The Murder of Roger Ackroyd / Убийство Роджера Экройда

His name, apparently, is Mr Porrott – a name which conveys an odd feeling of unreality. The one thing we do know about him is that he is interested in the growing of vegetable marrows.

But that is certainly not the sort of information that Caroline is after. She wants to know where he comes from, what he does, whether he is married, what his wife was, or is, like, whether he has children, what his mother’s maiden name was – and so on.

Somebody very like Caroline must have invented the questions on passports, I think.

‘My dear Caroline,’ I said. ‘There’s no doubt at all about what the man’s profession has been. he’s a retired hairdresser. Look at that moustache of his.’

Caroline dissented. She said that if the man was a hairdresser, he would have wavy hair – not straight. All hairdressers did.

I cited several hairdressers personally known to me who had straight hair, but Caroline refused to be convinced.

‘I can’t make him out at all,’ she said in an aggrieved voice. ‘I borrowed some garden tools the other day, and he was most polite, but I couldn’t get anything out of him. I asked him point blank at last whether he was a frenchman, and he said he wasn’t – and, somehow, I didn’t like to ask him any more.’