The Murder Of Roger Ackroyd
Chapter 1. Dr Sheppard at the Breakfast
Mrs Ferrars died on the night of the 16th17th September - a
Thursday. I was sent for at eight o'clock on the morning of Friday the
17th. There was nothing to be done. She had been dead some hours.
It was just a few minutes after nine when I reached home once more.
I opened the front door with my latchkey, and purposely delayed a few
moments in the hall, hanging up my hat and the light overcoat that I
had deemed a wise precaution against the chill of an early autumn
morning. To tell the truth, I was considerably upset and worried. I am
not going to pretend that at that moment I foresaw the events of the
next few weeks. I emphatically did not do so.
But my instinct told me that there were stirring times ahead.
From the dining-room on my left there came the rattle of tea-cups
and the short, dry cough of my sister Caroline.
'Is that you, James?' she called.
An unnecessary question, since who ...