Chapter 2 CHAPTER TWO Celebrities in Kim Abbot Village

Celebrities in King Abbot Village Before Caroline and I continue our conversation, I might as well give you a little bit about the geography of our village.The name of this village is Kim Abbott, and there is no obvious difference from other villages.The next large town is Cranchester, nine miles away.There is a rather large railway station, a small post office, and two "department stores" facing each other.Most of the talented men left the area when they were young, but we have a lot of rich bachelorettes and ex-officers here.Our hobbies and pastimes can be summed up in one word: "chat".

In King Abbot Village, there are only two decent houses.One was Kim Paddock, left to Mrs. Ferrars when her husband died.The other was Fernley Court, owned by Roger Ackroyd.I've always been interested in him because he doesn't look like a country gentleman at all.When I see him, I think of the rosy-cheeked, athletic character from the first act of an old-fashioned musical comedy.Such comedies are always set against green fields of the country, and they usually go to London humming a little tune.Whereas we are now performing a satire of current affairs, the squire has disappeared from the musical form.

Of course, Aykroyd wasn't really a country gentleman, he was a very good wheel builder.Nearly fifty years old, with a ruddy complexion, he treats people kindly.He was very close to the vicar, and gave large sums to the church as parish relief, despite rumors that he was stingy with his personal spending.He also generously funded cricket matches, youth clubs, and sanatoriums for disabled soldiers.In fact he brought life and energy to the peaceful village of Kim Abbot. Roger Ackroyd fell in love with a pretty young woman five or six years his senior when he was twenty-one, and married her in the same year.Her name was Peyton, and she was a widow with one child.Their marriage was not long and life was full of misfortunes.To put it bluntly, Mrs. Ackroyd was an alcoholic, and died of alcoholism after four years of marriage.

For many years after his wife's death, Aykroyd never considered remarrying.Ralph Paton, the child of his wife and ex-husband, lost his mother's love when he was seven years old. He is now twenty-five years old.Ackroyd had always raised him as his own son, but the boy was rough and troublesome, and his stepfather worried about him.Still, in the village of Kim Abbot, people love him.One of the reasons is that the young man is handsome and handsome. In our village, as has been said, everyone loves small talk, and the affair between Mr. Ackroyd and Mrs. Ferrars was first noticed.Since the death of Mrs. Ferrars' husband, their illicit intimacy has become more apparent.People see the two of them together all the time.One even ventured to speculate that once the period of mourning was over Mrs Ferrars would become Mrs Roger Ackroyd.Indeed, people feel that things are a bit of a coincidence.Roger Ackroyd's wife was known to have died of alcoholism, and Ashley Ferrars was also an alcoholic before his death.The widows of the two drunken dead could have made up for each other, made a suitable pair, and made up for the pain the dead had caused them.

Ferrars hadn't been living here very long, just over a year, but gossip about Ackroyd had been going on for years.During Ralph Paton's upbringing there had been several housekeepers in charge of Aykroyd's mansion, each of whom had been suspected by Caroline and her group of friends.For at least fifteen years the whole village had been convinced, and not without reason, that Ackroyd would marry one of the housekeepers.The last housekeeper, Miss Russell, was the one who aroused the most suspicion.She presided over the house for five years undisputed, more than twice as long as previous housekeepers.It was thought that Ackroyd could not have escaped Miss Russell but for the presence of Mrs. Ferrars.Of course there was another reason. His sister-in-law who had died unexpectedly returned from Canada with her daughter.Mrs Cecil Ackroyd, the widow of Ackroyd's worthless brother, lived at Fernley Court upon her return.According to Caroline, she was very successful in stopping Miss Russell's inappropriate behaviour.

I don't know exactly what "inappropriate behavior" means - it sounds chilling and unpleasant - but I know that Miss Russell always pouted, which I can only take as a wry smile.She felt great sympathy for poor Mrs Ackroyd.She once said: "It's so pitiful to live on the charity of my uncle. The bread of charity is bitter, isn't it? If I don't support myself and support myself by my own labor, it will be miserable." Speaking of Ferrars's Thing, I don't know what Mrs Cecil Ackroyd thinks.It would undoubtedly be to her advantage if Mr. Ackrods did not marry.Whenever she met Mrs. Ferrars, she always paid her attention--not to mention a warm greeting.Caroline said she did all of this to no avail.

That's what Kim Abbot's place has impressed us with over the past few years.We talked about Aykroyd and some things about him from various angles, and of course Mrs Ferrars was one of the central figures in the discussion. Now we readjust the angle of the kaleidoscope, from the much-talked-about possible wedding gift to the tragedy. After I had thought all of this over and over, I went out on my usual rounds.I had no serious patients to diagnose, so the mystery of Mrs. Ferrars' sudden death ran over and over again in my mind.Did she commit suicide?Certainly.If it was suicide, she would definitely leave a last word, telling people what she wanted to do.According to my experience, once a woman makes up her mind to commit suicide, she usually tells the reason for suicide.All they wanted was to get the truth out.

When was the last time I saw her?Not even a week.Her behavior is still normal, and she has to think twice about everything. Then it occurred to me that I had seen her yesterday even though I hadn't spoken to her.She was walking with Ralph Paton, and I was surprised because I hadn't even expected him to be in Kim Abbot Village.I always thought he had a falling out with his stepfather and didn't show up here for almost six months.They had been walking side by side, their heads very close to each other.She spoke with great sincerity. I can say with certainty that at this moment a bad omen arose in my heart.While I'm not in trouble yet, I have a vague hunch based on the situation.It makes me sick to think of Ralph Paton and Mrs Ferrars walking head-to-head together the day before.

I was still thinking about it when I met Roger Aykroyd face to face. "Sheppard!" he cried, "I was looking for you, and it was a very dreadful thing." "Have you heard?" He nodded.It can be seen that he has suffered a heavy blow.The flush on his face disappeared, his usual joy was gone, and his body collapsed. "Worse than you know," he said quietly. "Come here, Shepard, I have something to tell you. Will you come home with me now?" "I'm afraid not, I have three patients waiting." I have to go back to take care of the surgical patients before twelve o'clock." "Then this afternoon—no, let's have dinner together in the evening, how about half past seven?" "Well, I will be there on time. What's the matter? Is it Ralph's business?" I don't know why I'm asking--probably because I've been thinking about Ralph.

Ackroyd stared at me blankly, as if he didn't understand anything.I began to realize that something must be terribly wrong.I've never seen him so distraught before. "No Ralph?" he mumbled. "Oh, it's not him, Ralph's in London—to hell with him! Old Miss Gannett's coming, and I don't want her to know such a dreadful thing. See you in the evening, Shepard, half past seven." I nodded, and he hurried away, and I stood there wondering.Ralph in London?But he was literally in King Abbot yesterday afternoon.He must have been back in London last night or this morning.But judging from Ackroyd's attitude and tone of voice, he didn't seem to know anything. He only knew that Ralph hadn't been in this area for several months.

I don't have time to unravel the mystery further.Miss Gannett was eager to ask me for news as soon as she saw me.Miss Gannett has exactly the same habits as my sister Caroline, but Caroline has a way of finding out exactly what to ask and draw conclusions, which is something that Miss Gannett lacks. .Miss Gannett asked me some breathless questions. Poor Mrs Ferrars.Many people say that she has been using drugs for many years and became addicted.It's nasty to say things like that, but the worst part is that there's always a grain of truth in what people say.There are no waves without wind!They also said that Mr Ackroyd also knew about it and broke off her engagement - they were indeed engaged.Miss Gannett had solid evidence to prove it.Of course, as a doctor I have to know all this, it is the nature of a doctor. Miss Gannett's little wary eyes fixed on me after those probing words, to see what I could do.Fortunately, my long association with Caroline had given me a calmness which I was always ready to deal with with insignificant words. This time Miss Gannett was not involved in the malicious gossip, and I was glad for her.I used some clever words to fend off her temptation, and she couldn't figure it out for a while.When she came to her senses, I was already far away. I was thinking about something on the way home, and when I got home I found several patients waiting for me in the surgery room. I finished seeing the last patient, and it was still some time before lunch.I came to the garden and meditated on some issues.Suddenly, I found that there was another patient waiting for me.She got up and came to me.I stood there blankly, a little surprised in my heart. I do not know why I should be surprised, but it may be that Miss Russell has an indomitable air, an air of otherworldliness. Aykroyd's housekeeper was tall and handsome, but her air was menacing and daunting.Her eyes were stern and her lips were tightly shut.I had the feeling that if I had been one of her maids or kitchenmaids, I would run like a mouse at the sight of a cat at the sound of her footsteps. "Good morning, Dr. Shepard," said Miss Russell, "please do me a favor with your knee." I glanced at her.To be honest, I was pretty clear-headed when looking at her knees.I don't quite believe what Miss Russell says about the pain, and if she's a dishonest woman, I'm sure I'll suspect her knee troubles are fabricated.It occurred to me for a moment that Miss Russell might have used her troubled knee to inquire into the cause of Mrs Ferrars' death, but I soon saw that I was wrong.She just mentioned the death briefly and didn't ask anything else, but she did want to stay a little longer and talk to me. "Oh, thank you for the rub, doctor," she said at last, "not because I believe it's going to do anything." , but out of my doctor's duty, I refuted her innocence.Anyway, there's no harm in using the drug, and as a doctor I have to make some excuses for my profession. "I don't believe in any of these medicines," said Miss Russell, scanning contemptuously the row of vials on the shelf. "Drugs do a lot of harm, you just have to look at those cocaine addicts." "Well, for that matter—" "It's very popular among the upper classes." I'm sure Miss Russell is more I know more about the upper class, so I don't want to argue with her. "I want to ask you something, doctor," said Miss Russell. "If you are really addicted to drugs, is there any cure?" This kind of question can't be answered all at once. I just gave her a brief explanation, and she listened very carefully.I still suspect that she was using the question to find out about Mrs. Ferrars. "Yes, like Verona—" I went on. But the strange thing is that she doesn't seem to be interested in Verona at all.She changed the subject abruptly and asked me if there was indeed a rare poison that could not be detected after taking it. "Ah!" I said, "you've read detective novels?" She admitted that she had. "The best part of a detective story is to get a rare poison—in South America, if possible, that no one has ever heard of—with which a little-known savage tribe paints Put it on bows and arrows, people will be poisoned and die as soon as they touch it, and the advanced science in the West cannot detect this kind of poison. Is this what you want to know?" "Yes, is there such a thing in the world? ’ I shook my head regretfully. "I'm afraid there is no such thing. Of course, there is a poison called curare." I told her a lot about the properties of curare, but she didn't seem interested.She asked me if I had the poison in my drug cabinet and I replied no.It can be seen from her expression at this time that her estimation is consistent with my answer. She got up to take her leave and I walked her to the door of the surgery room when the gong for lunch sounded. I should not doubt Miss Russell's taste for detective stories.I smugly imagined her reading detective novels: she walked out of the housekeeper's room, gave a reprimand to the neglected maid, and then returned to the comfort of her room to concentrate on reading "Mystery of the Seventh Death" or other detective novels.