The Murder of Roger Ackroyd / Убийство Роджера Экройда - стр. 31

‘Did he ask specially not to be disturbed?’

‘Oh! yes, I forgot. He said: “Tell Parker I don’t want anything more tonight, and that he’s not to disturb me.” I met Parker just outside the door and gave him uncle’s message.’

‘Just so,’ said the inspector.

‘Won’t you tell me what it is that has been stolen?’

‘We’re not quite – certain,’ said the inspector hesitatingly.

A wide look of alarm came into the girl’s eyes. She started up.

‘What is it? You’re hiding something from me?’

Moving in his usual unobtrusive manner, hector Blunt came between her and the inspector. She half stretched out her hand, and he took it in both of his, patting it as though she were a very small child, and she turned to him as though something in his stolid, rocklike demeanour promised comfort and safety.

‘It’s bad news, Flora,’ he said quietly. ‘Bad news for all of us. Your uncle Roger – ’

‘Yes?’

‘It will be a shock to you. Bound to be. Poor roger’s dead.’

Flora drew away from him, her eyes dilating with horror.

‘When?’ she whispered. ‘When?’

‘Very soon after you left him, I’m afraid,’ said Blunt gravely.

Flora raised her hand to her throat, gave a little cry, and I hurried to catch her as she fell. She had fainted, and Blunt and I carried her upstairs and laid her on her bed. Then I got him to wake Mrs Ackroyd and tell her the news. Flora soon revived, and I brought her mother to her, telling her what to do for the girl. Then I hurried downstairs again.

I met the inspector just coming from the door which led into the kitchen quarters.

‘How’s the young lady, doctor?’

‘Coming round nicely. Her mother’s with her.’

‘That’s good. I’ve been questioning the servants. They all declare that no one has been to the back door tonight. Your description of that stranger was rather vague. Can’t you give us something more definite to go upon?’

‘I’m afraid not,’ I said regretfully. ‘It was a dark night, you see, and the fellow had his coat collar well pulled up and his hat squashed down over his eyes.’

‘H’m,’ said the inspector. ‘Looked as though he wanted to conceal his face. Sure it was no one you know?’

I replied in the negative, but not as decidedly as I might have done. I remembered my impression that the stranger’s voice was not unfamiliar to me. I explained this rather haltingly to the inspector.

‘It was a rough, uneducated voice, you say?’

I agreed, but it occurred to me that the roughness had been of an almost exaggerated quality. If, as the inspector thought, the man had wished to hide his face, he might equally well have tried to disguise his voice.