Roger Mystery

Chapter 15 Inspector Raglan is confident (1)
Poirot and I looked at each other.

"Surely you will go to the station to investigate further?" I asked.

"That's natural, but I don't have much hope for the outcome. You know what that station is like."

True, Kings Albert is a tiny place, but the railway station here happens to be an important hub.Most express trains stop here, and many trains have to separate and reassemble their cars here.There are two or three public telephone booths at the station.At that time of night, three trains from this county came into the station one after another, all in order to allow passengers to catch the express train going north.The express train arrived at the station at ten nineteen and left at ten twenty-three.So at that time, the whole station was buzzing with people. No matter who made a phone call or got on the express train at the station, the chance of being specially noticed was very slim.

"But why on earth is this call?" Melrose wondered. "This is what I find most unusual. The move seems pointless."

Poirot carefully straightened a piece of ceramic decoration on the bookshelf.

"There must be some reason," he said over his shoulder.

"But why?"

"If we figure that out, it'll be all over the place. The twists and turns of this case are fascinating."

The tone in which he said the last sentence was elusive.I think his perspective on the case is very unique, but I can't figure out what mystery he saw.

He went to the window and looked out.

"Dr. Shepherd, you said it was nine o'clock when you met the stranger outside the gate, did you not?"

He didn't turn around when he asked the question.

"Yes," I answered, "I heard the church clock strike nine."

"How long does it take him to walk from the gate to the house—say, to this window?"

"No more than 5 minutes at most. If he takes the path on the right side of the driveway and goes around directly, it only takes two or three minutes."

"But if he takes a shortcut, he must be very familiar with the route. How to put it - that means he has been to the manor before, so he knows the surrounding environment like the back of his hand."

"That makes sense," Colonel Melrose agreed.

"There is no doubt that we can find out whether Mr Ackroyd has had any strange visitors during the past week, can we?"

"Young Raymond will tell us," I said.

"Just ask Parker," Colonel Melrose suggested.

"Or both ask," laughed Poirot.

Colonel Melrose ran to Raymond, and I rang the bell again, calling Parker.

Colonel Melrose returned in an instant, accompanied by the young secretary.He introduced the secretary to Poirot.Geoffrey Raymond is as energetic and courteous as ever.He seemed pleasantly surprised to have made the acquaintance of Poirot.

"I didn't expect you to live with us incognito," he said. "It's an honor to witness your case—hey, what's this?"

Poirot, who had been standing on the left side of the doorway, suddenly moved aside.Before I could turn around, he pulled out the armchair in two or three strokes, and put it in the place Parker pointed out.

"You want me to sit in a chair and give me a blood test?" Raymond really had a good sense of humor, "What do you think?"

"Mr. Raymond, this chair was dragged out of its place when Mr. Ackroyd was found dead. It was pushed back in its place. Did you do it?" ?”

As soon as the voice finished speaking, the secretary answered without delay.

"No, definitely not me. I didn't even notice it was in that position. But since you say that, you can't be wrong. Someone else must have moved it, anyway. Could the thread be spoiled? Too bad!"

"No consequence," said the detective, "not at all. Mr. Raymond, what I really want to ask is whether any strangers have called on Mr. Ackroyd in the past week?"

The secretary frowned and began to recall.Parker, who heard the bell, also appeared.

"What are your orders, sir?"

"Has any stranger come to see Mr Ackroyd this week?"

The butler, too, was lost in thought.

"There was a young man here on Wednesday, sir," he said at last, "a salesman for Curtiss & Trout, as far as I know."

Raymond waved impatiently.

"Oh! yes, I remember that too, but he is not the stranger the gentleman says he is." He turned to Poirot. "Mr. Ackroyd intends to buy a dictating recorder," he explained, "so that we The work efficiency can be greatly improved. The company that sells this thing sent a salesman to negotiate, but the transaction has not yet been made. Mr. Aykroyd has not made up his mind to buy it yet."

Poirot said again to the butler: "Can you, Mr. Parker, describe this young man?"

"He has fair hair, sir, and is of short stature. He is neatly dressed, in a blue serge suit; a handsome man for his status."

Poirot asked me: "Doctor, the man you met at the gate was very tall, wasn't he?"

"Well," I said, "I reckon it's about six feet tall."

"Then the two things are irrelevant," asserted the Belgian. "Thanks, Parker."

The butler said to Raymond: "Mr. Hammond has just arrived, sir, and he is eager to help us, and he wants to talk to you."

"I'll go right away." The young man hurried away.Poirot looked questioningly at the prefect of police.

"He's the family lawyer, M. Poirot," explained Melrose.

"Young Mr. Raymond is busy now," muttered Poirot. "He is very efficient."

"Mr. Ackroyd also recognized his ability."

"How long has he been here?"

"It's only been two years."

"He must be very cautious in his affairs, I am sure of that. What is his usual hobby? Like sports?"

"Private secretaries don't have much time for entertainment," laughed Colonel Melrose. "I think Raymond plays golf and tennis in the summer."

"Isn't he going to the races—I mean racetracks or something?"

"Jacquard? No, I don't think he's interested in betting on horses."

Poirot nodded, becoming less interested.He looked around the study slowly.

"I've seen everything I need to see here."

I also looked around.

"If only the walls could talk," I whispered.

Poirot shook his head violently. "Tongues aren't enough," he said, "they have to have eyes and ears. But don't insist that these inanimate things—" he said, touching the top of the bookcase, "are dumb. For me, they also sometimes speak - chairs, tables - they contain their own message."

He turned and walked towards the door.

"What message?" I said aloud. "What did they say to you today?"

He turned his head away, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

"An open window," he said, "a locked door, a chair with its own legs. I asked three 'whys,' and got no answer."

He shook his head, puffed out his chest, and stood there blinking at us, looking so incredibly smug.I can't help but wonder if he's really a detective.Had his reputation been the result of a string of good fortunes?
Colonel Melrose probably agrees with me too, and his brows are also furrowed.

"Is there anything else you would like to see, M. Poirot?" he asked directly.

"If you'd take the trouble to show me the silver table where the murder weapon used to be, that would be all the better. Then I'll leave you alone."

We walked towards the drawing room, but the chief of police was stopped by a policeman on the way, and after a while of whispering, Colonel Melrose excused himself.I had to take Poirot to see the silver table myself.I lift the table top once or twice, then let it go and let it close by itself.Poirot pushed open the French windows onto the terrace, and I followed.

Inspector Raglan was coming just around the corner towards us.He looked stern, but full of ambition.

"So you are here, M. Poirot," said he. "Well, the case is almost settled. I am sorry, too, that what a fine fellow he has gone astray."

Poirot's face darkened immediately, but his tone was still very gentle. "According to this, there is nothing I can do to help?"

"Maybe next time," the Inspector reassured him, "though it's not every day that there's a murder in this quiet corner of the world."

Poirot gazed enviously at the inspector.

"Your speed is unrivaled," he admired. "May I take the liberty to ask you the tricks of your case?"

"Of course," laughed the Inspector. "First of all—method. What I always say is—method!"

"Ah!" exclaimed Poirot. "That's my motto too. Method, sequence, and little gray cells."

(End of this chapter)