Well, you got up here, broke in the door, and found poor Mr Ackroyd like this.
How long should you say he had been dead, doctor?’
‘Half an hour at least - perhaps longer,’ I said.
‘The door was locked on the inside, you say?
What about the window?’
‘I myself closed and bolted it earlier in the evening at Mr Ackroyd’s request.’
The inspector strode across to it and threw back the curtains.
‘Well, it’s open now, anyway,’ he remarked, True enough, the window was open, the lower sash being raised to its fullest extent.
The inspector produced a pocket torch and flashed it along the sill outside.
‘This is the way he went all right,’ he remarked, ‘and got in.
See here.’
In the light of the powerful torch, several clearly defined footmarks could be seen.
They seemed to be those of shoes with rubber studs in the soles.
One particularly clear one pointed inwards, another, slightly overlapping it, pointed outwards.
‘Plain as a pikestaff,’ said the inspector.
‘Any valuables missing?’
Geoffrey Raymond shook his head. ‘Not so far that we can discover.
Mr Ackroyd never kept anything of particular value in this room.’
‘H’m,’ said the inspector. ‘Man found an open window, Climbed in, saw Mr Ackroyd sitting there - maybe he’d fallen asleep.
Man stabbed him from behind, then lost his nerve and made off.
But he’s left his tracks pretty clearly.
We ought to get hold of him without much difficulty.
No suspicious strangers been hanging about anywhere?’
‘Oh!’ I said suddenly. ‘What is it, doctor?’ ‘I met a man this evening - just as I was turning out of the gate.
He asked me the way to Fernly Park.’
‘What time would that be?’
‘Just nine o’clock.
I heard it chime the hour as I was turning out of the gate.’
‘Can you describe him?’
I did so to the best of my ability.
The inspector turned to the butler. ‘Anyone answering that description come to the front door?’
‘No, sir.
No one has been to the house at all this evening.’
‘What about the back?’
‘I don’t think so, sir, but I’ll make inquiries.’
He moved towards the door, but the inspector held up a large hand. ‘No, thanks. I’ll do my own inquiring.
But first of all I want to fix the times a little more clearly.
When was Mr Ackroyd last seen alive?’
‘Probably by me,’ I said, ‘when I left at - let me see about ten minutes to nine.
He told me that he didn’t wish to be disturbed, and I repeated the order to Parker.’
‘Just so, sir,’ said Parker respectfully.
‘Mr Ackroyd was certainly alive at half-past nine,’ put in Raymond, ‘for I heard his voice in here talking.’
‘Who was he talking to?’
‘That I don’t know.
Of course, at the time I took it for granted that it was Dr Sheppard who was with him.
I wanted to ask him a question about some papers I was engaged upon, but when I heard the voices I-remembered that he had said he wanted to talk to Dr Sheppard without being disturbed, and I went away again.
But now it seems that the doctor had already left?’
I nodded. ‘I was at home by a quarter past nine,’ I said.
‘I didn’t go out again until I received the telephone call.’
‘Who could have been with him at half-past nine?’ queried the inspector.