The Murder of Roger Ackroyd / Убийство Роджера Экройда

As I say, there is no need for Caroline to go out to get information. She sits at home and it comes to her.

My sister continued: ‘What did she die of? Heart failure?’

‘Didn’t the milkman tell you that?’ I inquired sarcastically.

Sarcasm is wasted on Caroline. She takes it seriously and answers accordingly.

‘He didn’t know,’ she explained.

After all, Caroline was bound to hear sooner or later. She might as well hear from me.

‘She died of an overdose of veronal. She’s been taking it lately for sleeplessness. Must have taken too much.’

‘Nonsense,’ said Caroline immediately. ‘She took it on purpose. Don’t tell me!’

It is odd, when you have a secret belief of your own which you do not wish to acknowledge, the voicing of it by someone else will rouse you to a fury of denial. I burst immediately into indignant speech.

‘There you go again,’ I said. ‘rushing along without rhyme or reason. Why on earth should Mrs Ferrars wish to commit suicide? A widow, fairly young still, very well off, good health, and nothing to do but enjoy life. It’s absurd.’