The Murder of Roger Ackroyd / Убийство Роджера Экройда

‘Good evening, doctor. Coming to dine? Or is this a professional call?’

The last was in allusion to my black bag which I had laid down on the oak chest.

I explained that I expected a summons to a confinement case at any moment, and so had come out prepared for an emergency call. Raymond nodded, and went on his way, calling over his shoulder:

‘Go into the drawing-room. you know the way. The ladies will be down in a minute. I must just take these papers to Mr Ackroyd, and I’ll tell him you’re here.’

On Raymond’s appearance Parker had withdrawn, so I was alone in the hall. I settled my tie, glanced in a large mirror which hung there, and crossed to the door directly facing me, which was, as I knew, the door of the drawing-room.

I noticed, just as I was turning the handle, a sound from within – the shutting down of a window, I took it to be. I noticed it, I may say, quite mechanically, without attaching any importance to it at the time.

I opened the door and walked in. As I did so I almost collided with Miss Russell who was just coming out. We both apologized.