THE MURDER OF ROGER ACKROYD
"If there's an inquest, I—I shan't have to answer questions and all that, shall I?" she asked.
"I don't know what will be necessary," I answered. "I imagine Mr. Raymond will take the brunt of it off you. He knows all the circumstances, and can give formal evidence of identification."
The lawyer assented with a little bow.
"I really don't think there is anything to dread, Mrs. Ackroyd," he said. "You will be spared all unpleasantness. Now, as to the question of money, have you all you need for the present? I mean," he added, as she looked at him inquiringly, "ready money. Cash, you know. If not, I can arrange to let you have whatever you require."
"That ought to be all right," said Raymond, who was standing by. "Mr. Ackroyd cashed a cheque for a hundred pounds yesterday."
"A hundred pounds?"
"Yes. For wages and other expenses due to-day. At the moment it is still intact."
"Where is this money? In his desk?"
"No, he always kept his cash in his bedroom. In an old collar-box, to be accurate. Funny idea, wasn't it?"
"I think," said the lawyer, "we ought to make sure the money is there before I leave."
"Certainly," agreed the secretary. "I'll take you up now. . . . Oh! I forgot. The door's locked."
Inquiry from Parker elicited the information that Inspector Raglan was in the housekeeper's room asking a few supplementary questions. A few minutes later the inspector joined the party in the hall, bringing the key with
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