{"id":2465,"date":"2026-01-03T22:31:16","date_gmt":"2026-01-03T22:31:16","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/the-murder-of-roger-ackroyd-christie-agatha\/"},"modified":"2026-01-03T22:31:16","modified_gmt":"2026-01-03T22:31:16","slug":"the-murder-of-roger-ackroyd-christie-agatha","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/the-murder-of-roger-ackroyd-christie-agatha\/","title":{"rendered":"The Murder of Roger Ackroyd – Christie, Agatha"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Book Preview<\/h3>\n
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One<\/span><\/span><\/h2>\n

DR<\/span>. SHEPPARD AT THE<\/span> BREAKFAST<\/span> TABLE<\/span><\/span><\/h2>\n<\/div>\n
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M<\/span><\/span>rs. Ferrars died on the night of the 16th\u201317th September\u2014a Thursday. I was sent for at eight o\u2019clock on the morning of Friday the 17th. There was nothing to be done. She had been dead some hours.<\/p>\n

It was just a few minutes after nine when I reached home once more. I opened the front door with my latchkey, and purposely delayed a few moments in the hall, hanging up my hat and the light overcoat that I had deemed a wise precaution against the chill of an early autumn morning. To tell the truth, I was considerably upset and worried. I am not going to pretend that at that moment I foresaw the events of the next few weeks. I emphatically did not do so. But my instinct told me that there were stirring times ahead.<\/p>\n

From the dining room on my left there came the rattle of teacups and the short, dry cough of my sister Caroline.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs that you, James?\u201d she called.<\/p>\n

An unnecessary question, since who else could it be? To tell the truth, it was precisely my sister Caroline who was the cause of my few minutes\u2019 delay. The motto of the mongoose family, so Mr. Kipling tells us, is: \u201cGo and find out.\u201d If Caroline ever adopts a crest, I should certainly suggest a mongoose rampant. One might omit the first part of the motto. Caroline can do any amount of finding out by sitting placidly at home. I don\u2019t know how she manages it, but there it is. I suspect that the servants and the tradesmen constitute her Intelligence Corps. When she goes out, it is not to gather in information, but to spread it. At that, too, she is amazingly expert.<\/p>\n

It was really this last named trait of hers which was causing me these pangs of indecision. Whatever I told Caroline now concerning the demise of Mrs. Ferrars would be common knowledge all over the village within the space of an hour and a half. As a professional man, I naturally aim at discretion. Therefore I have got into the habit of continually withholding all information possible from my sister. She usually finds out just the same, but I have the moral satisfaction of knowing that I am in no way to blame.<\/p>\n

Mrs. Ferrars\u2019 husband died just over a year ago, and Caroline has constantly asserted, without the least foundation for the assertion, that his wife poisoned him.<\/p>\n

She scorns my invariable rejoinder that Mr. Ferrars died of acute gastritis, helped on by habitual overindulgence in alcoholic beverages. The symptoms of gastritis and arsenical poisoning are not, I agree, unlike, but Caroline bases her accusation on quite different lines.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019ve only got to look at her,\u201d I have heard her say.<\/p>\n

Mrs. Ferrars, though not in her first youth, was a very attractive woman, and her clothes, though simple, always seemed to fit her very well, but all the same, lots of women buy their clothes in Paris, and have not, on that account, necessarily poisoned their husbands.<\/p>\n

As I stood hesitating in the hall, with all this passing through my mind, Caroline\u2019s voice came again, with a sharper note in it.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat on earth are you doing out there, James? Why don\u2019t you come and get your breakfast?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJust coming, my dear,\u201d I said hastily. \u201cI\u2019ve been hanging up my overcoat.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou could have hung up half a dozen overcoats in this time.\u201d<\/p>\n

She was quite right. I could have.<\/p>\n

I walked into the dining room, gave Caroline the accustomed peck on the cheek, and sat down to eggs and bacon. The bacon was rather cold.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019ve had an early call,\u201d remarked Caroline.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d I said. \u201cKing\u2019s Paddock. Mrs. Ferrars.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know,\u201d said my sister.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow did you know?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnnie told me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Annie is the house parlourmaid. A nice girl, but an inveterate talker.<\/p>\n

There was a pause. I continued to eat eggs and bacon. My sister\u2019s nose, which is long and thin, quivered a little at the tip, as it always does when she is interested or excited over anything.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell?\u201d she demanded.<\/p>\n

\u201cA sad business. Nothing to be done. Must have died in her sleep.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know,\u201d said my sister again.<\/p>\n

This time I was annoyed.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou can\u2019t know,\u201d I snapped. \u201cI didn\u2019t know myself until I got there, and haven\u2019t mentioned it to a soul yet. If that girl Annie knows, she must be a clairvoyant.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt wasn\u2019t Annie who told me. It was the milkman. He had it from the Ferrarses\u2019 cook.\u201d<\/p>\n

As I say, there is no need for Caroline to go out to get information. She sits at home and it comes to her.<\/p>\n

My sister continued:<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat did she die of? Heart failure?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDidn\u2019t the milkman tell you that?\u201d I inquired sarcastically.<\/p>\n

Sarcasm is wasted on Caroline. She takes it seriously and answers accordingly.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe didn\u2019t know,\u201d she explained.<\/p>\n

After all, Caroline was bound to hear sooner or later. She might as well hear from me.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe died of an overdose of Veronal. She\u2019s been taking it lately for sleeplessness. Must have taken too much.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNonsense,\u201d said Caroline immediately. \u201cShe took it on purpose. Don\u2019t tell me!\u201d<\/p>\n

It is odd, when you have a secret belief of your own which you do not wish to acknowledge, the voicing of it by someone else will rouse you to a fury of denial. I burst immediately into indignant speech.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere you go again,\u201d I said. \u201cRushing along without rhyme or reason. Why on earth should Mrs. Ferrars wish to commit suicide? A widow, fairly young still, very well off, good health, and nothing to do but enjoy life. It\u2019s absurd.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot at all. Even you must have noticed how different she has been looking lately. It\u2019s been coming on for the last six months. She\u2019s looked positively hag-ridden. And you have just admitted that she hasn\u2019t been able to sleep.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat is your diagnosis?\u201d I demanded coldly. \u201cAn unfortunate love affair, I suppose?\u201d<\/p>\n

My sister shook her head.<\/p>\n

\u201cRemorse,\u201d<\/span> she said, with great gusto.<\/p>\n

\u201cRemorse?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes. You never would believe me when I told you she poisoned her husband. I\u2019m more than ever convinced of it now.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t think you\u2019re very logical,\u201d I objected. \u201cSurely if a woman committed a crime like murder, she\u2019d be sufficiently cold-blooded to enjoy the fruits of it without any weak-minded sentimentality such as repentance.\u201d<\/p>\n

Caroline shook her head.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere probably are women like that\u2014but Mrs. Ferrars wasn\u2019t one of them. She was a mass of nerves. An overmastering impulse drove her on to get rid of her husband because she was the sort of person who simply can\u2019t endure suffering of any kind, and there\u2019s no doubt that the wife of a man like Ashley Ferrars must have had to suffer a good deal\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

I nodded.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd ever since she\u2019s been haunted by what she did. I can\u2019t help feeling sorry for her.\u201d<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t think Caroline ever felt sorry for Mrs. Ferrars whilst she was alive. Now that she has gone where (presumably) Paris frocks can no longer be worn, Caroline is prepared to indulge in the softer emotions of pity and comprehension.<\/p>\n

I told her firmly that her whole idea was nonsense. I was all the more firm because I secretly agreed with some part, at least, of what she had said. But it is all wrong that Caroline should arrive at the truth simply by a kind of inspired guesswork. I wasn\u2019t going to encourage that sort of thing. She will go round the village airing her views, and everyone will think that she is doing so on medical data supplied by me. Life is very trying.<\/p>\n

\u201cNonsense,\u201d said Caroline, in reply to my strictures. \u201cYou\u2019ll see. Ten to one she\u2019s left a letter confessing everything.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe didn\u2019t leave a letter of any kind,\u201d I said sharply, and not seeing where the admission was going to land me.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh!\u201d said Caroline. \u201cSo you did<\/span> inquire about that, did you? I believe, James, that in your heart of hearts, you think very much as I do. You\u2019re a precious old humbug.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOne always has to take the possibility of suicide into consideration,\u201d I said impressively.<\/p>\n

\u201cWill there be an inquest?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThere may be. It all depends. If I am able to declare myself absolutely satisfied that the overdose was taken accidentally, an inquest might be dispensed with.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd are you absolutely satisfied?\u201d asked my sister shrewdly.<\/p>\n

I did not answer, but got up from the table.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

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Book Preview One DR. SHEPPARD AT THE BREAKFAST TABLE Mrs. Ferrars died on the night of the 16th\u201317th September\u2014a Thursday. I was sent for at eight o\u2019clock on the morning of Friday the 17th. There was nothing to be done. She had been dead some hours. It was just a few minutes after nine when … Read more<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":2464,"comment_status":"","ping_status":"","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[142],"class_list":["post-2465","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-agatha-christie"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2465","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2465"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2465\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2464"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2465"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2465"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2465"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}