Убийство Роджера Экройда
Dinner at Fernly
Thenhelookedupsharply.
"You’resureyoushutthewindow?"hesaid.
"Quitesure,"Isaid,surprised."Why?""AllthiseveningI’vehadaqueerfeelingofbeingwatched,spiedupon.What’sthat"Heturnedsharply.SodidI.Webothhadtheimpressionofhearingthelatchofthedoorgiveeversoslightly.Iwentacrosstoitandopenedit.Therewasnoonethere.
"Nerves,"murmuredAckroydtohimself.
Heunfoldedthethicksheetsofpaper,andreadaloudinalowvoice.
"Mydear,myverydearRoger,–Alifecallsforalife.Iseethat–Isawitinyourfacethisafternoon.SoIamtakingtheonlyroadopentome.Ileavetoyouthepunishmentofthepersonwhohasmademylifeahelluponearthforthelastyear.Iwouldnottellyouthename,thisafternoon,butIproposetowriteittoyounow.Ihavenochildrenornearrelationstobespared,sodonotfearpublicity.Ifyoucan,Roger,myverydearRoger,forgivemethewrongImeanttodoyou,sincewhenthetimecame,Icouldnotdoitafterall…:Ackroyd,hisfingeronthesheettoturnitover,paused.
"Sheppard,forgiveme,butImustreadthisalone,"hesaidunsteadily."Itwasmeantformyeyes,andmyeyesonly."Heputtheletterintheenvelopeandlaiditonthetable.
"Later,whenIamalone.""No,"Icriedimpulsively,"readitnow."Ackroydstaredatmeinsomesurprise.
"Ibegyourpardon,"Isaid,reddening.
