THE MURDER OF ROGER ACKROYD
the habit of frequenting. With such a cordon it seemed impossible that Ralph should be able to evade detection. He had no luggage, and, as far as any one knew, no money.
"I can't find any one who saw him at the station that night," continued the inspector. "And yet he's well known down here, and you'd think somebody would have noticed him. There's no news from Liverpool either."
"You think he went to Liverpool?" queried Poirot.
"Well, it's on the cards. That telephone message from the station, just three minutes before the Liverpool express left—there ought to be something in that."
"Unless it was deliberately intended to throw you off the scent. That might just possibly be the point of the telephone message."
"That's an idea," said the inspector eagerly. "Do you really think that's the explanation of the telephone call?"
"My friend," said Poirot gravely, "I do not know. But I will tell you this: I believe that when we find the explanation of that telephone call we shall find the explanation of the murder."
"You said something like that before, I remember," I observed, looking at him curiously.
Poirot nodded.
"I always come back to it," he said seriously.
"It seems to me utterly irrelevant," I declared.
"I wouldn't say that," demurred the inspector. "But I must confess I think Mr. Poirot here harps on it a little too much. We've better clews than that. The fingerprints on the dagger, for instance."
[146]
