Part One
Date: 2015-10-07; view: 496.
VII
Ay.
"I have not the slightest idea—but I honestly believe that the mystery will be solved.
Felise clasped her hands. "It is a wonderful idea," she exclaimed.
Her eyes were alight with enthusiasm. Jack did not feel nearly so enthusiastic—in fact, he was afraid of it, but
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nothing would have forced him to admit the fact before Felise. The doctor acted as though his suggestion were the most natural one in the world.
"When can you get the jar?" asked Felise, turning to Jack.
"To-morrow," said the latter, unwillingly.
He went to his uncle's house the following evening and took away the jar in question. He was more than ever convinced when he saw it again that it was the identical one pictured in the water colour sketch.
It was eleven o'clock when he and Lavington arrived at Heather Cottage. Felise was on the look-out for them, and opened the door softly before they had time to knock.
"Come in," she whispered. "My father is asleep upstairs, and we must not wake him. I have made coffee for you in here."
She led the way into a small cosy sitting-room.
Jack unwrapped the Chinese jar. Felise gasped as her eyes fell on it.
"But yes, but yes," she cried eagerly. "That is it—I would know it anywhere."
Meanwhile Lavington was making his own preparations. He removed all the things from a small table and set it in the middle of the room. Round it he placed three chairs. Then, taking the blue jar from Jack, he placed it in the centre of the table.
"Now," he said, "we are ready. Turn off the lights, and let us sit round the table in the darkness."
The others obeyed him. Lavington's voice spoke again out f î the darkness.
"Think of nothing—or of everything. Do not force the mind. It is possible that one of us has mediumistic powers. If so, that person will go into a trance. Remember, there is nothing to fear. Cast out fear21 from your hearts, and drift—drift—"
It was not fear that Jack felt—it was panic. And he was almost certain that Felise felt the same way. Suddenly he heard her voice, low and terrified.
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"Something terrible is going to happen. I feel it."
"Cast out fear," said Lavington. "Do not fight against the influence."
The darkness seemed to get darker and the silence more acute. And nearer and nearer came that indefinable sense of menace.
Jack felt himself choking—stifling—the evil thing was very near.—
And then the moment of conflict passed. He was drifting, drifting down stream—his lids closed—peace—darkness™
Jack stirred slightly22. His head was heavy—heavy as lead. Where was he?
Sunshine ... birds ... He lay staring up at the sky.
Then it all came back to him. The little sitting-room. Felise and the doctor. What had happened?
He sat up and looked round him. He was lying not far from the cottage. No one else was near him. He took out his watch. To his surprise it registered half past twelve.
Jack struggled to his feet23, and ran as fast as he could in the direction of the cottage. They must have been alarmed by his failure to come out of the trance, and carried him out into the open air.
Arrived at the cottage, he knocked loudly on the door. But there was no answer, and no signs of life about it. They must have gone off to get help. Or else—Jack felt an indefinable fear invade him. What had happened last night?
He made his way back to the hotel as quickly as possible. He was about to make some inquiries at the office, when he got a colossal punch in the ribs which nearly knocked him off his feet. Turning in some indignation, he saw a whitehaired old gentleman merrily laughing.
"Didn't expect me, my boy. Didn't expect me, hey?" said this individual
"Why, Uncle George, I thought you were miles away— it Italy somewhere."
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"Ah! but I wasn't. Landed at Dover last night. Thought I'd motor up to town and stop here to see you on the way. And what did I find. Out all night, hey? Nice goings on" "Uncle George," Jack checked him firmly. "I've got the most extraordinary story to tell you. I dare say you won't believe it."
"I dare say I shan't," laughed the old man. "But do your best, my boy."
"But I must have something to eat," continued Jack. "I'm hungry."
He led the way to the dining-room, and over a substantial meal, he told the whole story.
"And God knows what's become of them," he ended.
His uncle seemed on the verge of apoplexy2*.
"The jar," he managed to cry out at last. "THE BLUE JAR! What's become of that?"
Jack stared at him without understanding, but under the torrent of words that followed he began to understand.
It came with a rush: "Worth ten thousand pounds at least—offer from Hoggenheimer, the American millionaire—only one of its kind in the world—what have you done with my BLUE JAR?"
Jack rushed from the room. He must find Lavington. The young lady at the office eyed him coldly.
"Dr. Lavington left late last night—by motor. He left a note for you."
Jack tore it open. It was short and to the point.
'My Dear Young Friend,
Is the day of the supernatural over? Kindest regards from Felise, invalid father, and myself. We have twelve hours start, which is quite enough.
Yours ever,
Ambrose Lavington,
Doctor of the Soul'
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NOTES:
1 topped drive — íåïðàâèëüíûé óäàð (â ãîëüôå)
2 petrified — â îöåïåíåíèé
3 course — çä. ïëîùàäêà äëÿ èãðû â ãîëüô
4 shrank back from him — îòïðÿíóëà
5 shellshock — êîíòóçèÿ
6 delusion—ãàëëþöèíàöèÿ
7 hoax — îáìàí, øóòêà
* rumours — ñëóõè
9 acute strain — ñèëüíîå íàïðÿæåíèå
10 damned callous — ÷åðòîâñêè áåçäóøíû
11 you suggestioned yourself — âû óáåäèëè ñåáÿ
12 not consciously — ïîäñîçíàòåëüíî
13 spirits — äóõè
14 from all I can make out — íàñêîëüêî ÿ ïîíèìàþ
15 inquiries — ñïðàâêè
16 folly — ãëóïîñòü
17 the house is haunted — â äîìå æèâåò ïðèâèäåíèå
"Alas! —Óâû!
19 faded away — ðàññòàÿë
20 nightmare — êîøìàð
21 Cast out fear — îòáðîñüòå ñòðàõ
22 stirred slightly — ñëåãêà ïîøåâåëèëñÿ
23 struggled to his feet — ñ òðóäîì ïîäíÿëñÿ
24 on the verge of apoplexy — íà ãðàíè óäàðà
Comprehension:
1) What happened to Jack Hartington one morning?
2) Why was the young man afraid that he was getting
mad?
3) Whom did he make acquiantance with?
4) Why did he fully trust Lavington?
5) Why did Felise come to Jack one day and what did she
tell him about?
6) In what way was the blue jar connected with her story?
7) What happened at night?
8) Who revealed the truth to Jack Hartington?
195
The Flock of Geryon1
A. Christie I
"I really apologize for bothering you, M. Poirot."
Miss Carnaby leaned forward, looking anxiously into Poirot's face. She said: "You do remember me, don't you?"
Hercule Poirot smiled. He said: "I remember you as one of the most successful criminals that I have ever met."
"Oh dear me, M. Poirot, must you really say such things? You were so kind to me. Emily and I often talk about you, and if we see anything about you in the paper we cut it out at once. As for Augustus, we have taught him a new trick. We say, 'Die for M. Hercule Poirot,' and he goes down and lies like a log."
"I'm gratified," said Poirot. "He is so clever. But what has brought you here, Miss Carnaby?"
Miss Carnaby's nice round face grew worried and sad. She said: "Oh M. Poirot, I was going to consult you. I have been anxious lately about a friend of mine. Of course, you may say it is all an old maid's fancy—just imagination."
"I do not think you would imagine things, Miss Carnaby. Tell me what worries you."
"Well, I have a friend, a very dear friend, though I have not seen very much of her lately. Her name is Emmeline Clegg. She married a man and he died a few years ago leaving her a big sum of money. She was unhappy and lonely after his death and I am afraid she is in some ways a rather foolish woman. Religion, M. Poirot, can be a great help and consolation—but not these odd sects there are so many around. They have a kind of emotional appeal but sometimes I have very grave doubts as to whether there are any true religious feelings behind them at alL"
"You think your friend has become a victim of a sect of this kind?"
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"I do. Oh! I certainly do. The Flock of the Shepherd,* they call themselves. Their headquarters is in Devonshire—a very lovely estate by the sea. The whole sect centres round the head of the movement, the Great Shepherd, he is called. A Dr. Andersen. A very handsome man, I believe."
"Which is attractive to the women, yes?"
"I am afraid so," Miss Carnaby sighed.
"Are the members of the sect mostly women?"
"At least three quarters of them, I think. It is upon the women that the success of the movement depends and— and on the funds they supply."
"Ah," said Poirot. "Now I see. Frankly, you think the whole thing is a ramp?"
"Frankly, M. Poirot, I do. And another thing worries me. I know that my poor friend is so devoted to this religion that she has recently made a will leaving all her property to the movement. What really worries me is—"
"Yes—go on—"
"Several very rich women have been among the devotees. In the last year three of them have died."
"Leaving all their money to this sect?"
"Yes."
Poirot nodded thoughtfully. Miss Carnaby hurried on:
"Of course I've no right to suggest anything at alL From what I have been able to find out, there was nothing wrong about any of these deaths. One, I believe, was pneumonia following influenza and another was attributed to gastric ulcer. There were absolutely no suspicious circumstances and the deaths did not take place in Devonshire, but at their own homes. I've no doubt it is quite all right, but all the same—I—well—I shouldn't like anything to happen to Emmie."
Poirot was silent for some minutes. Then he said:
"Will you give me, or will you find out for me, the names and addresses of these members of the sect who have recently died?"
"Yes indeed, M. Poirot."
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Poirot said slowly:
"Mademoiselle, I think you are a woman of great courage and determination. Will you be able to do a piece of work that may be associated with considerable danger?"
"I should like nothing better," said the adventurous Miss Carnaby.
Poirot said warningly:
"If there is a risk at all, it will be a great one. You understand—either this is all a mare's nest3 or it is serious. To find out which it is, it will be necessary for you yourself to become a member of the Great Flock. You'll pretend to be a rich woman with no definite aim in life. You'll allow your friend Emmeline to persuade you to go down to Devonshire. And there you will fall a victim to the magnetic power of Dr. Andersen. I think I can leave that to you?"
Miss Carnaby smiled modestly. She murmured:
"I think I can manage that all right."
II
"Well, my friend, what have you got for me? Have you learned anything about this Dr. Andersen?"
Chief Inspector Japp looked thoughtfully at Poirot. He said:"I've looked up Dr. Andersen's past history. He was a promising chemist but was expelled from some German University. He was always keen on the study of Oriental Myths and Religions and has written various articles on the subject—some of the articles sound pretty crazy to me."
"So it is possible that he is a genuine fanatic?"
"It seems quite likely."
"What about those names and addresses I gave you?"
"Nothing suspicious there. Miss Everitte died of ulcer-ative colitis. Mrs. Lloyd died of pneumonia. Lady Western died of tuberculosis. Had suffered from it many years ago. Miss Lee died of typhoid somewhere in the north of England. There is nothing to connect these deaths with the Great Flock or with Andersen's place down in Devonshire. Must be no more than coincidence."
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Hercule Poirot sighed. He said:
"And yet, mon cher, I have a feeling that this Dr. Andersen is the Monster Geryon whom it is my mission to destroy."
* * *
Hercule Poirot said:
"You must obey my instructions very carefully, Miss Carnaby. You understand?"
"Oh yes, Mr. Poirot. You may rely on me."
"You have spoken of your intention to benefit the sect?"
"Yes, Mr. Poirot, I spoke to the Master—excuse me, to Dr. Andersen, myself. I told him very emotionally how I had come to Flock and remained to believe. Really it seemed quite natural to say all these things. Dr. Andersen, you know, has a lot of magnetic charm."
"So I think," said Hercule Poirot dryly.
"His manner was most convincing. One really feels he doesn't care about money at alL "Give what you can," he said smiling. "It does not matter. You are one of the Flock just the same." "Oh, Dr. Andersen," I said, "I am not poor at all." And then I explained that I had inherited a considerable amount of money from a distant relative and that I wanted to leave in my will all I had to the Brotherhood. I explained that I had no near relatives."
"And he accepted the gift?"
"He was very indifferent about it. Said it would be many long years before I died, that he could tell I had a long life of joy in front of me. He really speaks most movingly."
"So it seems."
Poirot's tone was dry. He went on:
"You mentioned your health?"
"Yes, Mr. Poirot, I told him I had lung trouble, though why it is necessary for me to say that I am ill when my lungs are as sound as a bell I really cannot see."
"Be sure it is necessary. You mentioned your friend?"
"Yes. I told him strictly confidentially that dear Emmeline, besides the fortune she had inherited from her
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husband, would inherit an even larger sum shortly from an aunt who was deeply attached to her."
"Good. That must keep Mrs. Clegg safe for some time."
"Oh, Mr. Poirot, do you really think there is anything wrong?"
"That is what I am going to find out. Have you met a Mr. Cole at the Sanctuary?"
"There was a Mr. Cole there last time I went down to Devonshire. A most extraordinary man. He wears grass-green shorts and eats nothing but cabbage. He is a very ardent believer."
"All progresses well—I make you my compliments on the work you have done—all is now set for the Autumn Festival."
Ill
On the afternoon preceding the Festival Miss Carnaby met Hercule Poirot in a small restaurant. Miss Carnaby was flushed and even more breathless than usual.
Poirot asked several questions to which she replied only "yes" or "no". Then he said: "Good. You know what you have to do?"
There was a moment's pause before Miss Carnaby said in a rather odd voice:
"I know what you told me, Mr. Poirot."
"Very good."
Then Amy Carnaby said clearly and distinctly:
"But I am not going to do it."
Hercule Poirot stared at her. Miss Carnaby rose to her feet. Her voice was fast and hysterical.
"You sent me here to spy on Dr. Andersen. You suspected him of all sorts of things. But he is a wonderful man—a great Teacher. I believe in him heart and souL And I am not going to do your spying work any more, M. Poirot. I am one of the Sheep of the Shepherd. And I'll pay for my tea myself."
With these words Miss Carnaby threw down one shilling and rushed out of the restaurant.
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The waitress had to ask him twice before Poirot realized that she was giving him the bill. He met the curious stare of an unfriendly looking man at the next table, flushed, paid the bill and went out.
* * •
The Sheep were assembled for the traditional festival.
The Festival took place in the white concrete building called by the Sheep the Sacred Fold. Here the devotees assembled just before the setting of the sun. They wore sheep-skin cloaks and had sandals on their feet. Their arms were bare. In the centre of the Fold on a raised platform stood Dr. Andersen. The big man, golden-haired and blue-eyed, with his fair beard and handsome profile had never seemed more magnificent. He was dressed in a green robe and carried a shepherd's crook of gold.
The ritual questions and answers had been chanted.
Then the Great Shepherd said:
"Are you prepared for the Sacrament?"
"We are."
"Shut your eyes and hold out your right arm."
The crowd obediently shut their eyes. Miss Carnaby like the rest held her arm out in front of her. The Great Shepherd, magnificent in his green robe, moved along the waiting lines... He stood by Miss Carnaby. His hands touched her arm...
"No, you won't do it!"
Mr. Cole aided by another devotee grasped the hand of the Great Shepherd who was struggling to get himself free. In rapid professional tones, the former Mr. Cole was saying: "Dr. Andersen, I have here a warrant for your arrest."
There were other figures now at the door of the Sheep Fold—blue uniformed figures.
Someone cried, "It's the police. They're taking the Master away. They're taking the Master..."
Everyone was shocked—horrified™ To them the Great Shepherd was a martyr, suffering, as all great teachers, from the ignorance and persecution of the outside world.
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Meanwhile Detective Inspector Cole was carefully packing up the syringe that had fallen from the Great Shepherd's hand.
IV
"My brave colleague!"
Poirot shook Miss Carnaby warmly by the hand and introduced her to Chief Inspector Japp.
"First class work, Miss Carnaby," said Chief Inspector Japp. "We couldn't have done it without you."
"Oh dear!" Miss Carnaby was flattered. "It's so kind of you to say so. And I'm afraid, that I've really enjoyed it all. The excitement, you know, and playing my part. I really felt I was one of those foolish women."
"That's where your success lay," said Japp. "You were very genuine. Otherwise you wouldn't have been hypnotized by that gentleman. He's a pretty smart scoundrel."
Miss Carnaby turned to Poirot.
"That was a terrible moment in the restaurant. I didn't know what to do. It was such a shock. Just when we had been talking confidentially I saw in the glass that Lipscomb, who keeps the Lodge of the Sanctuary,4 was sitting at the table behind me. I don't know now if it was an accident or if he had actually followed me. I had to do the best I could in this situation and hope that you would understand."
Poirot smiled.
"I did understand. There was only one person sitting near enough to overhear anything we said and as soon as I left the restaurant I followed him. He went straight back to the Sanctuary. So I understood that I could rely on you and that you would not let me down—but I was afraid because it increased the danger for you."
"Was—was there really danger? What was there in the syringe?"
Japp said: "Will you explain or shall I?"
Poirot said gravely:
"Mademoiselle, this Dr. Andersen devised a scheme of exploitation and murder—scientific murder. Most of his
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life has been spent in bacteriological research. Under a different name he has a chemical laboratory in Sheffield. There he makes cultures of various bacilli It was his practice at the Festivals to inject into his followers a small but sufficient dose of Cannabis Indica—which is also known by the name of Hashish. It gives the sensation of great and pleasurable enjoyment. It bound his devotees to him. These were the Spiritual Joys that he promised them."
"Most remarkable," said Miss Carnaby. "Really a most remarkable sensation."
Hercule Poirot nodded.
"That was the secret of his popularity—a dominating personality, the power of creating mass hysteria and the reactions produced by this drug. But he had a second aim in view."
"Lonely women made wills leaving their money to the Cult. One by one, these women died. Without being too technical I will try to explain. It is possible to make intensified cultures of certain bacteria. The bacillus Coli Communis, for instance, is the cause of ulcerative colitis. Typhoid bacilli can be introduced into the system. So can the Pneumococcus. You realize the cleverness of the man? These deaths would occur in different parts of the country, with different doctors attending them and without any risk of arousing suspicion.
"He's a devil, if there ever was one," said Chief Inspector Japp.
Poirot went on.
"By my orders, you told him that ybu suffered from tuberculosis. There was a tuberculin in the syringe when Cole arrested him. It is harmless to a healthy person but stimulates any old tubercular lesion into activity. Since you were a healthy person it would not have harmed you, that is why I asked you to tell him you had suffered from a tubercular trouble. I was afraid that even now he might choose some other germ, but I respected your courage and I had to let you take the risk."
"Oh, that's all right," said Miss Carnaby brightly. "I don't mind taking risks. I'm only frightened of bulls in
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fields and things like that But have you enough evidence to convict this dreadful person?"
Japp grinned. "Plenty of evidence," he said. "We've got his laboratory and his cultures and the whole equipment."
Poirot said:
"It is possible, I think, that he has committed a long line of murders."
Miss Carnaby sighed.
"I was thinking," she said, "of a marvellous dream I had. I arranged the whole world so beautifully! No wars, no poverty, no diseases, no cruelty..."
"It must have been a fine dream," said Japp enviously.
Miss Carnaby jumped up. She said:
"I must get home. Emily has been so anxious. And dear Augustus has been missing me terribly, I hear."
Hercule Poirot said with a smile:
"He was afraid, perhaps, that like him, you were going to 'die for Hercule Poirot'!"
NOTES:
1 "The Flock of Geryon" — "Ñòàäî Ãåðèîíà". Ìèô î òîì,
êàê Ãåðàêë ïîáåäèë âåëèêàíà Ãåðèîíà è óâåë åãî ñòàäî.
2 The Flock of the Shepherd — Ñòàäî Ïàñòóõà
3 a mare's nest — "áðåä ñèâîé êîáûëû"
4 who keeps the Lodge of the Sanctuary — ïðèâðàòíèê
ñâÿòèëèùà
Comprmhansion:
1) What did Miss Carnaby tell Poirot about her friend
Emmeline Clegg?
2) What was it that worried Miss Carnaby most?
3) What was Poirot's plan?
4) Why did Miss Carnaby behave in such a way when
she was sitting with Poirot in the restaurant?
5) What was the real secret of the Great Shepherd?
6) Why did Poirot call his murders scientific murders?
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1. Lost in the Post. A. Philips
2. Success Story. J.G. Cozzens
3. Hunting for a Job. S.S. McClure
4. A Foul Play. R. Ruark
5. Jimmy Valentine's Reformation. O. Henry
6. Letter in the Mail. E. Caldwell
7. The Brumble Bush. Ch. Mergendahl
8. The Beard. G. Clark
9. Lautisse Paints Again. H.A. Smith
10. A Good Start
11. The Filipino and The Drunkard. W. Saroyan
12. The Dinner Party. N. Monsarrat
13. Fair of Face. C. Hare
14. Caged. L.E. Reeve
15. The TV Blackout. Art Buchwald
16. Then in Triumph. Frank L. Parke
17. The Verger. W.S. Maugham
18. A Lion's Skin. W.S. Maugham
19. Footprints in the Jungle. W.S. Maugham
20. The Ant and the Grasshopper. W.S. Maugham
21. The Happy Man. W.S. Maugham
22. The Escape. W.S. Maugham
23. Mr. Know-All. W.S. Maugham
24. Art for Heart's Sake. R. Goldberg
25. Wager with Destiny. E.Z. Gatti
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