Agatha Christie – The Murder Of Roger Ackroyd

I saw the reflection of that thought in Poirot’s next question.

‘Who left the summer-house first?’ ‘I did.’ ‘Leaving Ralph Paton in the summerhouse?’ ‘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 dawning horror in her eyes.

Poirot finished the sentence for her.

‘That it was you who entered by the window and stabbed Mr Ackroyd as he sat in his chair? Yes, they might think just that.’ ‘Nobody but a fool would think any such thing,’ said Caroline indignantly.

She patted Ursula on the shoulder.

The girl 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. ‘M. Poirot 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 any such 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, cruellest 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.’ Ursual 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 – 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 fond of Dr Sheppard, and I fancied that perhaps Dr Sheppard 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 spoken of Dr Sheppard, 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 where Ralph Paton is at the present moment.’ ‘That is true enough,’ said Poirot.

‘But -‘ Ursula held out the newspaper cutting in a puzzled fashion.

‘Ah! that,’ said Poirot, slightly embarrassed; ‘a bagatelle, mademoiselle. A rien du tout. Not for a moment do I believe that Ralph Paton has been arrested.’ ‘But then -‘ began the girl slowly.

Poirot went on quickly: ‘There is one thing I should like to know – did Captain Paton 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. And do not torment yourself. Be of good courage, and place your faith in Hercule Poirot.’

CHAPTER 23 Poirot’s Little Reunion

‘And now,’ said Caroline, rising, ‘that child is coming upstairs to lie down. Don’t you worry, my dear. M. Poirot will do everything he can for you – be sure of that.’ ‘I ought to go back to Fernly,’ said Ursula uncertainly.

But Caroline silenced her protests with a firm hand.

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