THE MURDER OF ROGER ACKROYD
The butler spoke to Raymond.
"Mr. Hammond has just arrived, sir," he said. "He is anxious to know if he can be of any service, and he would be glad to have a word with you."
"I'll come at once," said the young man. He hurried out. Poirot looked inquiringly at the chief constable.
"The family solicitor, M. Poirot," said the latter.
"It is a busy time for this young M. Raymond," murmured M. Poirot. "He has the air efficient, that one."
"I believe Mr. Ackroyd considered him a most able secretary."
"He has been here—how long?"
"Just on two years, I fancy."
"His duties he fulfills punctiliously. Of that I am sure. In what manner does he amuse himself? Does he go in for le sport?"
"Private secretaries haven't much time for that sort of thing," said Colonel Melrose, smiling. "Raymond plays golf, I believe. And tennis in the summer time."
"He does not attend the courses—I should say the running of the horses?"
"Race meetings? No, I don't think he's interested in racing."
Poirot nodded and seemed to lose interest. He glanced slowly round the study.
"I have seen, I think, all that there is to be seen here."
I, too, looked round.
"If those walls could speak," I murmured.
Poirot shook his head.
"A tongue is not enough," he said. "They would have
[96]
