.

You think not.

Remember what I said.

The truth goes to Inspector Raglan in the morning.

But,

For the sake of your good sister,

I am willing to give you the chance of another way out.

There might be,

For instance,

An overdose of a sleeping drought.

You comprehend me?

But Captain Ralph Payton must be cleared.

Cava sends dire.

I should suggest that you finish that very interesting manuscript of yours,

But abandoning your former reticence.

You seem to be very prolific in your suggestions,

I remark.

Are you sure you've quite finished?

Now that you remind me of the fact,

It is true that there is one more thing.

It would be most unwise on your part to attempt to silence me as you silenced M.

Aykroyd.

That kind of business does not succeed against Hercule Pirot.

You understand?

My dear Pirot,

I said,

Smiling a little.

Whatever else I may be,

I am not a fool.

I rose to my feet.

Well,

Well,

I said with a slight yawn.

I must be off home.

Thank you for a most interesting and instructive evening.

Pirot also rose,

And bowed with his accustomed politeness as I passed out of the room.

That concludes chapter twenty-six,

And nothing but the truth.

Chapter twenty-seven,

Apologia Five a.

M.

,

And I am very tired,

But I have finished my task,

My arms aching from writing.

A strange end to my manuscript.

I meant it to be published someday as the history of one of Pirot's failures.

Odd how things pan out.

All along I have had a premonition of disaster from the moment I saw Ralph Payton and Mrs.

Farrars with their heads together.

I thought then that she was confiding in him.

As it happened,

I was quite wrong there.

But the idea persisted even after I went into the study with Mr.

Akkroyd that night.

Until he told me the truth.

Poor old Akkroyd.

I'm always glad that I gave him a chance.

I urged him to read that letter before it was too late.

Or,

Let me be honest,

Didn't I subconsciously realize that with a pig-headed chap like him it was my best chance of getting him not to read it?

His nervousness that night was interesting psychology.

He knew danger was close at hand.

And yet,

He never suspected me.

The dagger was an afterthought.

I brought up a very handy little weapon of my own.

But when I saw the dagger lying on the silver table it occurred to me at once how much better it would be to use a weapon that couldn't be traced to me.

I suppose I must have meant to murder him all along.

As soon as I heard of Mrs.

Farrar's death I felt convinced that she would have told him everything before she died.

When I met him and he seemed so agitated I thought that perhaps he knew the truth.

But couldn't bring himself to believe it and was going to give me the chance of refuting it.

So I went home and took my precautions.

If the trouble were,

After all,

Only something to do with Ralph well,

No harm would have been done.

The dictaphone he had given me two days before to adjust something had gone a little wrong with it and I persuaded him to let me have a go at it instead of sending it back.

I did what I wanted to it and took it up with me in my bag that evening.

I'm rather pleased with myself as a writer.

What could be neater,

For instance,

Than the following.

The letters were 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.

All true,

You see.

But suppose I had put a row of stars after the first sentence.

Would somebody then have wondered what exactly happened in that blank ten minutes?

When I looked around the room from the door I was quite satisfied.

Nothing had been left undone.

The dictaphone was on the table by the window.

Timed to go off at nine thirty.

The mechanism of that little device was rather clever based on the principle of an alarm clock.

And the armchair was pulled out so to hide it from the door.

I must admit that it gave me rather a shock to run into Parker just outside the door.

I have faithfully recorded that fact.

Then later,

When the body was discovered and I had sent Parker to telephone for the police what a judicious use of words.

I did what little had to be done.

It was quite little just to shove the dictaphone into my bag and push back the chair against the wall in its proper place.

I never dreamed that Parker would have noticed that chair.

Logically,

He ought to have been so agog over the body as to be blind to everything else.

But I hadn't reckoned with the trained servant complex.

I wish I could have known beforehand that Flora was going to say she'd seen her uncle alive at a quarter to ten.

That puzzled me more than I can say.

In fact,

All through the case there have been many things that puzzled me hopelessly.

Everyone seems to have taken a hand.

My greatest fear all through has been Caroline.

I have fancied that she might guess,

Curious the way she spoke that day of my strain of weakness.

Well,

She will never know the truth.

There is,

As Pierrot said,

One way out.

I can trust him.

He and Inspector Raglin will manage it between them.

I should not like Caroline to know.

She is fond of me,

And then,

Too,

She is proud.

My death will be a grief to her.

But grief passes.

When I have finished writing,

I shall enclose this whole manuscript in an envelope and address it to Pierrot.

And then,

What shall it be?

Veronal?

There would be kind of a poetic justice.

Not that I take any responsibility for Mrs.

Farrar's death.

It was the direct consequence of her own actions.

I feel no pity for her.

I have no pity for myself,

Either.

So,

Let it be,

Veronal.

But I wish Hercule Pierrot had never retired from work and come here to grow vegetable morrows.

The End That concludes Chapter 27,

Apologia.

It is also the end of the story The Murder of Roger Ackroyd by Agatha Christie Thank you so very much for listening.

It has been a great joy and honor to read this story for you.

I hope over this time you have been able to relax and enjoy each of these chapters.

I hope that you continue to follow your journey to inner peace and relaxation.

I do hope you return and listen to other stories that I read.

Please take care of yourself and thank you for listening to Restful Journeys.