Убийство Роджера Экройда

           Howsayyou,DoctorSheppard,shallweinvestigatethatsummer-house?Itinterestsme."Hewentuptothedoorandopenedit.Inside,theplacewasalmostdark.Therewereoneortworusticseats,acroquetset,andsomefoldeddeck-chairs.

           Iwasstartledtoobservemynewfriend.Hehaddroppedtohishandsandkneesandwascrawlingaboutthefloor.

           Everynowandthenheshookhisheadasthoughnotsatisfied.Finally,hesatbackonhisheels.

           "Nothing,"hemurmured."Well,perhapsitwasnottobeexpected.Butitwouldhavemeantsomuch"Hebrokeoff,stiffeningallover.Thenhestretchedouthishandtooneoftherusticchairs.Hedetachedsomethingfromonesideofit.

           "Whatisit?"Icried."Whathaveyoufound?"Hesmiled,unclosinghishandsothatIshouldseewhatlayinthepalmofit.Ascrapofstiffwhitecambric.

           Itookitfromhim,lookedatitcuriously,andthenhandeditback.

           "Whatdoyoumakeofit,eh,myfriend?"heasked,eyeingmekeenly.

           "Ascraptornfromahandkerchief,"Isuggested,shruggingmyshoulders.

           Hemadeanotherdartandpickedupasmallquill–agoosequillbythelookofit.

           "Andthat?"hecriedtriumphantly."Whatdoyoumakeofthat?"Ionlystared.

           Heslippedthequillintohispocket,andlookedagainatthescrapofwhitestuff.

           "Afragmentofahandkerchief?"hemused."Perhapsyouareright