Shorn of legal phraseology, and after paying certain legacies and bequests ‘
‘Such as - ?’ interrupted Poirot.
‘Mr Hammond seemed a little surprised. ‘A thousand pounds to his housekeeper. Miss Russell; fifty pounds to the cook, Emma Cooper; five hundred pounds to his secretary, Mr Geoffrey Raymond.
Then to various hospitals -’ Poirot held up his hand.
‘Ah! the charitable bequests, they interest me not.’
‘Quite so.
The income on ten thousand pounds’ worth of shares to be paid to Mrs Cecil Ackroyd during her lifetime.
Miss Flora Ackroyd inherits twenty thousand pounds outright.
The residue - including this property, and the shares in Ackroyd and Son - to his adopted son, Ralph Paton.’
‘Mr Ackroyd possessed a large fortune?’
‘A very large fortune.
Captain Paton will be an exceedingly wealthy young man.’
There was a silence.
Poirot and the lawyer looked at each other.
‘Mr Hammond,’ came Mrs Ackroyd’s voice plaintively from the fireplace.
The lawyer answered the summons.
Poirot took my arm and drew me right into the window.
‘Regard the irises,’ he remarked in a rather loud voice.
‘Magnificent, are they not? A straight and pleasing effect.’
At the same time I felt the pressure of his hand on my arm, and he added in a low tone:
‘Do you really wish to aid me? To take part in this investigation?’
‘Yes, indeed,’ I said eagerly.
‘There’s nothing I should like better.
You don’t know what a dull old fogey’s life I lead.
Never anything out of the ordinary.’
‘Good, we will be colleagues then.
In a minute or two I fancy Major Blunt will join us. He is not happy with the good mamma.
Now there are some things I want to know but I do not wish to seem to want to know them.
You comprehend?
So it will be your part to ask the questions.’
‘What questions do you want me to ask?’ I asked apprehensively.
‘I want you to introduce the name of Mrs Ferrars.’ ‘Yes?’ ‘Speak of her in a natural fashion.
Ask him if he was down here when her husband died.
You understand the kind of thing I mean.
And while he replies, watch his face without seeming to watch it.
C’est comprisT There was no time for more, for at that minute, as Poirot had prophesied. Blunt left the others in his abrupt fashion and came over to us.
I suggested strolling on the terrace, and he acquiesced.
Poirot stayed behind.
I stopped to examine a late rose. ‘How things change in the course of a day or two,’ I observed.
‘I was up here last Wednesday, I remember, walking up and down this same terrace.
Ackroyd was with me - full of spirits.
And now - three days later - Ackroyd’s dead, poor fellow.
Mrs Ferrars dead ~ you knew her, didn’t you?
But of course you did.’ Blunt nodded his head.
‘Had you seen her since you’d been down this time?’
‘Went with Ackroyd to call.
Last Tuesday, think it was.
Fascinating woman - but something queer about her.
Deep - one would never know what she was up to.’
I looked into his steady grey eyes.