Читать книгу The Murder of Roger Ackroyd / Убийство Роджера Экройда онлайн

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Poirot’s gaze took on an admiring quality.

‘You have been of a marvellous promptness,’ he observed. ‘How exactly did you go to work, if I may ask?’ ‘certainly,’ said the inspector.

‘To begin with – method. That’s what I always say – method!’

‘Ah!’ cried the other. ‘That, too, is my watchword. Method, order, and the little grey cells.’

‘The cells?’ said the inspector, staring.

‘The little grey cells of the brain,’ explained the Belgian.

‘Oh, of course; well, we all use them, I suppose.’

‘In a greater or lesser degree,’ murmured Poirot. ‘And there are, too, differences in quality. Then there is the psychology of a crime. One must study that.’

‘Ah!’ said the inspector, ‘you’ve been bitten with all this psycho-analysis stuff? Now, I’m a plain man-’

‘Mrs Raglan would not agree, I am sure, to that,’ said Poirot, making him a little bow.

Inspector Raglan, a little taken aback, bowed.

‘You don’t understand,’ he said, grinning broadly. ‘Lord, what a lot of difference language makes. I’m telling you how I set to work. first of all, method. Mr Ackroyd was last seen alive at a quarter to ten by his niece, Miss Flora Ackroyd. That’s fact number one, isn’t it?’