The Hound of Death

Contents
TheHoundofDeath
AbouttheAuthor
TheAgathaChristieCollection
Copyright
AboutthePublisher
THEHOUNDOFDEATH
ItwasfromWilliamP.Ryan,Americannewspapercorrespondent,thatIfirstheardoftheaffair.IwasdiningwithhiminLondonontheeveofhisreturntoNewYorkandhappenedtomentionthatonthemorrowIwasgoingdowntoFolbridge.
Helookedupandsaidsharply:“Folbridge,Cornwall?”
NowonlyaboutonepersoninathousandknowsthatthereisaFolbridgeinCornwall.TheyalwaystakeitforgrantedthattheFolbridge,Hampshire,ismeant.SoRyan’sknowledgearousedmycuriosity.
“Yes,”Isaid.“Doyouknowit?”
Hemerelyrepliedthathewasdarned.HethenaskedifIhappenedtoknowahousecalledTrearnedownthere.
Myinterestincreased.
“Verywellindeed.Infact,it’stoTrearneI’mgoing.It’smysister’shouse.”
“Well,”saidWilliamP.Ryan.“Ifthatdoesn’tbeattheband!”
Isuggestedthatheshouldceasemakingcrypticremarksandexplainhimself.
“Well,”hesaid.“TodothatIshallhavetogobacktoanexperienceofmineatthebeginningofthewar.”
Isighed.TheeventswhichIamrelatingtotookplacein1921.Toberemindedofthewarwasthelastthinganymanwanted.Wewere,thankGod,beginningtoforget…Besides,WilliamP.Ryanonhiswarexperienceswasapt,asIknew,tobeunbelievablylong-winded.
Buttherewasnostoppinghimnow.
“Atthestartofthewar,asIdaresayyouknow,IwasinBelgiumformypaper—movingaboutsome.Well,there’salittlevillage—I’llcallitX.Aone-horseplaceifthereeverwasone,butthere’squiteabigconventthere.Nunsinwhitewhatdoyoucall’em—Idon’tknowthenameoftheorder.Anyway,itdoesn’tmatter.Well,thislittleburghwasrightinthewayoftheGermanadvance.TheUhlansarrived—”
Ishifteduneasily.WilliamP.Ryanliftedahandreassuringly.
“It’sallright,”hesaid.“Thisisn’taGermanatrocitystory.Itmighthavebeen,perhaps,butitisn’t.Asamatteroffact,theboot’sontheotherleg.TheHunsmadeforthatconvent—theygotthereandthewholethingblewup.”
“Oh!”Isaid,ratherstartled.
“Oddbusiness,wasn’tit?Ofcourse,offhand,IshouldsaytheHunshadbeencelebratingandhadmonkeyedroundwiththeirownexplosives.Butisseemstheyhadn’tanythingofthatkindwiththem.Theyweren’tthehigh-explosivejohnnies.Well,then,Iaskyou,whatshouldapackofnunsknowabouthighexplosive?Somenuns,Ishouldsay!”
“Itisodd,”Iagreed.
“Iwasinterestedinhearingthepeasants’accountofthematter.They’dgotitallcutanddried.Accordingtothemitwasaslap-uponehundredpercentefficientfirst-classmodernmiracle.Itseemsoneofthenunshadgotsomethingofareputation—abuddingsaint—wentintotrancesandsawvisions.Andaccordingtothemsheworkedthestunt.ShecalleddownthelightningtoblasttheimpiousHun—anditblastedhimallright—andeverythingelsewithinrange.Aprettyefficientmiracle,that!
“Ineverreallygotatthetruthofthematter—hadn’ttime.Butmiracleswerealltheragejustthen—angelsatMonsandallthat.Iwroteupthething,putinabitofsobstuff,andpulledthereligiousstopoutwell,andsentittomypaper.ItwentdownverywellintheStates.Theywerelikingthatkindofthingjustthen.
“But(Idon’tknowifyou’llunderstandthis)inwriting,Igotkinderinterested.IfeltI’dliketoknowwhatreallyhadhappened.Therewasnothingtoseeatthespotitself.Twowallsstillleftstanding,andononeofthemwasablackpowdermarkthatwastheexactshapeofagreathound.
“Thepeasantsroundaboutwerescaredtodeathofthatmark.TheycalledittheHoundofDeathandtheywouldn’tpassthatwayafterdark.
“Superstition’salwaysinteresting.IfeltI’dliketoseetheladywhoworkedthestunt.Shehadn’tperished,itseemed.She’dgonetoEnglandwithabatchofotherrefugees.Itookthetroubletotraceher.Ifoundshe’dbeensenttoTrearne,Folbridge,Cornwall.”
Inodded.
“MysistertookinalotofBelgianrefugeesthebeginningofthewar.Abouttwenty.”
“Well,Ialwaysmeant,ifIhadtime,tolookupthelady.Iwantedtohearherownaccountofthedisaster.Then,whatwithbeingbusyandonethingandanother,itslippedmymemory.Cornwall’sabitoutofthewayanyhow.Infact,I’dforgottenthewholethingtillyourmentioningFolbridgejustnowbroughtitback.”
“Imustaskmysister,”Isaid.“Shemayhaveheardsomethingaboutit.Ofcourse,theBelgianshaveallbeenrepatriatedlongago.”
“Naturally.Allthesame,incaseyoursisterdoesknowanythingI’llbegladifyoupassitontome.”
“OfcourseIwill,”Isaidheartily.
Andthatwasthat.
ItwastheseconddayaftermyarrivalatTrearnethatthestoryrecurredtome.MysisterandIwerehavingteaontheterrace.
“Kitty,”Isaid,“didn’tyouhaveanunamongyourBelgians?”
“Youdon’tmeanSisterMarieAngelique,doyou?”
“PossiblyIdo,”Isaidcautiously.“Tellmeabouther.”
“Oh!mydear,shewasthemostuncannycreature.She’sstillhere,youknow.”
“What?Inthehouse?”
“No,no,inthevillage.Dr.Rose—yourememberDr.Rose?”
Ishookmyhead.
“Irememberanoldmanofabouteighty-three.”
“Dr.Laird.Oh!hedied.Dr.Rosehasonlybeenhereafewyears.He’squiteyoungandverykeenonnewideas.HetookthemostenormousinterestinSisterMarieAngelique.Shehashallucinationsandthings,youknow,andapparentlyismostfrightfullyinterestingfromamedicalpointofview.Poorthing,she’dnowheretogo—andreallywasinmyopinionquitepotty—onlyimpressive,ifyouknowwhatImean—well,asIsay,she’dnowheretogo,andDr.Roseverykindlyfixedherupinthevillage.Ibelievehe’swritingamonographorwhateveritisthatdoctorswrite,abouther.”
Shepausedandthensaid:
“Butwhatdoyouknowabouther?”
“Iheardarathercuriousstory.”
IpassedonthestoryasIhadreceiveditfromRyan.Kittywasverymuchinterested.
“Shelooksthesortofpersonwhocouldblastyou—ifyouknowwhatImean,”shesaid.
“Ireallythink,”Isaid,mycuriosityheightened,“thatImustseethisyoungwoman.”
“Do.I’dliketoknowwhatyouthinkofher.GoandseeDr.Rosefirst.Whynotwalkdowntothevillageaftertea?”
Iacceptedthesuggestion.
IfoundDr.Roseathomeandintroducedmyself.Heseemedapleasantyoungman,yettherewassomethingabouthispersonalitythatratherrepelledme.Itwastooforcefultobealtogetheragreeable.
ThemomentImentionedSisterMarieAngeliquehestiffenedtoattention.Hewasevidentlykeenlyinterested.IgavehimRyan’saccountofthematter.
“Ah!”hesaidthoughtfully.“Thatexplainsagreatdeal.”
Helookedupquicklyatmeandwenton.
“Thecaseisreallyanextraordinarilyinterestingone.Thewomanarrivedherehavingevidentlysufferedsomeseverementalshock.Shewasinastateofgreatmentalexcitementalso.Shewasgiventohallucinationsofamoststartlingcharacter.Herpersonalityismostunusual.Perhapsyouwouldliketocomewithmeandcalluponher.Sheisreallywellworthseeing.”
Iagreedreadily.
Wesetouttogether.Ourobjectivewasasmallcottageontheoutskirtsofthevillage.Folbridgeisamostpicturesqueplace.ItliesatthemouthoftheriverFolmostlyontheeastbank,thewestbankistooprecipitousforbuilding,thoughafewcottagesdoclingtothecliffsidethere.Thedoctor’sowncottagewasperchedontheextremeedgeofthecliffonthewestside.Fromityoulookeddownonthebigwaveslashingagainsttheblackrocks.
Thelittlecottagetowhichwewerenowproceedinglayinlandoutofthesightofthesea.
“Thedistrictnurseliveshere,”explainedDr.Rose.“IhavearrangedforSisterMarieAngeliquetoboardwithher.Itisjustaswellthatsheshouldbeunderskilledsupervision.”
“Isshequitenormalinhermanner?”Iaskedcuriously.
“Youcanjudgeforyourselfinaminute,”hereplied,smiling.
Thedistrictnurse,adumpypleasantlittlebody,wasjustsettingoutonherbicyclewhenwearrived.
“Goodevening,nurse,how’syourpatient?”calledoutthedoctor.
“She’smuchasusual,doctor.Justsittingtherewithherhandsfoldedandhermindfaraway.Oftenenoughshe’llnotanswerwhenIspeaktoher,thoughforthematterofthatit’slittleenoughEnglishsheunderstandsevennow.”
Rosenodded,andasthenursebicycledaway,hewentuptothecottagedoor,rappedsharplyandentered.
SisterMarieAngeliquewaslyinginalongchairnearthewindow.Sheturnedherheadasweentered.
Itwasastrangeface—pale,transparentlooking,withenormouseyes.Thereseemedtobeaninfinitudeoftragedyinthoseeyes.
“Goodevening,mysister,”saidthedoctorinFrench.
“Goodevening,M.ledocteur.”
“Permitmetointroduceafriend,Mr.Anstruther.”
Ibowedandsheinclinedherheadwithafaintsmile.
“Andhowareyoutoday?”inquiredthedoctor,sittingdownbesideher.
“Iammuchthesameasusual.”Shepausedandthenwenton.“Nothingseemsrealtome.Aretheydaysthatpass—ormonths—oryears?Ihardlyknow.Onlymydreamsseemrealtome.”
“Youstilldreamalot,then?”
“Always—always—and,youunderstand?—thedreamsseemmorerealthanlife.”
“Youdreamofyourowncountry—ofBelgium?”
Sheshookherhead.
“No.Idreamofacountrythatneverexisted—never.Butyouknowthis,M.ledocteur.Ihavetoldyoumanytimes.”Shestoppedandthensaidabruptly:“Butperhapsthisgentlemanisalsoadoctor—adoctorperhapsforthediseasesofthebrain?”
“No,no.”Rosesaidreassuring,butashesmiledInoticedhowextraordinarilypointedhiscanineteethwere,anditoccurredtomethattherewassomethingwolflikeabouttheman.Hewenton:
“IthoughtyoumightbeinterestedtomeetMr.Anstruther.HeknowssomethingofBelgium.Hehaslatelybeenhearingnewsofyourconvent.”
Hereyesturnedtome.Afaintflushcreptintohercheeks.
“It’snothing,really,”Ihastenedtoexplain.“ButIwasdiningtheothereveningwithafriendwhowasdescribingtheruinedwallsoftheconventtome.”
“Soitisruined!”
Itwasasoftexclamation,utteredmoretoherselfthantous.Thenlookingatmeoncemoresheaskedhesitatingly:“Tellme,Monsieur,didyourfriendsayhow—inwhatway—itwasruined?”
“Itwasblownup,”Isaid,andadded:“Thepeasantsareafraidtopassthatwayatnight.”
“Whyaretheyafraid?”
“Becauseofablackmarkonaruinedwall.Theyhaveasuperstitiousfearofit.”
Sheleanedforward.
“Tellme,Monsieur—quick—quick—tellme!Whatisthatmarklike?”
“Ithastheshapeofahugehound,”Ianswered.“ThepeasantscallittheHoundofDeath.”
“Ah!”
Ashrillcryburstfromherlips.
“Itistruethen—itistrue.AllthatIrememberistrue.Itisnotsomeblacknightmare.Ithappened!Ithappened!”
“Whathappened,mysister?”askedthedoctorinalowvoice.
Sheturnedtohimeagerly.
“Iremembered.Thereonthesteps,Iremembered.Irememberedthewayofit.Iusedthepowerasweusedtouseit.IstoodonthealtarstepsandIbadethemtocomenofarther.Itoldthemtodepartinpeace.Theywouldnotlisten,theycameonalthoughIwarnedthem.Andso—”Sheleanedforwardandmadeacuriousgesture.“AndsoIloosedtheHoundofDeathonthem….”
Shelaybackonherchairshiveringallover,hereyesclosed.
Thedoctorrose,fetchedaglassfromacupboard,half-filleditwithwater,addedadroportwofromalittlebottlewhichheproducedfromhispocket,thentooktheglasstoher.
“Drinkthis,”hesaidauthoritatively
Sheobeyed—mechanicallyasitseemed.Hereyeslookedfarawayasthoughtheycontemplatedsomeinnervisionofherown.
“Butthenitisalltrue,”shesaid.“Everything.TheCityoftheCircles,thePeopleoftheCrystal—everything.Itisalltrue.”
“Itwouldseemso,”saidRose.
Hisvoicewaslowandsoothing,clearlydesignedtoencourageandnottodisturbhertrainofthought.
“TellmeabouttheCity,”hesaid.“TheCityofCircles,Ithinkyousaid?”
Sheansweredabsentlyandmechanically.
“Yes—therewerethreecircles.Thefirstcircleforthechosen,thesecondforthepriestessesandtheoutercircleforthepriests.”
“Andinthecentre?”
Shedrewherbreathsharplyandhervoicesanktoatoneofindescribableawe.
“TheHouseoftheCrystal….”
Asshebreathedthewords,herrighthandwenttoherforeheadandherfingertracedsomefigurethere.
Herfigureseemedtogrowmorerigid,hereyesclosed,sheswayedalittle—thensuddenlyshesatuprightwithajerk,asthoughshehadsuddenlyawakened.
“Whatisit?”shesaidconfusedly.“WhathaveIbeensaying?”
“Itisnothing,”saidRose.“Youaretired.Youwanttorest.Wewillleaveyou.”
Sheseemedalittledazedaswetookourdeparture.
“Well,”saidRosewhenwewereoutside.“Whatdoyouthinkofit?”
Heshotasharpglancesidewaysatme.
“Isupposehermindmustbetotallyunhinged,”Isaidslowly.
“Itstruckyoulikethat?”
“No—asamatteroffact,shewas—well,curiouslyconvincing.WhenlisteningtoherIhadtheimpressionthatsheactuallyhaddonewhatsheclaimedtodo—workedakindofgiganticmiracle.Herbeliefthatshedidsoseemsgenuineenough.Thatiswhy—”
“Thatiswhyyousayhermindmustbeunhinged.Quiteso.Butnowapproachthematterfromanotherangle.Supposingthatshedidactuallyworkthatmiracle—supposingthatshedid,personally,destroyabuildingandseveralhundredhumanbeings.”
“Bythemereexerciseofwill?”Isaidwithasmile.
“Ishouldnotputitquitelikethat.Youwillagreethatonepersoncoulddestroyamultitudebytouchingaswitchwhichcontrolledasystemofmines.”
“Yes,butthatismechanical.”
“True,thatismechanical,butitis,inessence,theharnessingandcontrollingofnaturalforces.Thethunderstormandthepowerhouseare,fundamentally,thesamething.”
“Yes,buttocontrolthethunderstormwehavetousemechanicalmeans.”
Rosesmiled.
“Iamgoingoffatatangentnow.Thereisasubstancecalledwintergreen.Itoccursinnatureinvegetableform.Itcanalsobebuiltupbymansyntheticallyandchemicallyinthelaboratory.”
“Well?”
“Mypointisthatthereareoftentwowaysofarrivingatthesameresult.Oursis,admittedly,thesyntheticway.Theremightbeanother.TheextraordinaryresultsarrivedatbyIndianfakirsforinstance,cannotbeexplainedawayinanyeasyfashion.Thethingswecallsupernaturalisonlythenaturalofwhichthelawsarenotyetunderstood.”
“Youmean?”Iasked,fascinated.
“ThatIcannotentirelydismissthepossibilitythatahumanbeingmightbeabletotapsomevastdestructiveforceanduseittofurtherhisorherends.Themeansbywhichthiswasaccomplishedmightseemtoussupernatural—butwouldnotbesoinreality.”
Istaredathim.
Helaughed.
“It’saspeculation,that’sall,”hesaidlightly.“Tellme,didyounoticeagestureshemadewhenshementionedtheHouseoftheCrystal?”
“Sheputherhandtoherforehead.”
“Exactly.Andtracedacirclethere.VerymuchasaCatholicmakesthesignofthecross.Now,Iwilltellyousomethingratherinteresting,Mr.Anstruther.Thewordcrystalhavingoccurredsoofteninmypatient’srambling,Itriedanexperiment.Iborrowedacrystalfromsomeoneandproduceditunexpectedlyonedaytotestmypatient’sreactiontoit.”
“Well?”
“Well,theresultwasverycuriousandsuggestive.Herwholebodystiffened.Shestaredatitasthoughunabletobelievehereyes.Thensheslidtoherkneesinfrontofit,murmuredafewwords—andfainted.”
“Whatwerethefewwords?”
“Verycuriousones.Shesaid:‘TheCrystal!ThentheFaithstilllives!’”
“Extraordinary!”
“Suggestive,isitnot?Nowthenextcuriousthing.Whenshecameroundfromherfaintshehadforgottenthewholething.Ishowedherthecrystalandaskedherifsheknewwhatitwas.Sherepliedthatshesupposeditwasacrystalsuchasfortunetellersused.Iaskedherifshehadeverseenonebefore?Shereplied:‘Never,M.ledocteur.’ButIsawapuzzledlookinhereyes.‘Whattroublesyou,mysister?’Iasked.Shereplied:‘Becauseitissostrange.Ihaveneverseenacrystalbeforeandyet—itseemstomethatIknowitwell.Thereissomething—ifonlyIcouldremember…’TheeffortatmemorywasobviouslysodistressingtoherthatIforbadehertothinkanymore.Thatwastwoweeksago.Ihavepurposelybeenbidingmytime.Tomorrow,Ishallproceedtoafurtherexperiment.”
“Withthecrystal?”
“Withthecrystal.Ishallgethertogazeintoit.Ithinktheresultoughttobeinteresting.”
“Whatdoyouexpecttogetholdof?”Iaskedcuriously.
Thewordswereidleonesbuttheyhadanunlooked-forresult.Rosestiffened,flushed,andhismannerwhenhespokechangedinsensibly.Itwasmoreformal,moreprofessional.
“Lightoncertainmentaldisordersimperfectlyunderstood.SisterMarieAngeliqueisamostinterestingstudy.”
SoRose’sinterestwaspurelyprofessional?Iwondered.
“DoyoumindifIcomealongtoo?”Iasked.
Itmayhavebeenmyfancy,butIthoughthehesitatedbeforehereplied.Ihadasuddenintuitionthathedidnotwantme.
“Certainly.Icanseenoobjection.”
Headded:“Isupposeyou’renotgoingtobedownhereverylong?”
“Onlytillthedayaftertomorrow.”
Ifanciedthattheanswerpleasedhim.Hisbrowclearedandhebegantalkingofsomerecentexperimentscarriedoutonguineapigs.
Imetthedoctorbyappointmentthefollowingafternoon,andwewenttogethertoSisterMarieAngelique.Today,thedoctorwasallgeniality.Hewasanxious,Ithought,toeffacetheimpressionhehadmadethedaybefore.
“YoumustnottakewhatIsaidtooseriously,”heobserved,laughing.“Ishouldn’tlikeyoutobelievemeadabblerinoccultsciences.TheworstofmeisIhaveaninfernalweaknessformakingoutacase.”
“Really?”
“Yes,andthemorefantasticitis,thebetterIlikeit.”
Helaughedasamanlaughsatanamusingweakness.
Whenwearrivedatthecottage,thedistrictnursehadsomethingshewantedtoconsultRoseabout,soIwasleftwithSisterMarieAngelique.
Isawherscrutinizingmeclosely.Presentlyshespoke.
“Thegoodnursehere,shetellsmethatyouarethebrotherofthekindladyatthebighousewhereIwasbroughtwhenIcamefromBelgium?”
“Yes,”Isaid.
“Shewasverykindtome.Sheisgood.”
Shewassilent,asthoughfollowingoutsometrainofthought.Thenshesaid:
“M.ledocteur,hetooisagoodman?”
Iwasalittleembarrassed.
“Why,yes.Imean—Ithinkso.”
“Ah!”Shepausedandthensaid:“Certainlyhehasbeenverykindtome.”
“I’msurehehas.”
Shelookedupatmesharply.
“Monsieur—you—youwhospeaktomenow—doyoubelievethatIammad?”
“Why,mysister,suchanideanever—”
Sheshookherheadslowly—interruptingmyprotest.
“AmImad?Idonotknow—thethingsIremember—thethingsIforget….”
Shesighed,andatthatmomentRoseenteredtheroom.
Hegreetedhercheerilyandexplainedwhathewantedhertodo.
“Certainpeople,yousee,haveagiftforseeingthingsinacrystal.Ifancyyoumighthavesuchagift,mysister.”
Shelookeddistressed.
“No,no,Icannotdothat.Totrytoreadthefuture—thatissinful.”
Rosewastakenaback.Itwasthenun’spointofviewforwhichhehadnotallowed.Hechangedhisgroundcleverly.
“Oneshouldnotlookintothefuture.Youarequiteright.Buttolookintothepast—thatisdifferent.”
“Thepast?”
“Yes—therearemanystrangethingsinthepast.Flashescomebacktoone—theyareseenforamoment—thengoneagain.Donotseektoseeanythinginthecrystalsincethatisnotallowedyou.Justtakeitinyourhands—so.Lookintoit—lookdeep.Yes—deeper—deeperstill.Youremember,doyounot?Youremember.Youhearmespeakingtoyou.Youcananswermyquestions.Canyounothearme?”
SisterMarieAngeliquehadtakenthecrystalasbidden,handlingitwithacuriousreverence.Then,asshegazedintoit,hereyesbecameblankandunseeing,herheaddrooped.Sheseemedtosleep
Gentlythedoctortookthecrystalfromherandputitonthetable.Heraisedthecornerofhereyelid.Thenhecameandsatbyme.
“Wemustwaittillshewakes.Itwon’tbelong,Ifancy.”
Hewasright.Attheendoffiveminutes,SisterMarieAngeliquestirred.Hereyesopeneddreamily.
“WhereamI?”
“Youarehere—athome.Youhavehadalittlesleep.Youhavedreamt,haveyounot?”
Shenodded.
“Yes,Ihavedreamt.”
“YouhavedreamtoftheCrystal?”
“Yes.”
“Tellusaboutit.”
“Youwillthinkmemad,M.ledocteur.Forseeyou,inmydream,theCrystalwasaholyemblem.IevenfiguredtomyselfasecondChrist,aTeacheroftheCrystalwhodiedforhisfaith,hisfollowershunteddown—persecuted…Butthefaithendured.
“Yes—forfifteenthousandfullmoons—Imean,forfifteenthousandyears.”
“Howlongwasafullmoon?”
“Thirteenordinarymoons.Yes,itwasinthefifteenthousandthfullmoon—ofcourse,IwasaPriestessoftheFifthSignintheHouseoftheCrystal.ItwasinthefirstdaysofthecomingoftheSixthSign….”
Herbrowsdrewtogether,alookoffearpassedoverherface.
“Toosoon,”shemurmured.“Toosoon.Amistake…Ah!yes,Iremember!TheSixthSign….”
Shehalfsprangtoherfeet,thendroppedback,passingherhandoverherfaceandmurmuring:
“ButwhatamIsaying?Iamraving.Thesethingsneverhappened.”
“Nowdon’tdistressyourself.”
Butshewaslookingathiminanguishedperplexity.
“M.ledocteur,Idonotunderstand.WhyshouldIhavethesedreams—thesefancies?IwasonlysixteenwhenIenteredthereligiouslife.Ihavenevertravelled.YetIdreamofcities,ofstrangepeople,ofstrangecustoms.Why?”Shepressedbothhandstoherhead.
“Haveyoueverbeenhypnotized,mysister?Orbeeninastateoftrance?”
“Ihaveneverbeenhypnotized,M.ledocteur.Fortheother,whenatprayerinthechapel,myspirithasoftenbeencaughtupfrommybody,andIhavebeenasonedeadformanyhours.Itwasundoubtedlyablessedstate,theReverendMothersaid—astateofgrace.Ah!yes,”shecaughtherbreath.“Iremember,wetoocalleditastateofgrace.”
“Iwouldliketotryanexperiment,mysister.”Rosespokeinamatter-of-factvoice.“Itmaydispelthosepainfulhalf-recollections.Iwillaskyoutogazeoncemoreinthecrystal.Iwillthensayacertainwordtoyou.Youwillansweranother.Wewillcontinueinthiswayuntilyoubecometired.Concentrateyourthoughtsonthecrystal,notuponthewords.”
AsIoncemoreunwrappedthecrystalandgaveitintoSisterMarieAngelique’shands,Inoticedthereverentwayherhandstouchedit.Reposingontheblackvelvet,itlaybetweenherslimpalms.Herwonderfuldeepeyesgazedintoit.Therewasashortsilence,andthenthedoctorsaid:
“Hound.”
ImmediatelySisterMarieAngeliqueanswered:“Death.”
Idonotproposetogiveafullaccountoftheexperiment.Manyunimportantandmeaninglesswordswerepurposelyintroducedbythedoctor.Otherwordsherepeatedseveraltimes,sometimesgettingthesameanswertothem,sometimesadifferentone.
Thateveninginthedoctor’slittlecottageonthecliffswediscussedtheresultoftheexperiment.
Heclearedhisthroat,anddrewhisnotebookclosertohim.
“Theseresultsareveryinteresting—verycurious.Inanswertothewords‘SixthSign,’wegetvariouslyDestruction,Purple,Hound,Power,thenagainDestruction,andfinallyPower.Later,asyoumayhavenoticed,Ireversedthemethod,withthefollowingresults.InanswertoDestruction,IgetHound;toPurple,Power;toHound,Death;again,andtoPower,Hound.Thatallholdstogether,butonasecondrepetitionofDestruction,IgetSea,whichappearsutterlyirrelevant.Tothewords‘FifthSign,’IgetBlue,Thoughts,Bird,Blueagain,andfinallytherathersuggestivephraseOpeningofmindtomind.Fromthefactthat‘FourthSign’elicitsthewordYellow,andlaterLight,andthat‘FirstSign’isansweredbyBlood,IdeducethateachSignhadaparticularcolour,andpossiblyaparticularsymbol,thatoftheFifthSignbeingabird,andthatoftheSixthahound.However,IsurmisethattheFifthSignrepresentedwhatisfamiliarlyknownastelepathy—theopeningofmindtomind.TheSixthSignundoubtedlystandsforthePowerofDestruction.”
“WhatisthemeaningofSea?”
“ThatIconfessIcannotexplain.IintroducedthewordlaterandgottheordinaryanswerofBoat.To‘SeventhSign’IgotfirstLife,thesecondtimeLove.To‘EighthSign,’IgottheanswerNone.ItakeitthereforethatSevenwasthesumandnumberofthesigns.”
“ButtheSeventhwasnotachieved,”Isaidonasuddeninspiration.“SincethroughtheSixthcameDestruction!”
“Ah!Youthinkso?Butwearetakingthese—madramblingsveryseriously.Theyarereallyonlyinterestingfromamedicalpointofview.”
“Surelytheywillattracttheattentionofpsychicinvestigators.”
Thedoctor’seyesnarrowed.“Mydearsir,Ihavenointentionofmakingthempublic.”
“Thenyourinterest?”
“Ispurelypersonal.Ishallmakenotesonthecase,ofcourse.”
“Isee.”ButforthefirsttimeIfelt,liketheblindman,thatIdidn’tseeatall.Irosetomyfeet.
“Well,I’llwishyougoodnight,doctor.I’mofftotownagaintomorrow.”
“Ah!”Ifanciedtherewassatisfaction,reliefperhaps,behindtheexclamation.
“Iwishyougoodluckwithyourinvestigations,”Icontinuedlightly.“Don’tloosetheHoundofDeathonmenexttimewemeet!”
HishandwasinmineasIspoke,andIfeltthestartitgave.Herecoveredhimselfquickly.Hislipsdrewbackfromhislongpointedteethinasmile.
“Foramanwholovedpower,whatapowerthatwouldbe!”hesaid.“Toholdeveryhumanbeing’slifeinthehollowofyourhand!”
Andhissmilebroadened.
Thatwastheendofmydirectconnectionwiththeaffair.
Later,thedoctor’snotebookanddiarycameintomyhands.Iwillreproducethefewscantentriesinithere,thoughyouwillunderstandthatitdidnotreallycomeintomypossessionuntilsometimeafterwards.
Aug.5th.Havediscoveredthatby“theChosen,”SisterM.A.meansthosewhoreproducedtherace.Apparentlytheywereheldinthehighesthonour,andexaltedabovethePriesthood.ContrastthiswithearlyChristians.Aug.7th.PersuadedSisterM.A.toletmehypnotizeher.Succeededininducinghypnopticsleepandtrance,butnorapportestablished.Aug.9th.Havetherebeencivilizationsinthepasttowhichoursisasnothing?Strangeifitshouldbeso,andItheonlymanwiththecluetoit….Aug.12th.SisterM.A.notatallamenabletosuggestionwhenhypnotized.Yetstateoftranceeasilyinduced.Cannotunderstandit.Aug.13th.SisterM.A.mentionedtodaythatin“stateofgrace”the“gatemustbeclosed,lestanothershouldcommandthebody.”Interesting—butbafflingAug.18th.SotheFirstSignisnoneotherthan…(wordserasedhere)…thenhowmanycenturieswillittaketoreachtheSixth?ButifthereshouldbeashortcuttoPower.Aug.20th.HavearrangedforM.A.tocomeherewithNurse.Havetoldheritisnecessarytokeeppatientundermorphia.AmImad?OrshallIbetheSuperman,withthePowerofDeathinmyhands?(Heretheentriescease)
Itwas,Ithink,onAugust29ththatIreceivedtheletter.Itwasdirectedtome,careofmysister-in-law,inaslopingforeignhandwriting.Iopeneditwithsomecuriosity.Itranasfollows:CherMonsieur,Ihaveseenyoubuttwice,butIhavefeltIcouldtrustyou.Whethermydreamsarerealornot,theyhavegrowncleareroflate…And,Monsieur,onethingatallevents,theHoundofDeathisnodream…InthedaysItoldyouof(Whethertheyarerealornot,Idonotknow)HewhowasGuardianoftheCrystalrevealedtheSixthSigntothepeopletoosoon…Evilenteredintotheirhearts.Theyhadthepowertoslayatwill—andtheyslewwithoutjustice—inanger.TheyweredrunkwiththelustofPower.Whenwesawthis,Wewhowereyetpure,weknewthatonceagainweshouldnotcompletetheCircleandcometotheSignofEverlastingLife.HewhowouldhavebeenthenextGuardianoftheCrystalwasbiddentoact.Thattheoldmightdie,andthenew,afterendlessages,mightcomeagain,heloosedtheHoundofDeathuponthesea(beingcarefulnottoclosethecircle),andthesearoseupintheshapeofaHoundandswallowedthelandutterly….OncebeforeIrememberedthis—onthealtarstepsinBelgium…TheDr.Rose,heisoftheBrotherhood.HeknowstheFirstSign,andtheformoftheSecond,thoughitsmeaningishiddentoallsaveachosenfew.HewouldlearnofmetheSixth.Ihavewithstoodhimsofar—butIgrowweak,Monsieur,itisnotwellthatamanshouldcometopowerbeforehistime.Manycenturiesmustgobyeretheworldisreadytohavethepowerofdeathdeliveredintoitshand…Ibeseechyou,Monsieur,youwholovegoodnessandtruth,tohelpme…beforeitistoolate.YoursisterinChrist,MarieAngelique
Iletthepaperfall.Thesolidearthbeneathmeseemedalittlelesssolidthanusual.ThenIbegantorally.Thepoorwoman’sbelief,genuineenough,hadalmostaffectedme!Onethingwasclear.Dr.Rose,inhiszealforacase,wasgrosslyabusinghisprofessionalstanding.Iwouldrundownand—
SuddenlyInoticedaletterfromKittyamongstmyothercorrespondence.Itoreitopen.
“Suchanawfulthinghashappened,”Iread.“YourememberDr.Rose’slittlecottageonthecliff?Itwassweptawaybyalandslidelastnight,thedoctorandthatpoornun,SisterMarieAngelique,werekilled.Thedebrisonthebeachistooawful—allpiledupinafantasticmass—fromadistanceitlookslikeagreathound…”
Theletterdroppedfrommyhand.
Theotherfactsmaybecoincidence.AMr.Rose,whomIdiscoveredtobeawealthyrelativeofthedoctor’s,diedsuddenlythatsamenight—itwassaidstruckbylightning.Asfaraswasknownnothunderstormhadoccurredintheneighbourhood,butoneortwopeopledeclaredtheyhadheardonepealofthunder.Hehadanelectricburnonhim“ofacuriousshape.”Hiswilllefteverythingtohisnephew,Dr.Rose.
Now,supposingthatDr.RosesucceededinobtainingthesecretofthesixthSignfromSisterMarieAngelique.Ihadalwaysfelthimtobeanunscrupulousman—hewouldnotshrinkattakinghisuncle’slifeifheweresureitcouldnotbebroughthometohim.ButonesentenceofSisterMarieAngelique’sletterringsinmybrain…“beingcarefulnottoclosetheCircle…”Dr.Rosedidnotexercisethatcare—wasperhapsunawareofthestepstotake,orevenoftheneedforthem.Sotheforceheemployedreturned,completingitscircuit….
Butofcourseitisallnonsense!Everythingcanbeaccountedforquitenaturally.ThatthedoctorbelievedinSisterMarieAngelique’shallucinationsmerelyprovesthathismind,too,wasslightlyunbalanced.
YetsometimesIdreamofacontinentundertheseaswheremenoncelivedandattainedtoadegreeofcivilizationfaraheadofours….
OrdidSisterMarieAngeliquerememberbackwards—assomesayispossible—andisthisCityoftheCirclesinthefutureandnotinthepast?
Nonsense—ofcoursethewholethingwasmerelyhallucination!
AbouttheAuthor
AGATHACHRISTIEisthemostwidelypublishedauthorofalltime,outsoldonlybytheBibleandShakespeare.HerbookshavesoldmorethanabillioncopiesinEnglishandanotherbillioninahundredforeignlanguages.Shediedin1976.
www.AgathaChristie.com
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EPubEditionSEPTEMBER2013ISBN:9780062300614
10987654321
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TableofContents
Contents
TheHoundofDeath
AbouttheAuthor
TheAgathaChristieCollection
Copyright
AboutthePublisher