Murder Of Roger Ackroyd By Agatha Christie

Oh yes not a penny we could call our own you know

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Unformatted text preview: wanted all those fal-lals for so like a man - but - now I've forgotten what it was I was going to say! Oh, yes, not a penny we could call our own, you know. Flora resented it - yes, I must say she resented it - very strongly. Though devoted to her uncle, of course. But any girl would have resented it. Yes, I must say Roger had very strange ideas about money. He wouldn't even buy new face towels, though I told him the old ones were in boles. And then,' proceeded Mrs Ackroyd, with a sudden leap highly characteristic of her conversation, 'to leave all that money - a thousand pounds, fancy, a thousand pounds! - to that woman.' 'What woman?' 'That Russell woman. Something very queer about her, and so I've always said. But Roger wouldn't hear a word against her. Said she was a woman of great force of character, and that he admired and respected her. He was always going on about her rectitude and independence and moral worth. / think there's something fishy about her. She was certainly doing her best to marry Roger. But I soon put a stop to that. She always hated me. Naturally. / saw through her.' I began to wonder if there was any chance of stemming Mrs Ackroyd's eloquence, and getting away. Mr Hammond provided the necessary diversion by coming up to say goodbye. I seized my chance and rose also. 'About the inquest,' I said. 'Where would you prefer it to be held? Here, or at the Three Boars?' Mrs Ackroyd stared at me with a dropped jaw. 'The inquest?' she asked, the picture of consternation. 'But surely there won't have to be an inquest?' Mr Hammond gave a dry little cough and murmured, 'Inevitable. Under the circumstances,' in two short little barks. 'But surely Dr Sheppard can arrange ' 'There are limits to my powers of arrangement,' I said drily. 'If his death was an accident ' 'He was murdered, Mrs Ackroyd,' I said brutally. She gave a little cry. 'No theory of accident will hold water for a minute.' Mrs Ackroyd looked at me in distress. I had no patience with what I thought was her silly fear of unpleasantness. 'If there's an inquest, I - I shan't have to answer questions and all that, shall I?' she asked. 'I don't know what will be necessary,' I answered. 'I imagine Mr Raymond will take the brunt of it off you. He knows all the circumstances, and can give formal evidence of identification.' The lawyer assented with a little bow. 'I really don't think there is anything to dread, Mrs Ackroyd,' he said. 'You will be spared all the unpleasantness. Now, as to the question of money, have you all you need for the present? I mean,' he added, as she looked at him inquiringly, 'ready money. Cash, you know. If not, I can arrange to let you have whatever you require.' 'That ought to be all right,' said Raymond, who was standing by. 'Mr Ackroyd cashed a cheque for a hundred pounds yesterday.' 'A hundred pounds?' 'Yes. For wages and other expenses due today. At the moment it is still intact.' 'Where is this money? In his desk?' 'No, he always kept his cash in his bedroom. In an old collar box, to be accurate. Funny id...
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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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