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

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‘What questions do you want me to ask?’ I asked apprehensively.

‘I want you to introduce the name of Mrs Ferrars.’

‘Yes?’

‘Speak of her in a natural fashion. Ask him if he was down here when her husband died. you understand the kind of thing I mean. And while he replies, watch his face without seeming to watch it. C’est compris?’

There was no time for more, for at that minute, as Poirot had prophesied, Blunt left the others in his abrupt fashion and came over to us. I suggested strolling on the terrace, and he acquiesced. Poirot stayed behind.

I stopped to examine a late rose.

‘How things change in the course of a day or two,’ I observed. ‘I was up here last Wednesday, I remember, walking up and down this same terrace. Ackroyd was with me – full of spirits. And now – three days later – Ackroyd’s dead, poor fellow. Mrs Ferrars dead – you knew her, didn’t you? But of course you did.’

Blunt nodded his head.

‘Had you seen her since you’d been down this time?’

‘Went with Ackroyd to call. Last Tuesday, think it was. fascinating woman – but something queer about her. Deep – one would never know what she was up to.’