Murder Of Roger Ackroyd By Agatha Christie

Murder Of Roger Ackroyd By Agatha Christie

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Unformatted text preview: , and all the cordiality froze out of her manner. She looked uncomfortable and ill at ease. 'Ursula Bourne?' she said hesitatingly. 'Yes,' I said. 'Perhaps you don't remember the name?' 'Oh, yes, of course. I - I remember perfectly.' 'She left you just over a year ago, I understand?' 'Yes. Yes, she did. That is quite right.' 'And you were satisfied with her whilst she was with you? How long was she with you, by the way?' 'Oh! a year or two - I can't remember exactly how long. She - she is very capable. I'm sure you will find her quite satisfactory. I didn't know she was leaving Fernly. I hadn't the least idea of it.' 'Can you tell me anything about her?' I asked. 'Anything about her?' 'Yes, where she comes from, who her people are - that sort of thing?' Mrs Folliott's face wore more than ever its frozen look. 'I don't know at all.' 'Who was she with before she came to you?' 'I'm afraid I don't remember.' There was a spark of anger now underlying her nervousness. She flung up her head in a gesture that was vaguely familiar. 'Is it really necessary to ask all these questions?' 'Not at all,' I said, with an air of surprise and a tinge of apology in my manner. 'I had no idea you would mind answering them. I am very sorry.' Her anger left her and she became confused again. 'Oh! I don't mind answering them. I assure you I don't. Why should I? It - it just seemed a little odd, you know. That's all. A little odd.' One advantage of being a medical practitioner is that you can usually tell when people are lying to you. I should have know from Mrs Folliott's manner, if from nothing else, that she did mind answering my questions - minded intensely. She was thoroughly uncomfortable and upset, and there was plainly some mystery in the background. I judged her to be a woman quite unused to deception of any kind, and consequently rendered acutely uneasy when forced to practise u- A child could have seen through her. But it was also clear the she had no intention of telling me ^ything further. Whatever the mystery centring round Ursula Bourne might be, I was not going to learn it through Mrs Folliott. Ill Defeated, I apologized once more for disturbing her, took my hat and departed. I went to see a couple of patients and arrived home about six o'clock. Caroline was sitting beside the wreck of tea things. She had that look of suppressed exultation on her face which I know only too well. It is a sure sign with her of either the getting or the giving of information. I wondered which it had been. 'I've had a very interesting afternoon,' began Caroline, as I dropped into my own particular easy-chair and stretched out my feet to the inviting blaze in the fireplace. 'Have you?' I said. 'Miss Gannett drop in to tea?' Miss Gannett is one of the chief of our newsmongers. 'Guess again,' said Caroline, with intense complacency. I guessed several times, working slowly through all the members of Caroline's Intelligence Corps. My sister received each guess with a triumphant shake of the head. In...
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This note was uploaded on 07/28/2011 for the course LITERATURE 101 taught by Professor Agathachristie during the Spring '11 term at Heritage.

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