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

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Caroline led the way into our small sitting-room, and I followed. Flora was sitting on the sofa by the window. She was in black and she sat nervously twisting her hands together. I was shocked by the sight of her face. All the colour had faded away from it. But when she spoke her manner was as composed and resolute as possible.

‘Dr Sheppard, I have come to ask you to help me?’

‘Of course he’ll help you, my dear,’ said Caroline.

I don’t think Flora really wished Caroline to be present at the interview. She would, I am sure, have infinitely preferred to speak to me privately. But she also wanted to waste no time, so she made the best of it.

‘I want you to come to The Larches with me.’

‘The Larches?’ I queried, surprised.

‘To see that funny little man?’ exclaimed Caroline.

‘Yes. You know who he is, don’t you?’

‘We fancied,’ I said, ‘that he might be a retired hairdresser.’

Flora’s blue eyes opened very wide.

‘Why, he’s Hercule Poirot! you know who I mean – the private detective. They say he’s done the most wonderful things – just like detectives do in books. A year ago he retired and came to live down here. uncle knew who he was, but he promised not to tell anyone, because M. Poirot wanted to live quietly without being bothered by people.’