Убийство Роджера Экройда / The Murder of Roger Ackroyd

THE MURDER  
OF ROGER ACKROYD

УДК	
372.8
ББК	
81.2 Англ-93
	
К 82
Agatha Christie
THE MURDER OF ROGER ACKROYD
В оформлении обложки использован 
фрагмент орнамента Уильяма Морриса
Кристи, Агата.
К 82	 Убийство Роджера Экройда : книга для чтения на английском языке. — Санкт-Петербург : 
КАРО, 2024. — 352 с. («Detective Story»).
ISBN 978-5-9925-1713-2.
В провинциальном английском городке Кингз Эббот, 
куда прославленный частный детектив Эркюль Пуаро удалился на покой и где собирался заняться выращиванием кабачков, произошло убийство. Подозреваются несколько человек, имеющие и возможности, и причины для совершения 
преступления. «Пенсионер» Пуаро, как всегда, с блеском расследовал дело.
Полный неадаптированный текст романа снабжен комментариями и словарем.
УДК 372.8 
ББК 81.2 Англ-93
© КАРО, 2024
ISBN 978-5-9925-1713-2

Об авторе
Об авторе
Замечательная английская писательница, королева 
детектива Агата Кристи родилась 15 сентября 1890 года 
в городке Торки, графство Девон. Образованием девочки занималась мама — Агата была очень «домашним» 
ребенком. События, происходившие в семье и в жизни 
друзей ее родителей, заставляли девочку задумываться, 
анализировать и фантазировать.
С началом Первой мировой войны Агата стала работать медсестрой в военном госпитале, где многое узнала о 
ядах — эти сведения в дальнейшем очень ей пригодились 
при создании детективных сюжетов. Именно тогда, в перерывах между дежурствами, она и начала писать детективы. В первом своем романе «Таинственное преступление в 
Стайлсе», который она написала, заключив пари со старшей сестрой, появился главный герой, частный детектив 
Эркюль Пуаро, эксцентричный маленький бельгиец, который постоянно нуждался в «сырье для работы серых 
клеточек головного мозга».
В 1914 году Агата Миллер вышла замуж за Арчибальда Кристи, у них родилась дочь Розалинда. Но в середине 
1920-х годов отношения супругов стали портиться. Арчи 
все свободное время проводил на поле для гольфа и общался только со своими партнерами по этой игре, а Агата, которой по статусу замужней женщины не полагалось появляться в обществе без мужа, страдала от одиночества. Однако от грустных мыслей ее отвлекал писательский труд. 
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THE MURDER OF ROGER ACKROYD
Утратив внимание мужа, она решила вызвать к себе интерес читающей публики. В результате в 1926 году появился 
блистательный роман «Убийство Роджера Экройда».
Сразу после публикации роман вызвал бурю страстей. 
«Ньюс Кроникл» назвала книгу «безвкусным неудачным 
разочарованием». Коллеги-писатели обвинили Агату Кристи в том, что она нарушила одну из «Десяти заповедей детективного романа», сформулированных Рональдом Ноксом: «Преступником должен быть кто-то, упомянутый в 
начале романа, но им не должен оказаться человек, за ходом мыслей которого читателю позволено следить». Существует даже история о том, будто бы ее исключили из Детективного клуба, но это не может быть правдой, так как 
клуб был организован в 1930 году, спустя несколько лет 
после выхода в свет романа. Но, так или иначе, публикация этой книги стала поворотным пунктом в карьере писательницы. Трюк, описанный в «Убийстве Роджера Экройда», был не просто предметом обсуждения, он сделал Агату знаменитой.
Итак, события романа разворачиваются в вымышленной английской деревне Кингз Эббот. Действие начинается со смерти миссис Феррар, богатой вдовы, по слухам, 
убившей своего мужа. Жители деревни полагают, что вдова совершила самоубийство, до тех пор, пока не погибает Роджер Экройд — вдовец, собиравшийся жениться на 
миссис Феррар. Под подозрением оказываются несколько человек. Роман имеет неожиданный финал, как это 
всегда бывает у Агаты Кристи.
История расставила все по своим местам. Теперь роман признан одним из лучших творений Агаты Кристи 
и шедевром детективного жанра. Благодаря новаторскому приему писательницы правило, гласящее, что читатель 
должен подозревать каждого из героев, получило новый 
смысл. Он попал в сотню лучших детективов XX века, составленную британской Независимой Ассоциацией продавцов детективной литературы.
4

Chapter 1
DR. SHEPPARD  
AT THE BREAKFAST TABLE
Chapter 1. Dr. Sheppard at the Breakfast Table
Mrs. Ferrars died on the night of the 16th–17th 
September  — a Thursday. I was sent for1 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 
latchkey, 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.
1	 I was sent for — (разг.) за мной послали
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THE MURDER OF ROGER ACKROYD
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. Kipling1 
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 knowledge2 all over the village 
within the space of an hour and a half. As a professional 
man, I naturally aim at discretion. Therefore I have 
got into the habit of continually withholding all 
information possible from my sister. She usually finds 
out just the same, but I have the moral satisfaction of 
knowing that I am in no way to blame.
Mrs. Ferrars’ husband died just over a year ago, 
and Caroline has constantly asserted, without the 
1	 Kipling — Редьярд Киплинг (1865–1936), английский писатель, Нобелевский лауреат (зд. имеется в виду 
его книга о мангусте «Рики-Тики-Тави»)
2	 would be common knowledge — (разг.) станет известно всем
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Chapter 1. Dr. Sheppard at the Breakfast Table
least foundation for the assertion, that his wife 
poisoned him. She scorns my invariable rejoinder 
that Mr. Ferrars died of acute gastritis, helped on by 
habitual overindulgence in alcoholic beverages. The 
symptoms of gastritis and arsenical poisoning are 
not, I agree, unlike, but Caroline bases her accusation 
on quite different lines.
“You’ve only got to look at her,” I have heard her 
say. Mrs. Ferrars, though not in her first youth, was 
a very attractive woman, and her clothes, though 
simple, always seemed to fit her very well, but all the 
same, lots of women buy their clothes in Paris, and 
have not, on that account, necessarily poisoned their 
husbands.
As I stood hesitating in the hall, with all this 
passing through my mind, Caroline’s voice came 
again, with a sharper note in it. “What on earth are 
you doing out there, James? Why don’t you come and 
get your breakfast?”
“Just coming, my dear,” I said hastily. “I’ve been 
hanging up my overcoat.”
“You could have hung up half a dozen overcoats in 
this time.” She was quite right. I could have. I walked 
into the dining-room, gave Caroline the accustomed 
peck on the cheek, and sat down to eggs and bacon. 
The bacon was rather cold.
“You’ve had an early call,” remarked Caroline.
“Yes,” I said. “King’s Paddock. Mrs. Ferrars.”
“I know,” said my sister.
“How did you know?”
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THE MURDER OF ROGER ACKROYD
“
Annie told me.” Annie is the house parlourmaid. 
A nice girl, but an inveterate talker.
There was a pause. I continued to eat eggs and 
bacon. My sister’s nose, which is long and thin, 
quivered a little at the tip, as it always does when she 
is interested or excited over anything. “Well?” she 
demanded.
“
A sad business. Nothing to be done. Must have 
died in her sleep.”
“I know,” said my sister again.
This time I was annoyed. “You can’t know,” I 
snapped. “I didn’t know myself until I got there, and 
haven’t mentioned it to a soul yet. If that girl Annie 
knows, she must be a clairvoyant.”
“It wasn’t Annie who told me. It was the milkman. 
He had it from the Ferrarses’ cook.” 
As I say, there is no need for Caroline to go out 
to get information. She sits at home and it comes to 
her1.
My sister continued: “What did she die of? Heart 
failure?”
“Didn’t the milkman tell you that?” I inquired 
sarcastically.
Sarcasm is wasted on Caroline. She takes it 
seriously and answers accordingly. “He didn’t know,” 
she explained.
After all, Caroline was bound to hear sooner or 
later. She might as well hear from me.
1	 it comes to her — (зд.) новости сами стекаются к ней
8

Chapter 1. Dr. Sheppard at the Breakfast Table
“She died of an overdose of veronal. She’s been 
taking it lately for sleeplessness. Must have taken too 
much.”
“Nonsense,” said Caroline immediately. “She took 
it on purpose. Don’t tell me!” 
It is odd, when you have a secret belief of your 
own which you do not wish to acknowledge, the 
voicing of it by someone else will rouse you to a fury 
of denial. I burst immediately into indignant speech. 
“There you go again,” I said. “Rushing along without 
rhyme or reason1. Why on earth should Mrs. Ferrars 
wish to commit suicide? A widow, fairly young still, 
very well off, good health, and nothing to do but 
enjoy life. It’s absurd.”
“Not at all. Even you must have noticed how 
different she has been looking lately. It’s been coming 
on for the last six months. She’s looked positively 
hag-ridden. And you have just admitted that she 
hasn’t been able to sleep.”
“What is your diagnosis?” I demanded coldly. “An 
unfortunate love affair, I suppose?” 
My sister shook her head. “Remorse,” she said, 
with great gusto.
“Remorse?”
“Yes. You never would believe me when I told 
you she poisoned her husband. I’m more than ever 
convinced of it now.”
1	 without rhyme or reason — (разг.) без всякого 
смысла
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THE MURDER OF ROGER ACKROYD
“I don’t think you’re very logical,” I objected. 
“Surely if a woman committed a crime like murder, 
she’d be sufficiently cold-blooded to enjoy the fruits 
of it without any weak-minded sentimentality such 
as repentance.”
Caroline shook her head. “There probably are 
women like that — but Mrs. Ferrars wasn’t one of them. 
She was a mass of nerves. An overmastering impulse 
drove her on to get rid of her husband because she was 
the sort of person who simply can’t endure suffering of 
any kind, and there’s no doubt that the wife of a man 
like Ashley Ferrars must have had to suffer a good 
deal…” 
I nodded. 
“
And ever since she’s been haunted by what she 
did. I can’t help feeling sorry for her.” 
I don’t think Caroline ever felt sorry for Mrs. Ferrars whilst she was alive. Now that she has gone 
where (presumably) Paris frocks can no longer be 
worn, Caroline is prepared to indulge in the softer 
emotions of pity and comprehension. I told her 
firmly that her whole idea was nonsense. I was all 
the more firm because I secretly agreed with some 
part, at least, of what she had said. But it is all wrong 
that Caroline should arrive at the truth simply by 
a kind of inspired guesswork. I wasn’t going to 
encourage that sort of thing. She will go round the 
village airing her views, and everyone will think 
that she is doing so on medical data supplied by me. 
Life is very trying.
10