Roger Mystery

Chapter 8 The Dinner Party at Finley Manor (1)
A few minutes after 07:30, I rang the doorbell at Finley Manor.Butler Parker opened the door respectfully.

It was a pleasant night, so I came on foot.As soon as I stepped into the spacious square lobby, Parker stepped forward to help me take off my coat.At this moment Aykroyd's secretary, Raymond - a pleasant young man - was walking across the hall to Aykroyd's study, holding a large stack of papers in his hand.

"Good evening, doctor. Are you here for a dinner? Or are you on a medical call?"

He saw the black bag I had on the oak medicine chest, and that's why he asked.

I explained that there was a pregnant woman who was about to give birth and might call me in at any time, so I had to be prepared for a doctor's visit when I went out.Raymond nodded and walked on, then turned to greet me again.

"Go to the parlour, you know the way. The ladies will be here shortly, and I must first give these papers to Mr. Ackroyd, and let him know that you are here."

Parker had backed off as soon as Raymond showed up, so I was alone in the lobby at the moment.I adjusted my tie in front of the large mirror on the wall, and went straight to the door leading to the living room directly opposite.

Just as he was about to turn the doorknob, he heard a sound coming from the room—it seemed to be the sound of closing the window.I noticed this quite reflexively, without realizing its significance at the time.

I opened the door and went in, almost bumping into Miss Russell, who was going out.We all hurriedly apologized.

I judged the housekeeper secretly for the first time, thinking that she must have been pretty in her youth--and she is still pretty now.Her hair was black with not a single strand of silver in it; and when she blushed, as now, the icy sternness was less conspicuous.

I subconsciously guessed that she might have just come back from outside, because she was panting, as if she had just run.

"I'm afraid I'm a little early," I said.

"Oh, no, no, it's past 07:30, Dr Shepard." She paused, then added, "I - I didn't know you were coming tonight, Mr Ackroyd didn't mention it. "

I vaguely sensed that my coming to the banquet made her feel a little uncomfortable, but I couldn't figure out why.

"Is your knee better?" I asked with concern.

"As usual, thank you, doctor. I must go, Mrs Ackroyd will be downstairs in a moment. I--I just came in just to see if the flowers were arranged."

She hurriedly left the room.I strolled to the window, wondering why she was so desperate for an excuse to explain her presence in the living room.Then I noticed that the floor-to-ceiling windows opened onto the terrace, which I would have noticed if I had been paying attention.From this point of view, it is obvious that the sound just now cannot be the closing of the window.

I was really bored, and in order to distract my attention and avoid entanglement with those annoying things, I simply started to guess where the sound just now came from, just for my own entertainment.

The sound of coals burning in the fireplace?No, not at all.The sound of closing drawers?No, neither.

Then a piece of furniture caught my eye. They called it a silver table.The lid of the desktop can be opened upwards, and the objects stored inside can be seen through the glass.I went to the table and examined it carefully, and saw one or two pieces of old silverware, a baby shoe worn by Charles I, some jade statues from China, and many antiques from Africa.In order to enjoy an emerald statue more carefully, I lifted the cover of the table, and it slipped from my fingers without paying attention.

The voice just now appeared again.It turned out that someone had carefully closed the cover of the silver table.To satisfy my curiosity, I tried again and again twice, and finally lifted the lid to study the contents carefully.

I was bending over the open silver table when Flora Aykroyd entered.

Many people don't like Flora Aykroyd, but they can't help but admire her, and she is even more attractive in front of friends.The first impression she gave people was that extraordinary beauty: she had light golden hair similar to Nordic people, her eyes were blue and clear—just like the blue waves rippling in the Norwegian fjords, and her snow-white skin revealed a rose-like red Her straight shoulders and slender waist are full of youthfulness. For me, a male doctor who has been overwhelmed by various patients, her health and vitality are really refreshing.

Straightforward English maiden—maybe I'm an oldie, but I think jade in the rough has to be polished to shine.

Flora came over to the silver table to watch with me, and took issue with whether Charles I actually wore the shoe.

"Anyway," Miss Flora went on, "it's boring to make a fuss about it and make it a marvel just because so-and-so wore it or used it. They don't wear or use it now anyway. That pen that George Eliot wrote The Mill on the Floss—whatever—well, isn’t it just a pen? If you really like George Eliot, you might as well buy a copy of Floss. Read the paperback copy of The Mill on the Ross."

"Surely you never read such outdated stuff, Miss Flora?"

"You are mistaken, Dr. Sheppard. The Mill on the Floss is my favorite."

This makes me very happy.These days, there are still young girls who like to read this kind of books, and they do not deny their preferences, which is quite unexpected to me.

"You haven't congratulated me yet, Dr. Shepherd," said Flora, "haven't you heard?"

She stretched out her left hand, and on her middle finger was a ring with a precious pearl inlaid on it.

"I'm going to marry Ralph," she said. "Uncle is very happy, and it's going to make the kiss even better."

I hurriedly held her hands. "Honey, I wish you happiness."

"We've been engaged for nearly a month," said Flora quietly, "but it wasn't announced publicly until yesterday. Uncle is going to fix up the house at Cross Rock and give it to us as a new home. We're going to put on a little farm work, but I actually have plans to go hunting all winter, go to town for the holidays, and then go on a yacht trip. I love the sea. And, of course, I'm very interested in parish charity, and I attend every 'Mothers' event. .”

At this moment Mrs. Ackroyd hurried in, apologizing hurriedly for being late.

Unfortunately, Mrs Ackroyd is a person I find quite disgusting.She was full of jewels, and she was skinny, and in short, she was a very annoying woman.Those small eyes were filled with a cold light blue color, no matter how warm she was verbally, there was still a frosty and deep demeanor in her eyes.

I went towards her, leaving Flora alone by the window.She held out a bony, ring-covered hand for me to hold, and began babbling away.

—Have you heard the news of Flora's engagement?It's perfect in every way.The two young people fell in love at first sight, they were a match made in heaven, he was so dark and she was so fair.

"I don't know how to describe it, Dr. Shepherd, I am a mother who is relieved at last."

Mrs. Ackroyd sighed—while singing the praises of her own motherly love, those eyes still looked at me shrewdly.

"There is one thing which is ashamed to say. You and dear Roger have known each other for many years, and we both know that he relies heavily on your judgment. I would not be able to do it--as poor Cecil's Widow, my position is embarrassing. But there are still many troubles - the distribution of property and such, you know. I am [-]% sure that Roger is going to leave the family property to dear Flora, but, as you know , his attitude towards money is a little special. I heard that almost all the big bosses in business are like this. I wonder if you can enlighten him on this issue? Flora is very fond of you, we all Treat you as an old friend, although we have only known each other for a little over two years."

The drawing-room door opened again, and Mrs. Ackroyd had to stop her long speech.I'm relieved, because I hate meddling in other people's housework, and I'm not going to listen to Ackroyd about Flora's inheritance.If someone hadn't come in in time, I'm afraid I'd have to explain it to Mrs Ackroyd again.

"Do you know Major Brant, doctor?"

"Of course I do." I replied.

A lot of people know Hector Brandt—or at least have heard of him.As far as I know, even in areas where ordinary people cannot set foot, his hunting results are extremely fruitful.When his name was mentioned, people said: "Brant—you mean the hunting king, don't you?"

The friendship between him and Ackroyd has always puzzled me.The two men had very different personalities. Hector Brant was about five years younger than Aykroyd. The two had become friends at an early age.Almost every two years, Brant would come to Finley Manor for a fortnight.Whenever you step into the front door of the manor mansion, you will see a huge animal head staring at you head-on, surrounded by an astonishing number of rhino horns, which is the eternal testimony of their friendship.

Brant entered the room with his characteristic, deliberate, soft gait.He was of medium height, stocky and strong, with a reddish-brown face, expressionless and queer, and gray eyes that seemed to always be looking into the distance.He was reticent and stammered even when he spoke occasionally, as if those words were forced out of his mouth unwillingly.

"Hello, Shepard." He greeted me with his usual abruptness, and then stood straight in front of the fireplace, looking over our heads, as if he were watching something happening in Timbuktu. fun.

"Major Brant," said Flora, "tell me all those African anecdotes. You must know everything."

Hector Brant was said to be very misogynistic, but I noticed that he walked up to Flora with alacrity, and they both bent over the collection on the silver table.

Fearing that Mrs Ackroyd was about to repeat the subject of distribution, I hastened to the new variety of sweet peas.I just learned about a new variety of sweet peas from this morning's Daily Mail.Mrs Aykroyd knew nothing about gardening, but she liked to pretend she knew all about the hot topics of the day, and she was a reader of the Daily Mail.So we had a smart chat, until Aykroyd and his secretary joined in.After a while, Parker came to announce that dinner was ready.

At dinner I sat between Mrs Ackroyd and Flora, Brant sat on the other side of Mrs Ackroyd, and next to him was Geoffrey Raymond.

The atmosphere at the dinner party was not cheerful, and Aykroyd was obviously preoccupied, haggard, and hardly ate anything.Mrs. Ackroyd, Raymond, and I maintained the atmosphere of the conversation anyway; Flora seemed to be infected by her uncle and was also depressed; Brant remained silent as usual.

As soon as the banquet was over, Aykroyd held me by the arm and pulled me to the study.

"No one is in the way when the coffee is delivered," he explained. "I have told Raymond not to be disturbed by anyone."

I took a closer look secretly, and he was clearly in a state of extreme agitation, wandering back and forth in the room for a few minutes.Then Parker brought the coffee on a tray, and he sat down in the armchair in front of the fireplace.

The environment in the study is very comfortable: bookshelves occupying the entire wall, a large dark blue leather chair; there is a large desk in front of the window, on which there are neatly stacked classified files, and on another round table are various magazines and sports newspaper.

"Recently, my old problem has reappeared, and it hurts when I eat," Aykroyd said calmly while drinking coffee. "You should prescribe me more of those pills."

I was a little taken aback by his eagerness to dress this dialogue as a question of medical advice, but it also played along with it.

"I guessed it a long time ago, so I brought some with me."

"It's really thoughtful, give it to me quickly."

"The medicine is in the leather bag in the hall, I'll get it right away."

Ackroyd held out his hand to stop me. "You don't have to go in person, just let Parker do it for you. Parker, go and get the doctor's bag."

"Okay, sir."

Parker backed away, and I was about to speak when Aykroyd raised his hand.

"No hurry, we'll talk later. Can't you see that I'm so nervous that I can't hold it?"

In fact, I have seen it for a long time, and I am also restless, with thousands of ominous premonitions coming to my heart.

Immediately Aykroyd spoke again.

"Go and see, are the windows closed?" he asked.

I was slightly surprised, got up and went to the window.This is not a floor-to-ceiling window, but an ordinary lattice window.The thick blue velvet curtains were drawn tightly, but the windows were open at the top.

I was checking the window when Parker came in again with my bag.

(End of this chapter)