Leer The murder of Roger Ackroyd online gratis (en inglés)

"The Murder of Roger Ackroyd" by Agatha Christie is a detective novel published in 1926. When wealthy Roger Ackroyd is found stabbed in his study, the recently retired Hercule Poirot is called to investigate. The victim had recently learned the identity of a blackmailer from his fiancée, a widow who poisoned her husband. As Poirot unravels a complex web of secrets among the household guests and staff, the novel's narrator, local doctor James Sheppard, chronicles the investigation that leads to one of detective fiction's most controversial and groundbreaking conclusions. (This is an automatically generated summary.)

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Mrs. Ferrars died on the night of the 16th–17th September—a Thursday. I
was sent for at eight o’clock on the morning of Friday the 17th. There
was nothing to be done. She had been dead some hours.

It was just a few minutes after nine when I reached home once more. I
opened the front door with my latch-key, and purposely delayed a few
moments in the hall, hanging up my hat and the light overcoat that
I had deemed a wise precaution against the chill of an early autumn
morning. To tell the truth, I was considerably upset and worried. I am
not going to pretend that at that moment I foresaw the events of the
next few weeks. I emphatically did not do so. But my instinct told me
that there were stirring times ahead.

From the dining-room on my left there came the rattle of tea-cups and
the short, dry cough of my sister Caroline.

“Is that you, James?” she called.

An unnecessary question, since who else could it be? To tell the
truth, it was precisely my sister Caroline who was the cause of my few
minutes’ delay. The motto of the mongoose family, so Mr. Kipling tells
us, is: “Go and find out.” If Caroline ever adopts a crest, I should
certainly suggest a mongoose rampant. One might omit the first part
of the motto. Caroline can do any amount of finding out by sitting
placidly at home. I don’t know how she manages it, but there it is. I
suspect that the servants and the tradesmen constitute her Intelligence
Corps. When she goes out, it is not to gather in information, but to
spread it. At that, too, she is amazingly expert.

It was really this last named trait of hers which was causing me these
pangs of indecision. Whatever I told Caroline now concerning the demise
of Mrs. Ferrars would be common knowledge all over the village within
the space of an hour and a half. As a profe

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