Chapter 7
Learn My Neighbour’s Profession

On the following morning I hurried unforgivably over my round. My excuse can be that I had no very serious cases to attend. on my return Caroline came into the hall to greet me.

‘Flora Ackroyd is here,’ she announced in an excited whisper.

‘What?’ I concealed my surprise as best as I could.

‘She’s very anxious to see you. She’s been here half an hour.’

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.’

‘So that’s who he is,’ I said slowly.

‘You’ve heard of him, of course?’

‘I’m rather an old fogey, as Caroline tells me,’ I said, ‘but I have just heard of him.’

‘Extraordinary!’ commented Caroline.

I don’t know what she was referring to – possibly her own failure to discover the truth.

‘You want to go and see him?’ I asked slowly. ‘Now why?’

‘To get him to investigate this murder, of course,’ said Caroline sharply. ‘Don’t be so stupid, James.’

I was not really being stupid. caroline does not always understand what I am driving at.

‘You haven’t got confidence in inspector Davis?’ I went on.

‘Of course she hasn’t,’ said Caroline. ‘I haven’t either.’

Anyone would have thought it was Caroline’s uncle who had been murdered.

‘And how do you know he would take up the case?’ I asked. ‘Remember he has retired from active work.’

‘That’s just it,’ said Flora simply. ‘I’ve got to persuade him.’

‘You are sure you are doing wisely?’ I asked gravely.

‘Of course she is,’ said Caroline. ‘I’ll go with her myself if she likes.’

‘I’d rather the doctor came with me, if you don’t mind, Miss Sheppard,’ said Flora.

She knows the value of being direct on certain occasions. Any hints would certainly have been wasted on Caroline.

‘You see,’ she explained, following directness with tact, ‘dr Sheppard being the doctor, and having found the body, he would be able to give all the details to M. Poirot.’

‘Yes,’ said Caroline grudgingly, ‘I see that.’

I took a turn or two up and down the room.

‘Flora,’ I said gravely, ‘be guided by me. I advise you not to drag this detective into the case.’

Flora sprang to her feet. The colour rushed into her cheeks.

‘I know why you say that,’ she cried. ‘But it’s exactly for that reason I’m so anxious to go. You’re afraid! But I’m not. I know Ralph better than you do.’

‘Ralph!’ said Caroline. ‘What has Ralph got to do with it?’

Neither of us heeded her.

‘Ralph may be weak,’ continued Flora. ‘He may have done foolish things in the past – wicked things even – but he wouldn’t murder anyone.’

‘No, no,’ I exclaimed. ‘I never thought it of him.’

‘Then why did you go to the Three Boars last night?’ demanded Flora. ‘on your way home – after uncle’s body was found?’

I was momentarily silenced. I had hoped that that visit of mine would remain unnoticed.

‘How did you know about that?’ I countered.

‘I went there this morning,’ said Flora. ‘I heard from the servants that Ralph was staying there-’

I interrupted her.

‘You had no idea that he was in King’s Abbot?’

‘No. I was astounded. I couldn’t understand it. I went there and asked for him. They told me, what I suppose they told you last night, that he went out at about nine o’clock yesterday evening – and – and never came back.’

Her eyes met mine defiantly, and as though answering something in my look, she burst out:

‘Well, why shouldn’t he? He might have gone – anywhere. he may even have gone back to London.’

‘Leaving his luggage behind?’ I asked gently.

Flora stamped her foot.

‘I don’t care. There must be a simple explanation.’

‘And that’s why you want to go to Hercule Poirot? Isn’t it better to leave things as they are? The police don’t suspect Ralph in the least, remember. They’re working on quite another tack.’

‘But that’s just it,’ cried the girl. ‘They do suspect him. A man from Cranchester turned up this morning – inspector Raglan, a horrid, weaselly little man. I found he had been to the Three Boars this morning before me. They told me all about his having been there, and the questions he had asked. he must think Ralph did it.’

‘That’s a change of mind from last night, if so,’ I said slowly. ‘He doesn’t believe in Davis’s theory that it was Parker then?’

‘Parker indeed,’ said my sister, and snorted.

Flora came forward and laid her hand on my arm.

‘Oh! dr Sheppard, let us go at once to this M. Poirot. He will find out the truth.’

‘My dear Flora,’ I said gently, laying my hand on hers. ‘Are you quite sure it is the truth we want?’

She looked at me, nodding her head gravely.

‘You’re not sure,’ she said. ‘I am. I know Ralph better than you do.’

‘Of course he didn’t do it,’ said Caroline, who had been keeping silent with great difficulty. ‘ralph may be extravagant, but he’s a dear boy, and has the nicest manners.’

I wanted to tell Caroline that large numbers of murderers have had nice manners, but the presence of flora restrained me. Since the girl was determined, I was forced to give in to her and we started at once, getting away before my sister was able to fire off any more pronouncements beginning with her favourite words, ‘of course.’

An old woman with an immense Breton cap opened the door of The Larches to us. M. Poirot was at home, it seemed.

We were ushered into a little sitting-room arranged with formal precision, and there, after a lapse of a minute or so, my friend of yesterday came to us.

‘Monsieur le docteur,’ he said, smiling. ‘Mademoiselle.’ he bowed to Flora.

‘Perhaps,’ I began, ‘you have heard of the tragedy which occurred last night.’

His face grew grave.

‘But certainly I have heard. It is horrible. I offer mademoiselle all my sympathy. In what way can I serve you?’

‘Miss Ackroyd,’ I said, ‘wants you to – to-’

‘To find the murderer,’ said Flora in a clear voice.

‘I see,’ said the little man. ‘But the police will do that, will they not?’

‘They might make a mistake,’ said Flora. ‘They are on their way to make a mistake now, I think. Please, M. Poirot, won’t you help us? If – if it is a question of money-’

Poirot held up his hand.

‘Not that, I beg of you, mademoiselle. Not that I do not care for money.’ his eyes showed a momentary twinkle. ‘Money, it means much to me and always has done. No, if I go into this, you must understand one thing clearly. I shall go through with it to the end. The good dog, he does not leave the scent, remember! you may wish that, after all, you had left it to the local police.’

‘I want the truth,’ said flora, looking him straight in the eyes.

‘All the truth?’

‘All the truth.’

‘Then I accept,’ said the little man quietly. ‘And I hope you will not regret those words. Now, tell me all the circumstances.’

‘Dr Sheppard had better tell you,’ said Flora. ‘he knows more than I do.’

Thus enjoined, I plunged into a careful narrative, em- bodying all the facts I have previously set down. Poirot listened carefully, inserting a question here and there, but for the most part sitting in silence, his eyes on the ceiling.

I brought my story to a close with the departure of the inspector and myself from Fernly Park the previous night.

‘And now,’ said Flora, as I finished, ‘tell him all about Ralph.’

I hesitated, but her imperious glance drove me on.

‘You went to this inn – this Three Boars – last night on your way home?’ asked Poirot, as I brought my tale to a close. ‘Now exactly why was that?’

I paused a moment to choose my words carefully.

‘I thought someone ought to inform the young man of his uncle’s death. It occurred to me after I had left Fernly that possibly no one but myself and Mr Ackroyd were aware that he was staying in the village.’

Poirot nodded.

‘Quite so. That was your only motive in going there, eh?’

‘That was my only motive,’ I said stiffly.

‘It was not to – shall we say – reassure yourself about ce jeune homme?’

‘Reassure myself?’

‘I think, M. le docteur, that you know very well what I mean, though you pretend not to do so. I suggest that it would have been a relief to you if you had found that captain Paton had been at home all the evening.’

‘Not at all,’ I said sharply.

The little detective shook his head at me gravely.

‘You have not the trust in me of Miss Flora,’ he said. ‘But no matter. What we have to look at is this – captain Paton is missing, under circumstances which call for an explanation. I will not hide from you that the matter looks grave. Still, it may admit of a perfectly simple explanation.’

‘That’s just what I keep saying,’ cried Flora eagery.

Poirot touched no more upon that theme.

Instead he suggested an immediate visit to the local police. He thought it better for Flora to return home, and for me to be the one to accompany him there and introduce him to the officer in charge of the case.

We carried out this plan forthwith. We found inspector Davis outside the police station looking very glum indeed. With him was colonel Melrose, the chief constable, and another man whom, from Flora’s description of ‘weaselly’, I had no difficulty in recognizing as Inspector raglan from Cranchester.

I know Melrose fairly well, and I introduced Poirot to him and explained the situation. The chief constable was clearly vexed, and Inspector raglan looked as black as thunder. Davis, however, seemed slightly exhilarated by the sight of his superior officer’s annoyance.