The Murder of Roger Ackroyd / Убийство Роджера Экройда

I think I can safely say that it was at this moment that a foreboding of the future first swept over me. Nothing tangible as yet – but a vague premonition of the way things were setting. That earnest tête-à-tête between ralph Paton and Mrs ferrars the day before struck me disagreeably.

I was still thinking of it when I came face to face with Roger Ackroyd.

‘Sheppard!’ he exclaimed. ‘Just the man I wanted to get hold of. This is a terrible business.’

‘You’ve heard then?’

He nodded. he had felt the blow keenly, I could see. his big red cheeks seemed to have fallen in, and he looked a positive wreck of his usual jolly, healthy self.

‘It’s worse than you know,’ he said quietly. ‘Look here, Sheppard, I’ve got to talk to you. can you come back with me now?’

‘hardly. I’ve got three patients to see still, and I must be back by twelve to see my surgery patients.’

‘Then this afternoon – no, better still, dine tonight. At 7.30. Will that suit you?’

‘Yes, I can manage that all right. What’s wrong? Is it Ralph?’