‘M. Poirot,’ she said in a clear voice, ‘I swear to you swear solemnly – that I have no idea where Ralph is, and that I have neither seen him nor heard from him either on the day of- of the murder, or since.’ She sat down again. Poirot gazed at her in silence for a minute or two, then he brought his hand down on the table with a sharp rap.
‘Bien\ That is that,’ he said. His face hardened. ‘Now I appeal to these others who sit round this table, Mrs Ackroyd, Major Blunt, Dr Sheppard, Mr Raymond. You are all friends and intimates of the missing man. If you know where Ralph Paton is hiding, speak out.’ There was a long silence. Poirot looked to each in turn.
‘I beg of you,’ he said in a low voice, ‘speak out.’ But still there was silence, broken at last by Mrs Ackroyd.
‘I must say,’ she observed in a plaintive voice, ‘that & 121 Ralph’s absence is most peculiar – most peculiar indeed. Not to come forward at such a time. It looks, you know, as though there were something behind it. I can’t help thinking. Flora dear, that it was a very fortunate thing your engagement was never formally announced.’ ‘Mother!’ cried Flora angrily.
‘Providence,’ declared Mrs Ackroyd. ‘I have a devout belief in Providence – a divinity that shapes our ends, as Shakespeare’s beautiful line runs.’ ‘Surely you don’t make the Almighty directly responsible for thick ankles, Mrs Ackroyd, do you?’ asked Geoffrey Raymond, his irresponsible laugh ringing out.
His idea was, I think, to loosen the tension, but Mrs Ackroyd threw him a glance of reproach and took out her handkerchief.
‘Flora has been saved a terrible amount of notoriety and unpleasantness. Not for a moment that I think dear Ralph had anything to do with poor Roger’s death. I don’t think so. But then I have a trusting heart – I always have had, ever since a child. I am loath to believe the worst of anyone. But, of course, one must remember that Ralph was in several air raids as a young boy. The results are apparent long after, sometimes, they say. People are not responsible for their actions in the least.
They lose control, you know, without being able to help it.’ ‘Mother,’ cried Flora, ‘you don’t think Ralph did it?’ ‘Come, Mrs Ackroyd,’ said Blunt.
‘I don’t know what to think,’ said Mrs Ackroyd tearfully.
‘It’s all very upsetting. What would happen to the estate, I wonder, if Ralph were found guilty?’ Raymond pushed his chair away from the table violently.
Major Blunt remained very quiet, looking thoughtfully at her.
‘Like shell-shock, you know,’ said Mrs Ackroyd obstinately, ‘and I dare say Roger kept him very short of money – with the best intentions, of course. I can see you are all against me, but I do think it is very odd that Ralph has not come forward, and I must say I am thankful Flora’s engagement was never announced formally.’ ‘It will be tomorrow,’ said Flora in a clear voice.
‘Flora!’ cried her mother, aghast.
Flora had turned to the secretary.
‘Will y011 sen(^ ^ announcement to the Morning Post. And The Times, please, Mr Raymond.’ ‘If you are sure that it is wise. Miss Ackroyd,’ he replied gravely.
She turned impulsively to Blunt.
‘You understand,’ she said. ‘What else can I do? As things are, I must stand by Ralph. Don’t you see that I must?’ She looked very searchingly at him, and after a long pause he nodded abruptly.
Mrs Ackroyd burst out into shrill protests. Flora remained unmoved. Then Raymond spoke.
‘I appreciate your motives. Miss Ackroyd. But don’t you think you’re being rather precipitate? Wait a day or two.’ ‘Tomorrow,’ said Flora in a clear voice. ‘It’s no good, Mother, going on like this. Whatever else I am, I’m not disloyal to my friends.’ ‘M. Poirot,’ Mrs Ackroyd appealed tearfully. ‘Can’t you say anything at all?’ ‘Nothing to be said,’ interpolated Blunt. ‘She’s doing the right thing. I’ll stand by her through thick and thin.’ Flora held out her hand to him.
‘Thank you. Major Blunt,’ she said.