“Everyone was out, or so I thought. And I went into Roger’s study⁠—I had some real reason for going there⁠—I mean, there was nothing underhand about it. And as I saw all the papers heaped on the desk, it just came to me, like a flash: ‘I wonder if Roger keeps his will in one of the drawers of the desk.’ I’m so impulsive, always was, from a child. I do things on the spur of the moment. He’d left his keys⁠—very careless of him⁠—in the lock of the top drawer.”

“I see,” I said helpfully. “So you searched the desk. Did you find the will?”

Mrs. Ackroyd gave a little scream, and I realized that I had not been sufficiently diplomatic.

“How dreadful it sounds. But it wasn’t at all like that really.”

“Of course it wasn’t,” I said hastily. “You must forgive my unfortunate way of putting things.”