The Murder of Roger Ackroyd / Убийство Роджера Экройда

The description left me in no doubt.

‘That must be captain Ralph Paton,’ I said slowly.

‘I have not seen him about here before?’

‘No, he has not been here for some time. But he is the son – adopted son, rather – of Mr Ackroyd of Fernly Park.’

My neighbour made a slight gesture of impatience.

‘Of course, I should have guessed. Mr Ackroyd spoke of him many times.’

‘You know Mr Ackroyd?’ I said, slightly surprised.

‘Mr Ackroyd knew me in London – when I was at work there. I have asked him to say nothing of my profession down here.’

‘I see,’ I said, rather amused by this patent snobbery, as I thought it.

But the little man went on with an almost grandiloquent smirk.

‘One prefers to remain incognito. I am not anxious for notoriety. I have not even troubled to correct the local version of my name.’

‘Indeed,’ I said, not knowing quite what to say.

‘Captain Ralph Paton,’ mused Mr Porrott. ‘And so he is engaged to Mr Ackroyd’s niece, the charming Miss Flora.’

‘Who told you so?’ I asked, very much surprised.