I sympathized, and narrated my own similar trouble.
Then the gong pealed out, and we all went in to lunch.
Poirot drew me back a little.Eh bien?
hes all right, I said. Im sure of it.
Nothing disturbing?
He had a legacy just a year ago, I said. But why not? Why shouldnt he? Ill swear the man is perfectly square and above board.
Without doubt, without doubt, said Poirot soothingly. Do not upset yourself.
He spoke as though to a fractious child.
We all trooped into the dining-room. It seemed incredible that less than twenty-four hours had passed since I last sat at that table.
Afterwards, Mrs Ackroyd took me aside and sat down with me on a sofa.
I cant help feeling a little hurt, she murmured, producing a handkerchief of the kind obviously not meant to be cried into. hurt, I mean, by Rogers lack of confidence in me. That twenty thousand pounds ought to have been left to me not to Flora. A mother could be trusted to safeguard the interests of her child. A lack of trust, I call it.
You forget, Mrs Ackroyd, I said, Flora was Ackroyds own niece, a blood relation. It would have been different had you been his sister instead of his sister-in-law.
As poor Cecils widow, I think my feelings ought to have been considered, said the lady, touching her eyelashes gingerly with the handkerchief. But Roger was always most peculiar- not to say mean about money matters. It has been a most difficult position for both flora and myself. he did not even give the poor child an allowance. He would pay her bills, you know, and even that with a good deal of reluctance and asking what she wanted all those fallals for so like a man- but now Ive forgotten what it was I was going to say! oh, yes, not a penny we could call our own, you know. flora resented it yes, I must say she resented it very strongly. Though devoted to her uncle, of course. But any girl would have resented it. yes, I must say Roger had very strange ideas about money. He wouldnt even buy new face towels, though I told him the old ones were in holes. And then, proceeded Mrs Ackroyd, with a sudden leap highly characteristic of her conversation, to leave all that money a thousand pounds, fancy, a thousand pounds! to that woman.
What woman?
That Russell woman. Something very queer about her, and so Ive always said. But Roger wouldnt hear a word against her. Said she was a woman of great force of character, and that he admired and respected her. he was always going on about her rectitude and independence and moral worth. I think theres something fishy about her. She was certainly doing her best to marry roger. But I soon put a stop to that. She always hated me. Naturally. I saw through her.
I began to wonder if there was any chance of stemming Mrs Ackroyds eloquence, and getting away. Mr Hammond provided the necessary diversion by coming up to say goodbye. I seized my chance and rose also.
About the inquest, I said. Where would you prefer it to be held? here, or at the Three Boars?
Mrs Ackroyd stared at me with a dropped jaw.
The inquest? she asked, the picture of consternation. But surely there wont have to be an inquest?
Mr Hammond gave a dry little cough and murmured, Inevitable. under the circumstances, in two short little barks.
But surely dr Sheppard can arrange-
There are limits to my powers of arrangement, I said drily.
If his death was an accident-
He was murdered, Mrs Ackroyd, I said brutally.
She gave a little cry.
No theory of accident will hold water for a minute.
Mrs Ackroyd looked at me in distress. I had no patience with what I thought was her silly fear of unpleasantness.
If theres an inquest, II shant have to answer questions and all that, shall I? she asked.
I dont know what will be necessary, I answered. I imagine Mr Raymond will take the brunt of it off you. he knows all the circumstances, and can give formal evidence of identification.
The lawyer assented with a little bow.
I really dont think there is anything to dread, Mrs Ackroyd, he said. you will be spared all the unpleasantness. Now, as to the question of money, have you all you need for the present? I mean, he added, as she looked at him inquiringly, ready money. Cash, you know. If not, I can arrange to let you have whatever you require.
That ought to be all right, said Raymond, who was standing by. Mr Ackroyd cashed a cheque for a hundred pounds yesterday.
A hundred pounds?
Yes. For wages and other expenses due today. At the moment it is still intact.
Where is this money? In his desk?
No, he always kept his cash in his bedroom. In an old collar box, to be accurate. funny idea, wasnt it?
I think, said the lawyer, we ought to make sure the money is there before I leave.
Certainly, agreed the secretary. Ill take you up now oh! I forgot. The doors locked.
Inquiry from Parker elicited the information that Inspector raglan was in the housekeepers room asking a few supplementary questions. A few minutes later the inspector joined the party in the hall, bringing the key with him. he unlocked the door and we passed into the lobby and up the small staircase. At the top of the stairs the door into Ackroyds bedroom stood open. Inside the room it was dark, the curtains were drawn, and the bed was turned down just as it had been last night. The inspector drew the curtains, letting in the sunlight, and geoffrey raymond went to the top drawer of a rosewood bureau.
He kept his money like that, in an unlocked drawer. Just fancy, commented the inspector.
The secretary flushed a little.
Mr Ackroyd had perfect faith in the honesty of all the servants, he said hotly.
Oh! quite so, said the inspector hastily.
Raymond opened the drawer, took out a round leather collar-box from the back of it, and opening it, drew out a thick wallet.
Here is the money, he said, taking out a fat roll of notes. You will find the hundred intact, I know, for Mr Ackroyd put it in the collar-box in my presence last night when he was dressing for dinner, and of course it has not been touched since.
Mr hammond took the roll from him and counted it. he looked up sharply.
A hundred pounds, you said. But there is only sixty here.
Raymond stared at him.
Impossible, he cried, springing forward. Taking the notes from the others hand, he counted them aloud.
Mr Hammond had been right. The total amounted to sixty pounds.
But I cant understand it, cried the secretary, bewildered.
Poirot asked a question.
You saw Mr Ackroyd put this money away last night when he was dressing for dinner? You are sure he had not paid away any of it already?
Im sure he hadnt. He even said, I dont want to take a hundred pounds down to dinner with me. Too bulgy.
Then the affair is very simple, remarked Poirot. either he paid out that forty pounds some time last evening, or else it has been stolen.
Thats the matter in a nutshell, agreed the inspector. he turned to Mrs Ackroyd. Which of the servants would come in here yesterday evening?
I suppose the housemaid would turn down the bed.
Who is she? What do you know about her?
Shes not been here very long, said Mrs Ackroyd. But shes a nice ordinary country girl.
I think we ought to clear this matter up, said the inspector. If Mr Ackroyd paid that money away himself, it may have a bearing on the mystery of the crime. The other servants all right, as far as you know?
Oh, I think so.
Not missed anything before?
No.
None of them leaving, or anything like that?
The parlourmaid is leaving.
When?
She gave notice yesterday, I believe.
To you?
Oh, no. I have nothing to do with the servants. Miss Russell attends to the household matters.
The inspector remained lost in thought for a minute or two. Then he nodded his head and remarked,
I think Id better have a word with Miss Russell, and Ill see the girl Dale as well.
Poirot and I accompanied him to the housekeepers room. Miss Russell received us with her usual sang-froid. Elsie Dale had been at Fernly five months. A nice girl, quick at her duties, and most respectable. good references. The last girl in the world to take anything not belonging to her.
What about the parlourmaid?
She, too, was a most superior girl. Very quiet and ladylike. An excellent worker.
Then why is she leaving? asked the inspector.
Miss Russell pursed up her lips. It was none of my doing. I understand Mr Ackroyd found fault with her yesterday afternoon. It was her duty to do the study, and she disarranged some of the papers on his desk, I believe. he was very annoyed about it, and she gave notice. At least, that is what I understood from her, but perhaps youd like to see her yourselves?
The inspector assented. I had already noticed the girl when she was waiting on us at lunch. A tall girl, with a lot of brown hair rolled tightly away at the back of her neck, and very steady grey eyes. She came in answer to the housekeepers summons, and stood very straight with those same grey eyes fixed on us.
You are Ursula Bourne? asked the inspector.
Yes, sir.
I understand you are leaving?
Yes, sir.
Why is that?
I disarranged some papers on Mr Ackroyds desk. He was very angry about it, and I said I had better leave. he told me to go as soon as possible.
Were you in Mr Ackroyds bedroom at all last night? Tidying up or anything?
No, sir. That is Elsies work. I never went near that part of the house.
I must tell you, my girl, that a large sum of money is missing from Mr Ackroyds room.
At last I saw her roused. A wave of colour swept over her face.
I know nothing about any money. If you think I took it, and that that is why Mr Ackroyd dismissed me, you are wrong.
Im not accusing you of taking it, my girl, said the inspector. Dont flare up so.
The girl looked at him coldly.
You can search my things if you like, she said disdainfully. But you wont find anything.
Poirot suddenly interposed.
It was yesterday afternoon that Mr Ackroyd dismissed you or you dismissed yourself, was it not? he asked.
The girl nodded.
How long did the interview last?
The interview?
Yes, the interview between you and Mr Ackroyd in the study?
II dont know.
Twenty minutes? Half an hour?
Something like that.
Not longer?
Not longer than half an hour, certainly.
Thank you, mademoiselle.
I looked curiously at him. He was rearranging a few objects on the table, setting them straight with precise fingers. His eyes were shining.
Thatll do, said the inspector.
Ursula Bourne disappeared. The inspector turned to Miss Russell.
How long has she been here? have you got a copy of the reference you had with her?
Without answering the first question, Miss Russell moved to an adjacent bureau, opened one of the drawers, and took out a handful of letters clipped together with a patent fastener. She selected one and handed it to the inspector.
Hm, said he. reads all right. Mrs Richard Folliott, Marby grange, Marby. Whos this woman?
Quite good country people, said Miss Russell.
Well, said the inspector, handing it back, lets have a look at the other one, Elsie Dale.
Elsie Dale was a big fair girl, with a pleasant but slightly stupid face. She answered our questions readily enough, and showed much distress and concern at the loss of the money.
I dont think theres anything wrong with her, observed the inspector, after he had dismissed her. What about Parker?
Miss Russell pursed her lips together and made no reply.
Ive a feeling theres something wrong about that man, the inspector continued thoughtfully. The trouble is that I dont quite see when he got his opportunity. hed be busy with his duties immediately after dinner, and hed got a pretty good alibi all through the evening. I know, for Ive been devoting particular attention to it. Well, thank you very much, Miss russell. Well leave things as they are for the present. Its highly probable Mr Ackroyd paid that money away himself.
The housekeeper bade us a dry good afternoon, and we took our leave.
I left the house with Poirot.
I wonder, I said, breaking the silence, what the papers the girl disarranged could have been for Ackroyd to have got into such a state about them? I wonder if there is any clue there to the mystery.
The secretary said there were no papers of particular importance on the desk, said Poirot quietly.
Yes, but- I paused.
It strikes you as odd that Ackroyd should have flown into a rage about so trivial a matter?
Yes, it does rather.
But was it a trivial matter?
Of course, I admitted, we dont know what those papers may have been. But Raymond certainly said-
Leave M. Raymond out of it for a minute. What did you think of that girl?
Which girl? The parlourmaid?
Yes, the parlourmaid. Ursula Bourne.
She seemed a nice girl, I said hesitatingly.
Poirot repeated my words, but whereas I had laid a slight stress on the fourth word, he put it on the second.
She seemed a nice girl yes.
Then, after a minutes silence, he took something from his pocket and handed it to me.
See, my friend, I will show you something. Look there.
The paper he had handed me was that compiled by the inspector and given by him to Poirot that morning. following the pointing finger, I saw a small cross marked in pencil opposite the name Ursula Bourne.
You may not have noticed it at the time, my good friend, but there was one person on this list whose alibi had no kind of confirmation. Ursula Bourne.
You dont think-?
Dr Sheppard, I dare to think anything. Ursula Bourne may have killed Mr Ackroyd, but I confess I can see no motive for her doing so. Can you?
He looked at me very hard so hard that I felt uncomfortable.
Can you? he repeated.
No motive whatsoever, I said firmly.
His gaze relaxed. He frowned and murmured to himself: