“Yes. Nobody can overhear; don’t be uneasy.”

 

“Sheppard, nobody knows what I’ve gone through in the last twenty-four hours. If

a man’s house ever fell in ruins about him, mine has about me. This business of

Ralph’s is the last straw. But we won’t talk about that now. It’s the other—the

other——! I don’t know what to do about it.

 

And I’ve got to make up my mind soon.”

 

“What’s the trouble?”

 

Ackroyd remained silent for a minute or two. He seemed curiously averse to

begin. When he did speak, the question he asked came as a complete surprise. It

was the last thing I expected.

 

“Sheppard, you attended Ashley Ferrars in his last illness, didn’t you?”

 

“Yes, I did.”

 

He seemed to find even greater difficulty in framing his next question.

 

“Did you never suspect—did it ever enter your head—that—well, that he might have

been poisoned?”