Roger Mystery

Chapter 5 Kings Albert
Before continuing to review my conversation with Caroline, I would like to briefly introduce the customs and customs here.This village is called Kings Albert, and it seems to be similar to other small villages.The next large town is Cranchester, about nine miles from us.In the village there is a fairly large railway station, a small post office, and two competing "department stores."Strong laborers generally leave their hometowns to venture into the world when they are young, but there is no shortage of unmarried women and veterans in the village.Our daily hobbies and pastimes are, in a word, "gossip".

Kings Albert village had only two decent large houses, the Royal Enclosure, which Mrs Ferrars inherited from her dead husband, and Finley Park, which belonged to Roger Ackroyd. .I've always been curious about Aykroyd because he's more of a squire than any other squire, always reminding me of the red-faced, sporty guy who comes in early in the first act of an old musical comedy. Guy, humming "Go to London" in the green countryside.Nowadays, farces that criticize the current situation are popular, and his image of a country gentleman has gradually faded out of the stage of musicals.

Of course, Aykroyd wasn't really a squire, but a manufacturer of (I guess) truck tires and a very big business.He was about fifty years old, ruddy, kind, well-connected with the parish priest, generous to church activities (though he was said to be very frugal on personal expenses), and frequently sponsored cricket matches, youth clubs, disabled Military association or something.In fact, he is the soul and soul of the quiet village of Kings Albert.

When Roger Ackroyd was only 21 years old, he fell in love with a beautiful young woman five or six years older than him and got married.Her name was Peyton, she was a widow with one child.The marriage was short and unhappy, and the blunt version is that Mrs Ackroyd was an alcoholic and died of alcoholism after only four years of marriage.

For many years thereafter, Aykroyd had no intention of remarrying.When the wife died, the child from her first marriage was only seven years old, and he is 25 years old this year.Aykroyd has always regarded him as his own son and raised him carefully, but the child has a bad temper and has often made his stepfather worry about it.Nevertheless, the villagers liked Ralph Paton, partly because of the boy's good looks and talent.

As I said, everyone in the village was a gossip, and Ackroyd's close association with Mrs Ferrars was noticed from the first.The affair became more apparent after Mr Ferrars' death.The two frequently went out in pairs, and people speculated that Mrs. Ferrars would be transformed into Mrs. Roger Ackroyd before the period of mourning was over.Coincidentally, Roger Ackroyd's ex-wife was known to have died of drinking, and Ashley Ferrars had been a drunkard for many years before his death.It is a beautiful thing for two people who have lost their spouses to alcohol to come together in compassion.

The Ferrars had only been in the village for a little over a year, but gossip about Ackroyd had been around for years.The Aykroyds went through several housekeepers in the course of Ralph Paton's adulthood, each of whom was seriously suspected by Caroline and her group of friends.It is conservatively estimated that for at least 15 years, the whole village believed that Ackroyd would marry one of his housekeepers.The current housekeeper, Miss Russell, is a formidable lady who has held the house for five years, more than twice as long as any of her predecessors.Everyone felt that, without Mrs. Ferrars' intervention, Ackroyd would not have escaped from Miss Russell's clutches; Came from Canada.Ackroyd's younger brother was nothing, and Mrs. Cecil Ackroyd settled at Finley Manor as a widow.According to Caroline, she managed to "settle down" Miss Russell.

I didn't know exactly what "settle down" meant--it sounded a little off-putting--but I knew that Miss Russell's pursed lips were sneering.She also publicly expressed her great sympathy for "poor Mrs. Aykroyd"-"I still have to live on the charity of my uncle. Can the feeling of living under the fence be good? If I can't support myself, it will be too miserable."

I don't know what Mrs. Cecil Ackroyd felt when the affair between Ackroyd and Mrs. Ferrars became public.It was clearly in Aykroyd's advantage to remain celibate.Whenever I saw Mrs. Ferrars, she was always very warm and courteous.Caroline said that proved nothing at all.

This has been the talk of Kings Albert Village for the past few years.Ackroyd and his various scandals have been discussed over and over again, and Mrs. Ferrars naturally has a place in it.

However, the world is unpredictable. Originally, everyone was still discussing the most suitable wedding gift, but in a blink of an eye, they were involved in a sudden tragedy.

I sorted out my thoughts and went out to make rounds as usual.There were no patients requiring special attention today, so my thoughts returned again and again to the mystery of Mrs Ferrars' sudden death.Did she commit suicide?Of course, if she really committed suicide, she would definitely leave a few words to explain her last wish, right?In my experience, women crave the spotlight.If you decide to commit suicide, you will usually announce the reasons why you pushed yourself to the end.

When was the last time you saw her?It's less than a week from today.Her behavior was pretty normal at the time, if you take into account...well, all of these things.

Then I suddenly remembered seeing her yesterday, though not talking to her.She was walking with Ralph Paton at the time.I was surprised because I hadn't expected him to show up at Kings Albert, after all he had had a big fight with his stepfather and hadn't been in the village for almost six months.They kept walking side by side, their heads close together, and she talked on and on, earnestly.

It can be said that it was at that time that an ominous premonition crossed my mind. Although there was no trace to be found, some inexplicable signs loomed.The warm whispers between Ralph Paton and Mrs. Ferrars yesterday made me sick.

I was thinking about it when I ran into Roger Aykroyd head-on.

"Sheppard!" he called loudly, "I was looking for you. It's too bad."

"You heard that too?"

He nodded, visibly devastated.His broad, rosy cheeks were sunken, and he was completely different from his usual healthy and happy image.

"Worse than you know," he said quietly. "I need to talk to you, Shepard. How about going back together now?"

"I'm afraid not. I still have three patients, and I have to go back to receive the surgical patients before twelve o'clock."

"Then this afternoon—no, it's better to have dinner together in the evening. Are you free at 07:30?"

"Okay, I'll arrange it. What's the matter? Is it Ralph's business?"

Don't know why I blurted it out—maybe it's because Ralph always gets in trouble.

Ackroyd stared at me blankly, as if he didn't know what was going on.I realize the seriousness of the situation.Aykroyd had never been so depressed.

"Ralph?" he said inexplicably. "Oh! no, not Ralph. Ralph's in London--damn! Miss Gannett's here, and I don't want to discuss something so dreadful with her. See you tonight." , Shepard. 07:30."

I nodded, and he left in a hurry, leaving me standing there dumbfounded.Ralph in London?But he was definitely at Kings Albert yesterday afternoon.He must have been in town again last night or early this morning, and from Ackroyd's tone he thought Ralph hadn't been in the village for months.

There was no time to delve into the mystery, for Miss Gannett was leaning over to find out what I had to say.Miss Gannett and Caroline were almost identical, but her ability to draw conclusions was much less rapid, so she was not as successful as Caroline.Miss Gannett pestered me with breathless questions.

Poor Mrs. Ferrars, what a pity.Many people say that she has been addicted to drugs for several years.Don't mention how vicious this kind of gossip is.But then again, the worst thing is that there is often a grain of truth in the foul language.There are no waves without wind!They also said that Mr. Ackroyd found out, too, and that was why they reneged on the engagement—because they had been engaged.Miss Gannett was convinced of it.Of course, I'm sure I've got all the inside information--the doctor's the best--but they never let it slip, do they?
As she went on and on, she caught all my reactions to this statement with her aggressive little eyes.Fortunately, the long-term confrontation with Caroline has allowed me to practice a set of calm and comfortable coping skills, and it is enough to echo a few innocuous words from time to time.

So I congratulate Miss Gannett for not becoming a gossip-monger.This counterattack can be described as straightforward and neat, which made her very embarrassed at once, and when she finally recovered, I had already slipped away.

I went home with a heavy heart and found that several patients were waiting to see a doctor.

After dismissing the last patient, as I expected, there are still a few minutes before lunch, and I can go to the garden for a while to meditate.Suddenly, I found another patient waiting, and saw her get up and come forward. I stood there dumbfounded, slightly surprised.

It's hard to tell where this surprise came from, but Miss Russell's rock-solid expression showed that the matter might not be as simple as physical discomfort.

Aykroyd's housekeeper is tall and has outstanding looks, but she has an attitude of repelling others thousands of miles away.Her eyes were serious and her lips were tightly pressed.I suddenly felt that if I worked as a maid or kitchen maid under her, it would be too late to escape just by hearing her voice.

"Good morning, Dr. Shepherd," began Miss Russell, "please look at my knee."

I took a look for her. To be honest, I was not very clear-headed at the time.The "dull pain" that Miss Russell described was unconvincing.Had it been any other woman with less integrity, I would have suspected her symptoms had been fabricated.I did suspect for a moment that Miss Russell might have deliberately used her bad knee as an excuse to come to me to find out about Mrs Ferrars' death, but I soon realized that she was wrongly blamed.She just mentioned it casually.But it seemed that she did intend to stay a little longer and chat with me.

"Well, thank you for prescribing the liniment, Doctor," she said at last, "I'm not really sure it's going to work, actually."

I also think that this medicine is useless, but due to my duty, I cannot help expressing my objection.In any case, there is no harm in applying some medicine, not to mention that people have to say a few words for their own jobs.

"I can't communicate with these medicines," Miss Russell glanced contemptuously at the row of medicine bottles on the shelf, "these medicines are three-part poisonous, just look at those addicts."

"Well, speaking of that—"

"Very popular among high society."

I am convinced that Miss Russell knows more about society than I do, and I do not intend to argue with her.

"Tell me, Doctor," said Miss Russell, "if you do get addicted, is there any way to get it off?"

This kind of question cannot be answered casually.I explained briefly, and she listened intently.I still suspect her attempt to inquire about Mrs. Ferrars.

"Then, in the case of sedatives—" I went on.

Oddly enough, she didn't seem interested in sedatives, but suddenly changed the subject and asked me if there were any rare poisons that escaped testing.

"Ah!" I said, "you've been reading detective novels lately."

She admitted that she was indeed reading.

"There are always strange poisons in detective novels," I said, "something that people have never heard of from South America-such as some strange tribe of savages put poison on arrowheads, and it can kill people in an instant, Even the advanced science of the West can't check it out. Do you mean this kind of thing?"

"Yes, are there any in the world?"

I shook my head regretfully: "I'm afraid not. Of course, there is a poison called curare poison."

I explained to her the properties of curare poison in detail, but once again she seemed to lose interest.She asked me if I had curare in my medicine cabinet, and I said no, which she expected.

She said she had to hurry back, and as I walked her outside the clinic, the gong rang for lunch.

I have no doubt that Miss Russell is a fan of detective novels, and I pictured with interest the following scene in her mind: she walks out of the housekeeper's room, reprimands some neglected maid, and then returns to the room to continue to enjoy Read The Mystery of the Seventh Death, or something like that.

(End of this chapter)