The Pale Horse

AgathaChristie
ThePaleHorse
ToJohnandHelenMildmayWhitewithmanythanksfortheopportunitygivenmetoseejusticedone
Foreword
byMarkEasterbrook
Therearetwomethods,itseemstome,ofapproachingthisstrangebusinessofthePaleHorse.InspiteofthedictumoftheWhiteKing,itisdifficulttoachievesimplicity.Onecannot,thatistosay,“Beginatthebeginning,goontotheend,andthenstop.”Forwhereisthebeginning?
Toahistorian,thatalwaysisthedifficulty.Atwhatpointinhistorydoesoneparticularportionofhistorybegin.
Inthiscase,youcanbeginatthemomentwhenFatherGormansetforthfromhispresbyterytovisitadyingwoman.Oryoucanstartbeforethat,onacertaineveninginChelsea.
Perhaps,sinceIamwritingthegreaterpartofthisnarrativemyself,itistherethatIshouldbegin.
Contents
Cover
TitlePage
Dedication
Foreword
ChapterOne
ChapterTwo
ChapterThree
ChapterFour
ChapterFive
ChapterSix
ChapterSeven
ChapterEight
ChapterNine
ChapterTen
ChapterEleven
ChapterTwelve
ChapterThirteen
ChapterFourteen
ChapterFifteen
ChapterSixteen
ChapterSeventeen
ChapterEighteen
ChapterNineteen
ChapterTwenty
ChapterTwenty-one
ChapterTwenty-two
ChapterTwenty-three
ChapterTwenty-four
ChapterTwenty-five
AbouttheAuthor
OtherBooksbyAgathaChristie
Copyright
AboutthePublisher
One
MarkEasterbrook’sNarrative
I
TheEspressomachinebehindmyshoulderhissedlikeanangrysnake.Thenoiseitmadehadasinister,nottosaydevilish,suggestionaboutit.Perhaps,Ireflected,mostofourcontemporarynoisescarrythatimplication.Theintimidatingangryscreamofjetplanesastheyflashacrossthesky;theslowmenacingrumbleofatubetrainapproachingthroughitstunnel;theheavyroadtransportthatshakestheveryfoundationsofyourhouse…Eventheminordomesticnoisesoftoday,beneficialinactionthoughtheymaybe,yetcarryakindofalert.Thedishwashers,therefrigerators,thepressurecookers,thewhiningvacuumcleaners—“Becareful,”theyallseemtosay.“Iamagenieharnessedtoyourservice,butifyourcontrolofmefails….”
Adangerousworld—thatwasit,adangerousworld.
Istirredthefoamingcupplacedinfrontofme.Itsmeltpleasant.
“Whatelsewillyouhave?Nicebananaandbaconsandwich?”
Itseemedanoddjuxtapositiontome.BananasIconnectedwithmychildhood—oroccasionallyflambéwithsugarandrum.Bacon,inmymind,wasfirmlyassociatedwitheggs.However,wheninChelsea,eatasChelseadoes.Iagreedtoanicebananaandbaconsandwich.
AlthoughIlivedinChelsea—thatistosay,Ihadhadafurnishedflatthereforthelastthreemonths—Iwasineveryotherwayastrangerintheseparts.IwaswritingabookoncertainaspectsofMogularchitecture,butforthatpurposeIcouldhavelivedinHampsteadorBloomsburyorStreathamorChelseaanditwouldhavebeenallthesametome.Iwasobliviousofmysurroundingsexceptforthetoolsofmytrade,andtheneighbourhoodinwhichIlivedwascompletelyindifferenttome,Iexistedinaworldofmyown.
Onthisparticularevening,however,Ihadsufferedfromoneofthosesuddenrevulsionsthatallwritersknow.
Mogularchitecture,MogulEmperors,theMogulwayoflife—andallthefascinatingproblemsitraised,becamesuddenlyasdustandashes.Whatdidtheymatter?WhydidIwanttowriteaboutthem?
Iflickedbackvariouspages,rereadingwhatIhadwritten.Itallseemedtomeuniformlybad—poorlywrittenandsingularlydevoidofinterest.Whoeverhadsaid“Historyisbunk”(HenryFord?)hadbeenabsolutelyright.
Ipushedbackmymanuscriptwithloathing,gotupandlookedatmywatch.Thetimewascloseonelevenp.m.ItriedtorememberifIhadhaddinner…FrommyinnersensationsIthoughtnot.Lunch,yes,attheAthenaeum.Thatwasalongtimeago.
Iwentandlookedintotherefrigerator.Therewasasmallremnantofdesiccatedtongue.Ilookedatitwithoutfavour.SoitwasthatIwanderedoutintotheKing’sRoad,andeventuallyturnedintoanEspressoCoffeeBarwiththenameLuigiwritteninredneonlightacrossitswindow,andwasnowcontemplatingabaconandbananasandwichwhilstIreflectedonthesinisterimplicationsofpresent-daynoisesandtheiratmosphericeffects.
Allofthem,Ithought,hadsomethingincommonwithmyearlymemoriesofpantomime.DavyJonesarrivingfromhislockerincloudsofsmoke!Trapdoorsandwindowsthatexudedtheinfernalpowersofevil,challenginganddefyingaGoodFairyDiamond,orsomesuchname,whointurnwavedaninadequate-lookingwandandrecitedhopefulplatitudesastotheultimatetriumphofgoodinaflatvoice,thusprefacingtheinevitable“songofthemoment”whichneverhadanythingtodowiththestoryofthatparticularpantomime.
Itcametomesuddenlythatevilwas,perhaps,necessarilyalwaysmoreimpressivethangood.Ithadtomakeashow!Ithadtostartleandchallenge!Itwasinstabilityattackingstability.Andintheend,Ithought,stabilitywillalwayswin.StabilitycansurvivethetritenessofGoodFairyDiamond;theflatvoice,therhymedcouplet,eventheirrelevantvocalstatementof“There’saWindingRoadrunsdowntheHill,TotheOldeWorldTownIlove.”Allverypoorweaponsitwouldseem,andyetthoseweaponswouldinevitablyprevail.Thepantomimewouldendinthewayitalwaysended.Thestaircase,andthedescendingcastinorderofseniority,withGoodFairyDiamond,practisingtheChristianvirtueofhumilityandnotseekingtobefirst(or,inthiscase,last)butarrivingabouthalfwaythroughtheprocession,sidebysidewithherlateopponent,nowseentobenolongerthesnarlingDemonKingbreathingfireandbrimstone,butjustamandressedupinredtights.
TheEspressohissedagaininmyear.Isignalledforanothercupofcoffeeandlookedaroundme.Asisterofminewasalwaysaccusingmeofnotbeingobservant,notnoticingwhatwasgoingon.“Youliveinaworldofyourown,”shewouldsayaccusingly.Now,withafeelingofconsciousvirtue,Itooknoteofwhatwasgoingon.ItwasalmostimpossiblenottoreadaboutthecoffeebarsofChelseaandtheirpatronseverydayinthenewspapers;thiswasmychancetomakemyownappraisalofcontemporarylife.
ItwasratherdarkintheEspresso,soyoucouldnotseeveryclearly.Theclientelewerealmostallyoungpeople.Theywere,Isupposedvaguely,whatwascalledtheoffbeatgeneration.Thegirlslooked,asgirlsalwaysdidlooktomenowadays,dirty.Theyalsoseemedtobemuchtoowarmlydressed.IhadnoticedthatwhenIhadgoneoutafewweeksagotodinewithsomefriends.Thegirlwhohadsatnexttomehadbeenabouttwenty.Therestaurantwashot,butshehadwornayellowwoolpullover,ablackskirtandblackwoollenstockings,andtheperspirationpoureddownherfaceallthroughthemeal.Shesmeltofperspiration-soakedwoolandalso,strongly,ofunwashedhair.Shewassaid,accordingtomyfriends,tobeveryattractive.Nottome!Myonlyreactionwasayearningtothrowherintoahotbath,giveheracakeofsoapandurgehertogetonwithit!Whichjustshowed,Isuppose,howoutoftouchwiththetimesIwas.Perhapsitcameofhavinglivedabroadsomuch.IrecalledwithpleasureIndianwomenwiththeirbeautifully-coiledblackhair,andtheirsarisofpurebrightcolourshangingingracefulfolds,andtherhythmicswayoftheirbodiesastheywalked….
Iwasrecalledfromthesepleasantthoughtsbyasuddenaccentuationofnoise.Twoyoungwomenatthetablenexttomehadstartedaquarrel.Theyoungmenwhowerewiththemtriedtoadjustthings,butwithoutavail.
Suddenlytheywerescreamingateachother.Onegirlslappedtheother’sface,theseconddraggedthefirstfromherchair.Theyfoughteachotherlikefishwives,screamingabusehysterically.Onewasatousledredhead,theotheralank-hairedblonde.
Whatthequarrelwasabout,apartfromtermsofabuse,Ididnotgather.Criesandcatcallsarosefromothertables.
“Attagirl!Sockher,Lou!”
Theproprietorbehindthebar,aslimItalian-lookingfellowwithsideburns,whomIhadtakentobeLuigi,cametointerveneinavoicethatwaspurecockneyLondon.
“Nahthen—breakitup—breakitup—You’ll’avethewholestreetininaminute.You’ll’avethecoppershere.Stopit,Isay.”
Butthelankblondehadtheredheadbythehairandwastuggingfuriouslyasshescreamed:
“You’renothingbutaman-stealingbitch!”
“Bitchyourself.”
Luigiandthetwoembarrassedescortsforcedthegirlsapart.Intheblonde’sfingerswerelargetuftsofredhair.Sheheldthemaloftgleefully,thendroppedthemonthefloor.
ThedoorfromthestreetwaspushedopenandAuthority,dressedinblue,stoodonthethresholdandutteredtheregulationwordsmajestically.
“What’sgoingonhere?”
Immediatelyacommonfrontwaspresentedtotheenemy.
“Justabitoffun,”saidoneoftheyoungmen.
“That’sall,”saidLuigi.“Justabitoffunamongfriends.”
Withhisfoothekickedthetuftsofhairadroitlyunderthenearesttable.Thecontestantssmiledateachotherinfalseamnesty.
Thepolicemanlookedateverybodysuspiciously.
“We’rejustgoingnow,”saidtheblondesweetly.“Comeon,Doug.”
Byacoincidenceseveralotherpeoplewerejustgoing.Authoritywatchedthemgogrimly.Hiseyesaidthathewasoverlookingitthistime,buthe’dgothiseyeonthem.Hewithdrewslowly.
Theredhead’sescortpaidthecheck.
“Youallright?”saidLuigitothegirlwhowasadjustingaheadscarf.“Louservedyouprettybad,tearingoutyourhairbytherootslikethat.”
“Itdidn’thurt,”saidthegirlnonchalantly.Shesmiledathim.“Sorryfortherow,Luigi.”
Thepartywentout.Thebarwasnowpracticallyempty.Ifeltinmypocketforchange.
“She’sasportallright,”saidLuigiapprovinglywatchingthedoorclose.Heseizedafloorbrushandsweptthetuftsofredhairbehindthecounter.
“Itmusthavebeenagony,”Isaid.
“I’dhaveholleredifithadbeenme,”admittedLuigi.“Butshe’sarealsport,Tommyis.”
“Youknowherwell?”
“Oh,she’sinheremostevenings.Tuckerton,that’shername,ThomasinaTuckerton,ifyouwantthewholesetout.ButTommyTucker’swhatshe’scalledroundhere.Stinkingrich,too.Heroldmanleftherafortune,andwhatdoesshegoanddo?ComestoChelsea,livesinaslummyroomhalfwaytoWandsworthBridge,andmoochesaroundwithagangalldoingthesamething.Beatsme,halfofthatcrowd’sgotmoney.Couldhaveanymortalthingtheywant;stayattheRitziftheyliked.Buttheyseemtogetakickoutoflivingthewaytheydo.Yes—itbeatsme.”
“Itwouldn’tbeyourchoice?”
“Ar,I’vegotsense!”saidLuigi.“Asitis,Ijustcashin.”
Irosetogoandaskedwhatthequarrelwasabout.
“Oh,Tommy’sgotholdoftheothergirl’sboyfriend.He’snotworthfightingabout,believeme!”
“Theothergirlseemedtothinkhewas,”Iobserved.
“Oh,Lou’sveryromantic,”saidLuigitolerantly.
Itwasnotmyideaofromance,butIdidnotsayso.
II
ItmusthavebeenaboutaweeklaterthatmyeyewascaughtbyanameintheDeathscolumnofTheTimes.
TUCKERTON.OnOctober2ndatFallowfieldNursingHome,Amberley,ThomasinaAnn,agedtwenty,onlydaughterofthelateThomasTuckerton,Esq.,ofCarringtonPark,Amberley,Surrey.Funeralprivate.Noflowers.
III
NoflowersforpoorTommyTucker;andnomore“kicks”outoflifeinChelsea.IfeltasuddenfleetingcompassionfortheTommyTuckersoftoday.Yetafterall,Iremindedmyself,howdidIknowthatmyviewwastherightone?WhowasItopronounceitawastedlife?Perhapsitwasmylife,myquietscholarlylife,immersedinbooks,shutofffromtheworld,thatwasthewastedone.Lifeatsecondhand.Behonestnow,wasIgettingkicksoutoflife?Averyunfamiliaridea!Thetruthwas,ofcourse,thatIdidn’twantkicks.Butthereagain,perhapsIoughtto?Anunfamiliarandnotverywelcomethought.
IdismissedTommyTuckerfrommythoughts,andturnedtomycorrespondence.
TheprincipalitemwasaletterfrommycousinRhodaDespard,askingmetodoherafavour.Igraspedatthis,sinceIwasnotfeelinginthemoodforworkthismorning,anditmadeasplendidexcuseforpostponingit.
IwentoutintoKing’sRoad,hailedataxi,andwasdriventotheresidenceofafriendofmine,aMrs.AriadneOliver.
Mrs.Oliverwasawell-knownwriterofdetectivestories.Hermaid,Milly,wasanefficientdragonwhoguardedhermistressfromtheonslaughtsoftheoutsideworld.
Iraisedmyeyebrowsinquiringly,inanunspokenquestion.Millynoddedavehementhead.
“You’dbettergorightup,Mr.Mark,”shesaid.“She’sinamoodthismorning.Youmaybeabletohelphersnapoutofit.”
Imountedtwoflightsofstairs,tappedlightlyonadoor,andwalkedinwithoutwaitingforencouragement.Mrs.Oliver’sworkroomwasagood-sizedroom,thewallspaperedwithexoticbirdsnestingintropicalfoliage.Mrs.Oliverherself,inastateapparentlyborderingoninsanity,wasprowlingroundtheroom,mutteringtoherself.Shethrewmeabriefuninterestedglanceandcontinuedtoprowl.Hereyes,unfocused,sweptroundthewalls,glancedoutofthewindow,andoccasionallyclosedinwhatappearedtobeaspasmofagony.
“Butwhy,”demandedMrs.Oliveroftheuniverse,“whydoesn’ttheidiotsayatoncethathesawthecockatoo?Whyshouldn’the?Hecouldn’thavehelpedseeingit!Butifhedoesmentionit,itruinseverything.Theremustbeaway…theremustbe….”
Shegroaned,ranherfingersthroughhershortgreyhairandclutcheditinafrenziedhand.Then,lookingatmewithsuddenlyfocusedeyes,shesaid,“Hallo,Mark.I’mgoingmad,”andresumedhercomplaint.
“Andthenthere’sMonica.ThenicerItrytomakeher,themoreirritatingshegets…Suchastupidgirl…Smug,too!Monica…Monica?Ibelievethename’swrong.Nancy?Wouldthatbebetter?Joan?EverybodyisalwaysJoan.Anneisthesame.Susan?I’vehadaSusan.Lucia?Lucia?Lucia?IbelieveIcanseeaLucia.Red-haired.Polo-neckedjumper…Blacktights?Blackstockings,anyway.”
Thismomentarygleamofgoodcheerwaseclipsedbythememoryofthecockatooproblem,andMrs.Oliverresumedherunhappyprowling,pickingupthingsofftablesunseeinglyandputtingthemdownagainsomewhereelse.ShefittedwithsomecareherspectaclecaseintoalacqueredboxwhichalreadycontainedaChinesefanandthengaveadeepsighandsaid:
“I’mgladit’syou.”
“That’sveryniceofyou.”
“Itmighthavebeenanybody.Somesillywomanwhowantedmetoopenabazaar,orthemanaboutMilly’sinsurancecardwhichMillyabsolutelyrefusestohave—ortheplumber(butthatwouldbetoomuchgoodfortune,wouldn’tit?).Or,itmightbesomeonewantinganinterview—askingmeallthoseembarrassingquestionswhicharealwaysthesameeverytime.Whatmadeyoufirstthinkoftakingupwriting?Howmanybookshaveyouwritten?Howmuchmoneydoyoumake?Etc.etc.Ineverknowtheanswerstoanyofthemanditmakesmelooksuchafool.NotthatanyofthatmattersbecauseIthinkIamgoingmad,overthiscockatoobusiness.”
“Somethingthatwon’tjell?”Isaidsympathetically.“PerhapsI’dbettergoaway.”
“No,don’t.Atanyrateyou’readistraction.”
Iacceptedthisdoubtfulcompliment.
“Doyouwantacigarette?”Mrs.Oliveraskedwithvaguehospitality.“Therearesomesomewhere.Lookinthetypewriterlid.”
“I’vegotmyown,thanks.Haveone.Ohno,youdon’tsmoke.”
“Ordrink,”saidMrs.Oliver.“IwishIdid.LikethoseAmericandetectivesthatalwayshavepintsofryeconvenientlyintheircollardrawers.Itseemstosolvealltheirproblems.Youknow.Mark,Ireallycan’tthinkhowanyoneevergetsawaywithamurderinreallife.Itseemstomethatthemomentyou’vedoneamurderthewholethingissoterriblyobvious.”
“Nonsense.You’vedonelotsofthem.”
“Fifty-fiveatleast,”saidMrs.Oliver.“Themurderpartisquiteeasyandsimple.It’sthecoveringupthat’ssodifficult.Imean,whyshoulditbeanyoneelsebutyou?Youstickoutamile.”
“Notinthefinishedarticle,”Isaid
“Ah,butwhatitcostsme,”saidMrs.Oliverdarkly.“Saywhatyoulike,it’snotnaturalforfiveorsixpeopletobeonthespotwhenBismurderedandallhaveamotiveforkillingB—unless,thatis,Bisabsolutelymadlyunpleasantandinthatcasenobodywillmindwhetherhe’sbeenkilledornot,anddoesn’tcareintheleastwho’sdoneit.”
“Iseeyourproblem,”Isaid.“Butifyou’vedealtwithitsuccessfullyfifty-fivetimes,youwillmanagetodealwithitonceagain.”
“That’swhatItellmyself,”saidMrs.Oliver,“overandoveragain,buteverysingletimeIcan’tbelieveit,andsoI’minagony.”
Sheseizedherhairagainandtuggeditviolently.
“Don’t,”Icried.“You’llhaveitoutbytheroots.”
“Nonsense,”saidMrs.Oliver.“Hair’stough.ThoughwhenIhadmeaslesatfourteenwithaveryhightemperature,itdidcomeout—allroundthefront.Mostshaming.Anditwassixwholemonthsbeforeitgrewproperlyagain.Awfulforagirl—girlsmindso.IthoughtofityesterdaywhenIwasvisitingMaryDelafontaineinthatnursinghome.Herhairwascomingoutjustlikeminedid.Shesaidshe’dhavetogetafalsefrontwhenshewasbetter.Ifyou’resixtyitdoesn’talwaysgrowagain,Ibelieve.”
“Isawagirlpulloutanothergirl’shairbytherootstheothernight,”Isaid.Iwasconsciousofaslightnoteofprideinmyvoiceasonewhohasseenlife.
“Whatextraordinaryplaceshaveyoubeengoingto?”askedMrs.Oliver.
“ThiswasinacoffeebarinChelsea.”
“OhChelsea!”saidMrs.Oliver.“Everythinghappensthere,Ibelieve.Beatniksandsputniksandsquaresandthebeatgeneration.Idon’twriteaboutthemmuchbecauseI’msoafraidofgettingthetermswrong.It’ssafer,Ithink,tosticktowhatyouknow.”
“Suchas?”
“Peopleoncruises,andinhotels,andwhatgoesoninhospitals,andonparishcouncils—andsalesofwork—andmusicfestivals,andgirlsinshops,andcommitteesanddailywomen,andyoungmenandgirlswhohikeroundtheworldintheinterestsofscience,andshopassistants—”
Shepaused,outofbreath.
“Thatseemsfairlycomprehensivetobegettingonwith,”Isaid.
“Allthesame,youmighttakemeouttoacoffeebarinChelseasometime—justtowidenmyexperience,”saidMrs.Oliverwistfully.
“Anytimeyousay.Tonight?”
“Nottonight.I’mtoobusywritingorratherworryingbecauseIcan’twrite.That’sreallythemosttiresomethingaboutwriting—thougheverythingistiresomereally,excepttheonemomentwhenyougetwhatyouthinkisgoingtobeawonderfulidea,andcanhardlywaittobegin.Tellme,Mark,doyouthinkitispossibletokillsomeonebyremotecontrol?”
“Whatdoyoumeanbyremotecontrol?Pressabuttonandsetoffaradioactivedeathray?”
“No,no,notsciencefiction.Isuppose,”shepauseddoubtfully,“Ireallymeanblackmagic.”
“Waxfiguresandpinsinthem?”
“Oh,waxfiguresarerightout,”saidMrs.Oliverscornfully.“Butqueerthingsdohappen—inAfricaortheWestIndies.Peoplearealwaystellingyouso.Hownativesjustcurlupanddie.Voodoo—orjuju…Anyway,youknowwhatImean.”
Isaidthatmuchofthatwasattributednowadaystothepowerofsuggestion.Wordisalwaysconveyedtothevictimthathisdeathhasbeendecreedbythemedicineman—andhissubconsciousdoestherest.
Mrs.Oliversnorted.
“IfanyonehintedtomethatIhadbeendoomedtoliedownanddie,I’dtakeapleasureinthwartingtheirexpectations!”
Ilaughed.
“You’vegotcenturiesofgoodOccidentalscepticalbloodinyourveins.Nopredispositions.”
“Thenyouthinkitcanhappen?”
“Idon’tknowenoughaboutthesubjecttojudge.Whatputitintoyourhead?IsyournewmasterpiecetobeMurderbySuggestion?”
“No,indeed.Goodold-fashionedratpoisonorarsenicisgoodenoughforme.Orthereliablebluntinstrument.Notfirearmsifpossible.Firearmsaresotricky.Butyoudidn’tcomeheretotalktomeaboutmybooks.”
“Franklyno—ThefactisthatmycousinRhodaDespardhasgotachurchfêteand—”
“Neveragain!”saidMrs.Oliver.“Youknowwhathappenedlasttime?IarrangedaMurderHunt,andthefirstthingthathappenedwasarealcorpse.I’veneverquitegotoverit!”
“It’snotaMurderHunt.Allyou’dhavetodowouldbetositinatentandsignyourownbooks—atfivebobatime.”
“We-e-l-l-l,”saidMrs.Oliverdoubtfully.“Thatmightbeallright.Ishouldn’thavetoopenthefête?Orsaysillythings?Orhavetowearahat?”
Noneofthesethings,Iassuredher,wouldberequiredofher.
“Anditwouldonlybeforanhourortwo,”Isaidcoaxingly.“Afterthat,there’llbeacricketmatch—no,Isupposenotthistimeofyear.Childrendancing,perhaps.Orafancydresscompetition—”
Mrs.Oliverinterruptedmewithawildscream.
“That’sit,”shecried.“Acricketball!Ofcourse!Heseesitfromthewindow…risingupintheair…anditdistractshim—andsohenevermentionsthecockatoo!Whatagoodthingyoucame,Mark.You’vebeenwonderful.”
“Idon’tquitesee—”
“Perhapsnot,butIdo,”saidMrs.Oliver.“It’sallrathercomplicated,andIdon’twanttowastetimeexplaining.Niceasit’sbeentoseeyou,whatI’dreallylikeyoutodonowistogoaway.Atonce.”
“Certainly.Aboutthefête—”
“I’llthinkaboutit.Don’tworrymenow.NowwhereonearthdidIputmyspectacles?Really,thewaythingsjustdisappear….”
Two
I
Mrs.Gerahtyopenedthedoorofthepresbyteryinherusualsharppouncingstyle.Itwaslesslikeansweringabell,thanatriumphantmanoeuvreexpressingthesentiment“I’vecaughtyouthistime!”
“Wellnow,andwhatwouldyoubewanting?”shedemandedbelligerently.
Therewasaboyonthedoorstep,averynegligiblelookingboy—aboynoteasilynoticeablenoreasilyremembered—aboylikealotofotherboys.Hesniffedbecausehehadacoldinhishead.
“Isthisthepriest’splace?”
“IsitFatherGormanyou’rewanting?”
“He’swanted,”saidtheboy.
“Whowantshimandwhereandwhatfor?”
“BenthallStreet.Twenty-three.Womanassaysshe’sdying.Mrs.Coppinssentme.ThisisaCarthlickplaceallright,isn’tit?Womansaysthevicarwon’tdo.”
Mrs.Gerahtyreassuredhimonthisessentialpoint,toldhimtostopwherehewasandretiredintothepresbytery.Somethreeminuteslateratallelderlypriestcameoutcarryingasmallleathercaseinhishand.
“I’mFatherGorman,”hesaid.“BenthallStreet?That’sroundbytherailwayyards,isn’tit?”
“’Sright.Notmorethanastep,itisn’t.”
Theysetouttogether,thepriestwalkingwithafreestridingstep.
“Mrs.—Coppins,didyousay?Isthatthename?”
“She’stheonewhatownsthehouse.Letsrooms,shedoes.It’soneofthelodgerswantsyou.NameofDavis,Ithink.”
“Davis.Iwondernow.Idon’tremember—”
“She’soneofyouallright.Carthlick,Imean.Saidasnovicarwoulddo.”
Thepriestnodded.TheycametoBenthallStreetinaveryshorttime.Theboyindicatedatalldingyhouseinarowofothertalldingyhouses.
“That’sit.”
“Aren’tyoucomingin?”
“Idon’tbelong.Mrs.C.gavemeabobtotakethemessage.”
“Isee.What’syourname?”
“MikePotter.”
“Thankyou,Mike.”
“You’rewelcome,”saidMike,andwentoffwhistling.Theimminenceofdeathforsomeoneelsedidnotaffecthim.
ThedoorofNo.23openedandMrs.Coppins,alargeredfacedwoman,stoodonthethresholdandwelcomedthevisitorwithenthusiasm.
“Comein,comein.She’sbad,I’dsay.Oughttobeinhospital,nothere.I’verungup,butgoodnessknowswhenanybodywillcomenowadays.Sixhoursmysister’shusbandhadtowaitwhenhebrokehisleg.Disgraceful,Icallit.HealthService,indeed!Takeyourmoneyandwhenyouwantthemwherearethey?”
Shewasprecedingthepriestupthenarrowstairsasshetalked.
“What’sthematterwithher?”
“’Flu’swhatshe’shad.Seemedbetter.WentouttoosoonI’dsay.Anywayshecomesinlastnightlookinglikedeath.Tooktoherbed.Wouldn’teatanything.Didn’twantadoctor.ThismorningIcouldseeshewasinaragingfever.Gonetoherlungs.”
“Pneumonia?”
Mrs.Coppins,outofbreathbynow,madeanoiselikeasteamengine,whichseemedtosignifyassent.Sheflungopenadoor,stoodasidetoletFatherGormangoin,saidoverhisshoulder:“Here’stheReverendforyou.Nowyou’llbeallright!”inaspuriouslycheerfulway,andretired.
FatherGormanadvanced.Theroom,furnishedwithold-fashionedVictorianfurniture,wascleanandneat.Inthebednearthewindowawomanturnedherheadfeebly.Thatshewasveryill,thepriestsawatonce.
“You’vecome…Thereisn’tmuchtime—”shespokebetweenpantingbreaths.“…Wickedness…suchwickedness…Imust…Imust…Ican’tdielikethis…Confess—confess—mysin—grievous—grievous…”theeyeswandered…halfclosed….
Aramblingmonotoneofwordscamefromherlips.
FatherGormancametothebed.Hespokeashehadspokensooften—soveryoften.Wordsofauthority—ofreassurance…thewordsofhiscallingandofhisbelief.Peacecameintotheroom…Theagonywentoutofthetorturedeyes….
Then,asthepriestendedhisministry,thedyingwomanspokeagain.
“Stopped…Itmustbestopped…Youwill….”
Thepriestspokewithreassuringauthority.
“Iwilldowhatisnecessary.Youcantrustme….”
Adoctorandanambulancearrivedsimultaneouslyalittlelater.Mrs.Coppinsreceivedthemwithgloomytriumph.
“Toolateasusual!”shesaid.“She’sgone….”
II
FatherGormanwalkedbackthroughthegatheringtwilight.Therewouldbefogtonight,itwasgrowingdenserrapidly.Hepausedforamoment,frowning.Suchafantasticextraordinarystory…Howmuchofitwasbornofdeliriumandhighfever?Someofitwastrue,ofcourse—buthowmuch?Anywayitwasimportanttomakeanoteofcertainnameswhilsttheywerefreshinhismemory.TheSt.FrancisGuildwouldbeassembledwhenhegotback.Heturnedabruptlyintoasmallcafé,orderedacupofcoffeeandsatdown.Hefeltinthepocketofhiscassock.Ah,Mrs.Gerahty—he’daskedhertomendthelining.Asusual,shehadn’t!Hisnotebookandaloosepencilandthefewcoinshecarriedabouthim,hadgonethroughtothelining.Heprisedupacoinortwoandthepencil,butthenotebookwastoodifficult.Thecoffeecame,andheaskedifhecouldhaveapieceofpaper.
“Thisdoyou?”
Itwasatornpaperbag.FatherGormannoddedandtookit.Hebegantowrite—thenames—itwasimportantnottoforgetthenames.Nameswerethesortofthinghedidforget….
ThecafédooropenedandthreeyoungladsinEdwardiandresscameinandsatdownnoisily.
FatherGormanfinishedhismemorandum.Hefoldedupthescrapofpaperandwasabouttoshoveitintohispocketwhenherememberedthehole.Hedidwhathehadoftendonebefore,pressedthefoldedscrapdownintohisshoe.
Amancameinquietlyandsatdowninafarcorner.FatherGormantookasiportwooftheweakcoffeeforpoliteness’sake,calledforhisbill,andpaid.Thenhegotupandwentout.
Themanwhohadjustcomeinseemedtochangehismind.Helookedathiswatchasthoughhehadmistakenthetime,gotup,andhurriedout.
Thefogwascomingonfast.FatherGormanquickenedhissteps.Heknewhisdistrictverywell.Hetookashortcutbyturningdownthesmallstreetwhichranclosebytherailway.Hemayhavebeenconsciousofstepsbehindhimbuthethoughtnothingofthem.Whyshouldhe?
Theblowfromthecoshcaughthimcompletelyunaware.Heheeledforwardandfell….
III
Dr.Corrigan,whistling“FatherO’Flynn,”walkedintotheD.D.I.’sroomandaddressedDivisionalDetective-InspectorLejeuneinachattymanner.
“I’vedoneyourpadreforyou,”hesaid.
“Andtheresult?”
“We’llsavethetechnicaltermsforthecoroner.Wellandtrulycoshed.Firstblowprobablykilledhim,butwhoeveritwasmadesure.Quiteanastybusiness.”
“Yes,”saidLejeune.
Hewasasturdyman,darkhairedandgreyeyed.Hehadamisleadinglyquietmanner,buthisgesturesweresometimessurprisinglygraphicandbetrayedhisFrenchHuguenotancestry.
Hesaidthoughtfully:
“Nastierthanwouldbenecessaryforrobbery?”
“Wasitrobbery?”askedthedoctor.
“Onesupposesso.Hispocketswereturnedoutandtheliningofhiscassockripped.”
“Theycouldn’thavehopedformuch,”saidCorrigan.“Poorasarat,mostoftheseparishpriests.”
“Theybatteredhisheadin—tomakesure,”musedLejeune.“Onewouldliketoknowwhy.”
“Twopossibleanswers,”saidCorrigan.“One,itwasdonebyavicious-mindedyoungthug,wholikesviolenceforviolence’ssake—thereareplentyofthemaboutthesedays,more’sthepity.”
“Andtheotheranswer?”
Thedoctorshruggedhisshoulders.
“SomebodyhaditinforyourFatherGorman.Wasthatlikely?”
Lejeuneshookhishead.
“Mostunlikely.Hewasapopularman,welllovedinthedistrict.Noenemies,asfarasonecanhear.Androbbery’sunlikely.Unless—”
“Unlesswhat?”askedCorrigan.“Thepolicehaveaclue!AmIright?”
“Hedidhavesomethingonhimthatwasn’ttakenaway.Itwasinhisshoe,asamatteroffact.”
Corriganwhistled.
“Soundslikeaspystory.”
Lejeunesmiled.
“It’smuchsimplerthanthat.Hehadaholeinhispocket.SergeantPinetalkedtohishousekeeper.She’sabitofaslattern,itseems.Didn’tkeephisclothesmendedinthewayshemighthavedone.Sheadmittedthat,nowandagain,FatherGormanwouldthrustapaperoraletterdowntheinsideofhisshoe—topreventitfromgoingdownintotheliningofhiscassock.”
“Andthekillerdidn’tknowthat?”
“Thekillerneverthoughtofthat!Assuming,thatis,thatthispieceofpaperiswhathemayhavebeenwanting—ratherthanamiserlyamountofsmallchange.”
“Whatwasonthepaper?”
Lejeunereachedintoadrawerandtookoutaflimsypieceofcreasedpaper.
“Justalistofnames,”hesaid.
Corriganlookedatitcuriously.
OrmerodSandfordParkinsonHesketh-DuboisShawHarmondsworthTuckertonCorrigan?Delafontaine?Hiseyebrowsrose.
“IseeI’monthelist!”
“Doanyofthenamesmeananythingtoyou?”askedtheinspector.
“Noneofthem.”
“Andyou’venevermetFatherGorman?”
“Never.”
“Thenyouwon’tbeabletohelpusmuch.”
“Anyideasastowhatthislistmeans—ifanything?”
Lejeunedidnotreplydirectly.
“AboycalledatFatherGorman’saboutseveno’clockintheevening.Saidawomanwasdyingandwantedthepriest.FatherGormanwentwithhim.”
“Whereto?Ifyouknow.”
“Weknow.Itdidn’ttakelongtocheckup.Twenty-threeBenthallStreet.HouseownedbyawomannamedCoppins.ThesickwomanwasaMrs.Davis.Thepriestgotthereataquarterpastsevenandwaswithherforabouthalfanhour.Mrs.Davisdiedjustbeforetheambulancearrivedtotakehertohospital.”
“Isee.”
“ThenextwehearofFatherGormanisatTony’sPlace,asmalldown-at-heelcafé.Quitedecent,nothingcriminalaboutit,servesrefreshmentofpoorqualityandisn’tmuchpatronised.FatherGormanaskedforacupofcoffee.Thenapparentlyhefeltinhispocket,couldn’tfindwhathewantedandaskedtheproprietor,Tony,forapieceofpaper.This—”hegesturedwithhisfinger,“isthepieceofpaper.”
“Andthen?”
“WhenTonybroughtthecoffee,thepriestwaswritingonthepaper.Shortlyafterwardsheleft,leavinghiscoffeepracticallyuntasted(forwhichIdon’tblamehim),havingcompletedthislistandshoveditintohisshoe.”
“Anybodyelseintheplace?”
“ThreeboysoftheTeddyboytypecameinandsatatonetableandanelderlymancameinandsatatanother.Thelatterwentawaywithoutordering.”
“Hefollowedthepriest?”
“Couldbe.Tonydidn’tnoticewhenhewent.Didn’tnoticewhathelookedlike,either.Describedhimasaninconspicuoustypeofman.Respectable.Thekindofmanthatlookslikeeverybodyelse.Mediumheight,hethinks,darkblueovercoat—orcouldbebrown.Notverydarkandnotveryfair.Noreasonheshouldhavehadanythingtodowithit.Onejustdoesn’tknow.Hehasn’tcomeforwardtosayhesawthepriestinTony’splace—butit’searlydaysyet.We’reaskingforanyonewhosawFatherGormanbetweenaquartertoeightandeightfifteentocommunicatewithus.Onlytwopeoplesofarhaveresponded:awomanandachemistwhohadashopnearby.I’llbegoingtoseethempresently.HisbodywasfoundateightfifteenbytwosmallboysinWestStreet—youknowit?Practicallyanalleyway,boundedbytherailwayononeside.Therest—youknow.”
Corrigannodded.Hetappedthepaper.
“What’syourfeelingaboutthis?”
“Ithinkit’simportant,”saidLejeune.
“Thedyingwomantoldhimsomethingandhegotthesenamesdownonpaperassoonashecouldbeforeheforgotthem?Theonlythingis—wouldhehavedonethatifhe’dbeentoldundersealoftheconfessional?”
“Itneedn’thavebeenunderasealofsecrecy,”saidLejeune.“Suppose,forinstance,thesenameshaveaconnectionof—say,blackmail—”
“That’syouridea,isit?”
“Ihaven’tanyideasyet.Thisisjustaworkinghypothesis.Thesepeoplewerebeingblackmailed.Thedyingwomanwaseithertheblackmailer,orsheknewabouttheblackmail.I’dsaythatthegeneralideawas,repentance,confession,andawishtomakereparationasfaraspossible.FatherGormanassumedtheresponsibility.”
“Andthen?”
“Everythingelseisconjectural,”saidLejeune.“Sayitwasapayingracket,andsomeonedidn’twantittostoppaying.SomeoneknewMrs.Daviswasdyingandthatshe’dsentforthepriest.Therestfollows.”
“Iwondernow,”saidCorrigan,studyingthepaperagain.“Whydoyouthinkthere’saninterrogationmarkafterthelasttwonames?”
“ItcouldbethatFatherGormanwasn’tsurehe’drememberedthosetwonamescorrectly.”
“ItmighthavebeenMulliganinsteadofCorrigan,”agreedthedoctorwithagrin.“That’slikelyenough.ButI’dsaythatwithanamelikeDelafontaine,eitheryou’drememberitoryouwouldn’t—ifyouknowwhatImean.It’soddthatthereisn’tasingleaddress—”Hereaddownthelistagain.
“Parkinson—lotsofParkinsons.Sandford,notuncommon—Hesketh-Dubois—that’sabitofamouthful.Can’tbemanyofthem.”
Onasuddenimpulseheleanedforwardandtookthetelephonedirectoryfromthedesk.
“EtoL.Let’ssee.Hesketh,Mrs.A…JohnandCo.,Plumbers…SirIsidore.Ah!hereweare!Hesketh-Dubois,Lady,Forty-nine,EllesmereSquare,S.W.1.Whatsaywejustringherup?”
“Sayingwhat?”
“Inspirationwillcome,”saidDoctorCorriganairily.
“Goahead,”saidLejeune.
“What?”Corriganstaredathim.
“Isaidgoahead,”Lejeunespokeairily.“Don’tlooksotakenaback.”Hehimselfpickedupthereceiver.“Givemeanoutsideline.”HelookedatCorrigan.“Number?”
“Grosvenor64578.”
Lejeunerepeatedit,thenhandedthereceiverovertoCorrigan.
“Enjoyyourself,”hesaid.
Faintlypuzzled,Corriganlookedathimashewaited.Theringingtonecontinuedforsometimebeforeanyoneanswered.Then,interspersedwithheavybreathing,awoman’svoicesaid:
“Grosvenor64578.”
“IsthatLadyHesketh-Dubois’shouse?”
“Well—well,yes—Imean—”
DoctorCorriganignoredtheseuncertainties.
“CanIspeaktoher,please?”
“No,thatyoucan’tdo!LadyHesketh-DuboisdiedlastApril.”
“Oh!”Startled,Dr.Corriganignoredthe“Whoisitspeaking,please?”andgentlyreplacedthereceiver.
HelookedcoldlyatInspectorLejeune.
“Sothat’swhyyouweresoreadytoletmeringup.”
Lejeunesmiledmaliciously.
“Wedon’treallyneglecttheobvious,”hepointedout.
“LastApril,”saidCorriganthoughtfully.“Fivemonthsago.Fivemonthssinceblackmailorwhateveritwashasfailedtoworryher.Shedidn’tcommitsuicide,oranythinglikethat?”
“No.Shediedofatumouronthebrain.”
“Sonowwestartagain,”saidCorrigan,lookingdownatthelist.
Lejeunesighed.
“Wedon’treallyknowthatlisthadanythingtodowithit,”hepointedout.“Itmayhavebeenjustanordinarycoshingonafoggynight—andpreciouslittlehopeoffindingwhodiditunlesswehaveapieceofluck….”
Dr.Corrigansaid:
“DoyoumindifIcontinuetoconcentrateonthislist?”
“Goahead.Iwishyoualltheluckintheworld.”
“MeaningI’mnotlikelytogetanywhereifyouhaven’t!Don’tbetoosure.IshallconcentrateonCorrigan.Mr.orMrs.orMissCorrigan—withabiginterrogationmark.”
Three
I
“Well,really,Mr.Lejeune,Idon’tseewhatmoreIcantellyou!Itolditallbeforetoyoursergeant.Idon’tknowwhoMrs.Daviswas,orwhereshecamefrom.She’dbeenwithmeaboutsixmonths.Shepaidherrentregular,andsheseemedanicequietrespectableperson,andwhatmoreyouexpectmetosayI’msureIdon’tknow.”
Mrs.CoppinspausedforbreathandlookedatLejeunewithsomedispleasure.Hegaveherthegentlemelancholysmilewhichheknewbyexperiencewasnotwithoutitseffect.
“NotthatIwouldn’tbewillingtohelpifIcould,”sheamended.
“Thankyou.That’swhatweneed—help.Womenknow—theyfeelinstinctively—somuchmorethanamancanknow.”
Itwasagoodgambit,anditworked.
“Ah,”saidMrs.Coppins.“IwishCoppinscouldhearyou.Sohoity-toityandoffhandhealwayswas.‘Sayingyouknowthingswhenyouhaven’tgotanythingtogoon!’he’dsayandsnort.AndninetimesoutoftenIwasright.”
“That’swhyI’dliketohearwhatideasyouhaveaboutMrs.Davis.Wasshe—anunhappywoman,doyouthink?”
“Nowastothat—no,Iwouldn’tsayso.Businesslike.That’swhatshealwaysseemed.Methodical.Asthoughshe’dgotherlifeplannedandwasactingaccordingly.Shehadajob,Iunderstand,withoneoftheseconsumerresearchassociations.Goingaroundandaskingpeoplewhatsoappowdertheyused,orflour,andwhattheyspendontheirweeklybudgetandhowit’sdividedup.OfcourseI’vealwaysfeltthatsortofthingissnoopingreally—andwhytheGovernmentoranyoneelsewantstoknowbeatsme!Allyouhearattheendofitisonlywhateverybodyhasknownperfectlywellallalong—butthere,there’sacrazeforthatsortofthingnowadays.Andifyou’vegottohaveit,IshouldsaythatpoorMrs.Daviswoulddothejobverynicely.Apleasantmanner,notnosy,justbusinesslikeandmatter-of-fact.”
“Youdon’tknowtheactualnameofthefirmorassociationthatemployedher?”
“No,Idon’t,I’mafraid.”
“Didsheevermentionrelatives—?”
“No.Igatheredshewasawidowandhadlostherhusbandmanyyearsago.Abitofaninvalidhe’dbeen,butshenevertalkedmuchabouthim.”
“Shedidn’tmentionwhereshecamefrom—whatpartofthecountry?”
“Idon’tthinkshewasaLondoner.Camefromsomewhereupnorth,Ishouldsay.”
“Youdidn’tfeeltherewasanything—well,mysteriousabouther?”
Lejeunefeltadoubtashespoke.Ifshewasasuggestiblewoman—ButMrs.Coppinsdidnottakeadvantageoftheopportunityofferedtoher.
“Well,Ican’tsayreallythatIdid.Certainlynotfromanythingsheeversaid.Theonlythingthatperhapsmighthavemademewonderwashersuitcase.Goodqualityitwas,butnotnew.Andtheinitialsonithadbeenpaintedover.J.D.—JessieDavis.ButoriginallyithadbeenJ.somethingelse.H.,Ithink.ButitmighthavebeenanA.Still,Ididn’tthinkanythingofthatatthetime.Youcanoftenpickupagoodpieceofluggagesecondhandeversocheap,andthenit’snaturaltogettheinitialsaltered.Shehadn’talotofstuff—onlytheonecase.”
Lejeuneknewthat.Thedeadwomanhadhadcuriouslyfewpersonalpossessions.Nolettershadbeenkept,nophotographs.Shehadhadapparentlynoinsurancecard,nobankbook,nochequebook.Herclotheswereofgoodeverydayserviceablequality,nearlynew.
“Sheseemedquitehappy?”heasked.
“Isupposeso.”
Hepouncedonthefaintdoubtfultoneinhervoice.
“Youonlysupposeso?”
“Well,it’snotthekindofthingyouthinkabout,isit?Ishouldsayshewasnicelyoff,withagoodjob,andquitesatisfiedwithherlife.Shewasn’tthebubblingoversort.Butofcourse,whenshegotill—”
“Yes,whenshegotill?”hepromptedher.
“Vexed,shewasatfirst.Whenshewentdownwith’flu,Imean.Itwouldputallherscheduleout,shesaid.Missingappointmentsandallthat.But’flu’s’flu,andyoucan’tignoreitwhenit’sthere.Soshestoppedinbed,andmadeherselfteaonthegasring,andtookaspirin.Isaidwhynothavethedoctorandshesaidnopointinit.Nothingtodofor’flubutstayinbedandkeepwarmandI’dbetternotcomenearhertocatchit.Ididabitofcookingforherwhenshegotbetter.Hotsoupandtoast.Andaricepuddingnowandagain.Itgotherdown,ofcourse,’fludoes—butnotmorethanwhat’susual,I’dsay.It’safterthefevergoesdownthatyougetthedepression—andshegotthatlikeeveryonedoes.Shesatthere,bythegasfire,Iremember,andsaidtome,‘Iwishonedidn’thavesomuchtimetothink.Idon’tlikehavingtimetothink.Itgetsmedown.’”
LejeunecontinuedtolookdeeplyattentiveandMrs.Coppinswarmedtohertheme.
“Lenthersomemagazines,Idid.Butshedidn’tseemabletokeephermindonreading.Saidonce,Iremember,‘Ifthingsaren’talltheyshouldbe,it’sbetternottoknowaboutit,don’tyouagree?’andIsaid,‘That’sright,dearie.’Andshesaid,‘Idon’tknow—I’veneverreallybeensure.’AndIsaidthatwasallright,then.Andshesaid,“EverythingI’vedonehasalwaysbeenperfectlystraightforwardandaboveboard.I’venothingtoreproachmyselfwith.’AndIsaid,‘Ofcourseyouhaven’t,dear.’ButIdidjustwonderinmyownmindwhetherinthefirmthatemployedhertheremightn’thavebeensomefunnybusinesswiththeaccountsmaybe,andshe’dgotwindofit—buthadfeltitwasn’treallyherbusiness.”
“Possible,”agreedLejeune.
“Anyway,shegotwellagain—ornearlyso,andwentbacktowork.Itoldheritwastoosoon.Giveyourselfanotherdayortwo,Isaid.Andthere,howrightIwas!Comebackthesecondevening,shedid,andIcouldseeatonceshe’dgotahighfever.Couldn’thardlyclimbthestairs.Youmusthavethedoctor,Isays,butno,shewouldn’t.Worseandworseshegot,allthatday,hereyesglassy,andhercheekslikefire,andherbreathingterrible.Andthenextdayintheeveningshesaidtome,hardlyabletogetthewordsout:‘Apriest.Imusthaveapriest.Andquickly…oritwillbetoolate.’Butitwasn’tourvicarshewanted.IthadtobeaRomanCatholicpriest.IneverknewshewasaRoman,neveranycrucifixaboutoranythinglikethat.”
Buttherehadbeenacrucifix,tuckedawayatthebottomofthesuitcase.Lejeunedidnotmentionit.Hesatlistening.
“IsawyoungMikeinthestreetandIsenthimforthatFatherGormanatSt.Dominic’s.AndIrangforthedoctor,andthehospitalonmyownaccount,notsayingnothingtoher.”
“Youtookthepriestuptoherwhenhecame?”
“Yes,Idid.Andleftthemtogether.”
“Dideitherofthemsayanything?”
“Wellnow,Ican’texactlyremember.Iwastalkingmyself,sayingherewasthepriestandnowshe’dbeallright,tryingtocheerherup,butIdocalltomindnowasIclosedthedoorIheardhersaysomethingaboutwickedness.Yes—andsomething,too,aboutahorse—horseracing,maybe.Ilikeahalfcrownonmyselfoccasionally—butthere’salotofcrookednessgoesoninracing,sotheysay.”
“Wickedness,”saidLejeune.Hewasstruckbytheword.
“Havetoconfesstheirsins,don’tthey,Romans,beforetheydie?SoIsupposethatwasit.”
Lejeunedidnotdoubtthatthatwasit,buthisimaginationwasstirredbythewordused.Wickedness….
Somethingratherspecialinwickedness,hethought,ifthepriestwhoknewaboutitwasfollowedandclubbedtodeath….
II
Therewasnothingtobelearntfromtheotherthreelodgersinthehouse.Twoofthem,abankclerkandanelderlymanwhoworkedinashoeshop,hadbeenthereforsomeyears.Thethirdwasagirloftwenty-twowhohadcomethererecentlyandhadajobinanearbydepartmentstore.AllthreeofthembarelyknewMrs.Davisbysight.
ThewomanwhohadreportedhavingseenFatherGormaninthestreetthateveninghadnousefulinformationtogive.ShewasaCatholicwhoattendedSt.Dominic’sandsheknewFatherGormanbysight.ShehadseenhimturnoutofBenthallStreetandgointoTony’sPlaceabouttenminutestoeight.Thatwasall.
Mr.Osborne,theproprietorofthechemist’sshoponthecornerofBartonStreet,hadabettercontributiontomake.
Hewasasmall,middle-agedman,withabalddomedhead,aroundingenuousface,andglasses.
“Goodevening,ChiefInspector.Comebehind,willyou?”Hehelduptheflapofanold-fashionedcounter.Lejeunepassedbehindandthroughadispensingalcovewhereayoungmaninawhiteoverallwasmakingupbottlesofmedicinewiththeswiftnessofaprofessionalconjurer,andsothroughanarchwayintoatinyroomwithacoupleofeasychairs,
“ItjusthappensthatImaybeabletoassistyou.Itwasn’tabusyevening—nothingmuchtodo,theweatherbeingunfavourable.Myyoungladywasbehindthecounter.WekeepopenuntileightonThursdaysalways.Thefogwascomingonandthereweren’tmanypeopleabout.I’dgonetothedoortolookattheweather,thinkingtomyselfthatthefogwascomingupfast.Theweatherforecasthadsaiditwould.Istoodthereforabit—nothinggoingoninsidethatmyyoungladycouldn’tdealwith—facecreamsandbathsaltsandallthat.ThenIsawFatherGormancomingalongontheothersideofthestreet.Iknowhimquitewellbysight,ofcourse.Ashockingthing,thismurder,attackingamansowellthoughtofasheis.‘There’sFatherGorman,’Isaidtomyself.HewasgoinginthedirectionofWestStreet,it’sthenextturnontheleftbeforetherailway,asyouknow.Alittlewaybehindhimtherewasanotherman.Itwouldn’thaveenteredmyheadtonoticeorthinkanythingofthat,butquitesuddenlythissecondmancametoastop—quiteabruptly,justwhenhewaslevelwithmydoor.Iwonderedwhyhe’dstopped—andthenInoticedthatFatherGorman,alittlewayahead,wasslowingdown.Hedidn’tquitestop.Itwasasthoughhewasthinkingofsomethingsohardthathealmostforgothewaswalking.Thenhestartedonagain,andthisothermanstartedtowalk,too—ratherfast.Ithought—inasmuchasIthoughtatall,thatperhapsitwassomeonewhoknewFatherGormanandwantedtocatchhimupandspeaktohim.”
“Butinactualfacthecouldsimplyhavebeenfollowinghim?”
“That’swhatI’msurehewasdoingnow—notthatIthoughtanythingofitatthetime.Whatwiththefogcomingup,Ilostsightofthembothalmostatonce.”
“Canyoudescribethismanatall?”
Lejeune’svoicewasnotconfident.Hewaspreparedfortheusualnondescriptcharacteristics.ButMr.OsbornewasmadeofdifferentmettletoTonyofTony’sPlace.
“Well,yes,Ithinkso,”hesaidwithcomplacency.“Hewasatallman—”
“Tall?Howtall?”
“Well—fiveeleventosixfeet,atleast,I’dsay.Thoughhemighthaveseemedtallerthanhewasbecausehewasverythin.Slopingshouldershehad,andadefiniteAdam’sapple.GrewhishairratherlongunderhisHomburg.Agreatbeakofanose.Verynoticeable.NaturallyIcouldn’tsayastothecolourofhiseyes.Isawhiminprofileasyou’llappreciate.Perhapsfiftyastoage.I’mgoingbythewalk.Ayoungishmanmovesquitedifferently.”
Lejeunemadeamentalsurveyofthedistanceacrossthestreet,thenbackagaintoMr.Osborne,andwondered.Hewonderedverymuch….
Adescriptionsuchasthatgivenbythechemistcouldmeanoneoftwothings.Itcouldspringfromanunusuallyvividimagination—hehadknownmanyexamplesofthatkind,mostlyfromwomen.Theybuiltupafancyportraitofwhattheythoughtamurdereroughttolooklike.Suchfancyportraits,however,usuallycontainedsomedecidedlyspuriousdetails—suchasrollingeyes,beetlebrows,apelikejaws,snarlingferocity.ThedescriptiongivenbyMr.Osbornesoundedlikethedescriptionofarealperson.Inthatcaseitwaspossiblethatherewasthewitnessinamillion—amanwhoobservedaccuratelyandindetail—andwhowouldbequiteunshakableastowhathehadseen.
AgainLejeuneconsideredthedistanceacrossthestreet.Hiseyesrestedthoughtfullyonthechemist.
Heasked:“Doyouthinkyouwouldrecognisethismanifyousawhimagain?”
“Oh,yes.”Mr.Osbornewassupremelyconfident.“Ineverforgetaface.It’soneofmyhobbies.I’vealwayssaidthatifoneofthesewifemurdererscameintomyplaceandboughtanicelittlepackageofarsenic,I’dbeabletosweartohimatthetrial.I’vealwayshadmyhopesthatsomethinglikethatwouldhappenoneday.”
“Butithasn’thappenedyet?”
Mr.Osborneadmittedsadlythatithadn’t.
“Andnotlikelytonow,”headdedwistfully.“I’msellingthisbusiness.Gettingaverynicepriceforit,andretiringtoBournemouth.”
“Itlooksaniceplaceyou’vegothere.”
“It’sgotclass,”saidMr.Osborne,anoteofprideinhisvoice.“Nearlyahundredyearswe’vebeenestablishedhere.Mygrandfatherandmyfatherbeforeme.Agoodold-fashionedfamilybusiness.NotthatIsawitthatwayasaboy.Stuffy,Ithoughtit.Likemanyalad,Iwasbittenbythestage.FeltsureIcouldact.Myfatherdidn’ttrytostopme.‘Seewhatyoucanmakeofit,myboy,’hesaid.‘You’llfindyou’renoSirHenryIrving.’Andhowrighthewas!Verywiseman,myfather.EighteenmonthsorsoinrepertoryandbackIcameintothebusiness.Tookaprideinit,Idid.We’vealwayskeptgoodsolidstuff.Old-fashioned.Butquality.Butnowadays”—heshookhisheadsadly—“disappointingforapharmaceutist.Allthistoiletstuff.You’vegottokeepit.Halftheprofitscomefromallthatmuck.Powderandlipstickandfacecreams;andhairshampoosandfancyspongebags.Idon’ttouchthestuffmyself.Ihaveayoungladybehindthecounterwhoattendstoallthat.No,it’snotwhatitusedtobe,havingachemist’sestablishment.However,I’veagoodsumputby,andI’mgettingaverygoodprice,andI’vemadeadownpaymentonaverynicelittlebungalownearBournemouth.”
Headded:
“Retirewhilstyoucanstillenjoylife.That’smymotto.I’vegotplentyofhobbies.Butterflies,forinstance.Andabitofbirdwatchingnowandthen.Andgardening—plentyofgoodbooksonhowtostartagarden.Andthere’stravel.Imightgoononeofthesecruises—seeforeignpartsbeforeit’stoolate.”
Lejeunerose.
“Well,Iwishyouthebestofluck,”hesaid.“Andif,beforeyouactuallyleavetheseparts,youshouldcatchsightofthatman—”
“I’llletyouknowatonce,Mr.Lejeune.Naturally.Youcancountonme.Itwillbeapleasure.AsI’vetoldyou,I’veaverygoodeyeforaface.Ishallbeonthelookout.Onthequivive,astheysay.Ohyes.Youcanrelyonme.Itwillbeapleasure.”
Four
MarkEasterbrook’sNarrative
I
IcameoutoftheOldVic,myfriendHermiaRedcliffebesideme.WehadbeentoseeaperformanceofMacbeth.Itwasraininghard.AsweranacrossthestreettothespotwhereIhadparkedthecar,HermiaremarkedunjustlythatwheneveronewenttotheOldVicitalwaysrained.
“It’sjustoneofthosethings.”
Idissentedfromthisview.Isaidthat,unlikesundials,sherememberedonlytherainyhours.
“NowatGlyndebourne,”wentonHermiaasIletintheclutch,“I’vealwaysbeenlucky.Ican’timagineitotherthanperfection:themusic—thegloriousflowerborders—thewhiteflowerborderinparticular.”
WediscussedGlyndebourneanditsmusicforawhile,andthenHermiaremarked:
“We’renotgoingtoDoverforbreakfast,arewe?”
“Dover?Whatanextraordinaryidea.Ithoughtwe’dgototheFantasie.OneneedssomereallygoodfoodanddrinkafterallthemagnificentbloodandgloomofMacbeth,Shakespearealwaysmakesmeravenous.”
“Yes.SodoesWagner.SmokedsalmonsandwichesatCoventGardenintheintervalsareneverenoughtostaythepangs.AstowhyDover,it’sbecauseyou’redrivinginthatdirection.”
“Onehastogoround,”Iexplained.
“Butyou’veoverdonegoinground.You’rewellawayontheOld(orisittheNew?)KentRoad.”
ItookstockofmysurroundingsandhadtoadmitthatHermia,asusual,wasquiteright.
“Ialwaysgetmuddledhere,”Isaidinapology.
“Itisconfusing,”Hermiaagreed.“RoundandroundWaterlooStation.”
HavingatlastsuccessfullynegotiatedWestminsterBridgeweresumedourconversation,discussingtheproductionofMacbeththatwehadjustbeenviewing.MyfriendHermiaRedcliffewasahandsomeyoungwomanoftwenty-eight.Castintheheroicmould,shehadanalmostflawlessGreekprofile,andamassofdarkchestnuthair,coiledonthenapeofherneck.Mysisteralwaysreferredtoheras“Mark’sgirlfriend”withanintonationofinvertedcommasaboutthetermthatneverfailedtoannoyme.
TheFantasiegaveusapleasantwelcomeandshowedustoasmalltableagainstthecrimsonvelvetwall.TheFantasieisdeservedlypopular,andthetablesareclosetogether.Aswesatdown,ourneighborsatthenexttablegreeteduscheerfully.DavidArdinglywasalecturerinHistoryatOxford.Heintroducedhiscompanion,averyprettygirl,withafashionablehairdo,allends,bitsandpieces,stickingoutatimprobableanglesonthecrownofherhead.Strangetosay,itsuitedher.Shehadenormousblueeyesandamouththatwasusuallyhalfopen.Shewas,asallDavid’sgirlswereknowntobe,extremelysilly.David,whowasaremarkablycleveryoungman,couldonlyfindrelaxationwithgirlswhowerepracticallyhalf-witted.
“Thisismyparticularpet,Poppy,”heexplained.“MeetMarkandHermia.They’reveryseriousandhighbrowandyoumusttryandliveuptothem.We’vejustcomefromDoitforKicks.Lovelyshow!IbetyoutwoarestraightfromShakespeareorarevivalofIbsen.”
“MacbethattheOldVic,”saidHermia.
“Ah,whatdoyouthinkofBatterson’sproduction?”
“Ilikedit,”saidHermia.“Thelightingwasveryinteresting.AndI’veneverseenthebanquetscenesowellmanaged.”
“Ah,butwhataboutthewitches?”
“Awful!”saidHermia.“Theyalwaysare,”sheadded.
Davidagreed.
“Apantomimeelementseemsboundtocreepin,”hesaid.“AllofthemcaperingaboutandbehavinglikeathreefoldDemonKing.Youcan’thelpexpectingaGoodFairytoappearinwhitewithspanglestosayinaflatvoice:
Yourevilshallnottriumph.Intheend,ItisMacbethwhowillberoundthebend.”
Wealllaughed,butDavid,whowasquickontheuptake,gavemeasharpglance
“Whatgiveswithyou?”heasked.
“Nothing.ItwasjustthatIwasreflectingonlytheotherdayaboutEvilandDemonKingsinpantomime.Yes—andGoodFairies,too.”
“Aproposdewhat?”
“Oh,inChelseaatacoffeebar.”
“Howsmartandup-to-dateyouare,aren’tyou,Mark?AllamongtheChelseaset.Whereheiressesintightsmarrycornerboysonthemake.That’swherePoppyoughttobe,isn’tit,duckie?”
Poppyopenedherenormouseyesstillwider.
“IhateChelsea,”sheprotested.“IliketheFantasiemuchbetter!Suchlovely,lovelyfood.”
“Goodforyou,Poppy.Anyway,you’renotreallyrichenoughforChelsea.TellusmoreaboutMacbeth,Mark,andtheawfulwitches.IknowhowI’dproducethewitchesifIweredoingaproduction.”
DavidhadbeenaprominentmemberoftheO.U.D.S.inthepast.
“Well,how?”
“I’dmakethemveryordinary.Justslyquietoldwomen.Likethewitchesinacountryvillage.”
“Buttherearen’tanywitchesnowadays?”saidPoppy,staringathim.
“Yousaythatbecauseyou’reaLondongirl.There’sstillawitchineveryvillageinruralEngland.OldMrs.Black,inthethirdcottageupthehill.Littleboysaretoldnottoannoyher,andshe’sgivenpresentsofeggsandahome-bakedcakenowandagain.Because,”hewaggedafingerimpressively,“ifyougetacrossher,yourcowswillstopgivingmilk,yourpotatocropwillfail,orlittleJohnniewilltwisthisankle.YoumustkeepontherightsideofoldMrs.Black.Nobodysayssooutright—buttheyallknow!”
“You’rejoking,”saidPoppy,pouting
“No,I’mnot.I’mright,aren’tI,Mark?”
“Surelyallthatkindofsuperstitionhasdiedoutcompletelywitheducation,”saidHermiasceptically.
“Notintheruralpocketsoftheland.Whatdoyousay,Mark?”
“Ithinkperhapsyou’reright,”Isaidslowly.“ThoughIwouldn’treallyknow.I’veneverlivedinthecountrymuch.”
“Idon’tseehowyoucouldproducethewitchesasordinaryoldwomen,”saidHermia,revertingtoDavid’searlierremark.“Theymusthaveasupernaturalatmosphereaboutthem,surely.”
“Oh,butjustthink,”saidDavid.“It’sratherlikemadness.Ifyouhavesomeonewhoravesandstaggersaboutwithstrawsintheirhairandlooksmad,it’snotfrighteningatall!ButIrememberbeingsentoncewithamessagetoadoctoratamentalhomeandIwasshownintoaroomtowait,andtherewasaniceelderlyladythere,sippingaglassofmilk.Shemadesomeconventionalremarkabouttheweatherandthensuddenlysheleantforwardandaskedinalowvoice:
“‘Isityourpoorchildwho’sburiedtherebehindthefireplace?’Andthenshenoddedherheadandsaid‘12:10exactly.It’salwaysatthesametimeeveryday.Pretendyoudon’tnoticetheblood.’
“Itwasthematter-of-factwayshesaiditthatwassospine-chilling.”
“Wastherereallysomeoneburiedbehindthefireplace?”Poppywantedtoknow.
Davidignoredherandwenton:
“Thentakemediums.Atonemomenttrances,darkenedrooms,knocksandraps.Afterwardsthemediumsitsup,patsherhairandgoeshometoamealoffishandchips,justanordinaryquitejollywoman.”
“Soyourideaofthewitches,”Isaid,“isthreeoldScottishcroneswithsecondsight—whopractisetheirartsinsecret,mutteringtheirspellsaroundacauldron,conjuringupspirits,butremainingthemselvesjustanordinarytrioofoldwomen.Yes—itcouldbeimpressive.”
“Ifyoucouldevergetanyactorstoplayitthatway,”saidHermiadrily.
“Youhavesomethingthere,”admittedDavid.“Anyhintofmadnessinthescriptandanactorisimmediatelydeterminedtogototownonit!Thesamewithsuddendeaths.Noactorcanjustquietlycollapseandfalldowndead.Hehastogroan,stagger,rollhiseyes,gasp,clutchhisheart,clutchhishead,andmakeaterrificperformanceofit.Talkingofperformances,whatdidyouthinkofFielding’sMacbeth?Greatdivisionofopinionamongthecritics.”
“Ithoughtitwasterrific,”saidHermia.“Thatscenewiththedoctor,afterthesleepwalkingscene.‘Canstthounotministertoaminddiseas’d.’HemadeclearwhatI’dneverthoughtofbefore—thathewasreallyorderingthedoctortokillher.Andyethelovedhiswife.Hebroughtoutthestrugglebetweenhisfearandhislove.That‘Thoushouldsthavediedhereafter’wasthemostpoignantthingI’veeverknown.”
“Shakespearemightgetafewsurprisesifhesawhisplaysactednowadays,”Isaiddrily.
“BurbageandCo.hadalreadyquenchedagooddealofhisspirit,Isuspect,”saidDavid.
Hermiamurmured:
“Theeternalsurpriseoftheauthoratwhattheproducerhasdonetohim.”
“Didn’tsomebodycalledBaconreallywriteShakespeare?”askedPoppy.
“Thattheoryisquiteoutofdatenowadays,”saidDavidkindly.“AndwhatdoyouknowofBacon?”
“Heinventedgunpowder,”saidPoppytriumphantly.
“YouseewhyIlovethisgirl?”hesaid.“Thethingssheknowsarealwayssounexpected.Francis,notRoger,mylove.”
“Ithoughtitinteresting,”saidHermia,“thatFieldingplayedthepartofThirdMurderer.Isthereaprecedentforthat?”
“Ibelieveso,”saidDavid.“Howconvenientitmusthavebeeninthosetimes,”hewenton,“tobeabletocallupahandymurdererwheneveryouwantedalittlejobdone.Funifonecoulddoitnowadays.”
“Butitisdone,”protestedHermia.“Gangsters.Hoods—orwhateveryoucallthem.Chicagoandallthat.”
“Ah,”saidDavid.“ButwhatImeantwasnotgangsterdom,notracketeersorCrimeBarons.Justordinaryeverydayfolkwhowanttogetridofsomeone.Thatbusinessrival;AuntEmily,sorichandsounfortunatelylong-lived;thatawkwardhusbandalwaysintheway.HowconvenientifyoucouldringupHarrodsandsay‘Pleasesendalongtwogoodmurderers,willyou?’”
Wealllaughed.
“Butonecandothatinaway,can’tone?”saidPoppy.
Weturnedtowardsher.
“Whatway,poppet?”askedDavid.
“Well,Imean,peoplecandothatiftheywantto…Peoplelikeus,asyousaid.OnlyIbelieveit’sveryexpensive.”
Poppy’seyeswerewideandingenuous,herlipswereslightlyparted.
“Whatdoyoumean?”askedDavidcuriously.
Poppylookedconfused.
“Oh—Iexpect—I’vegotitmixed.ImeantthePaleHorse.Allthatsortofthing.”
“Apalehorse?Whatkindofapalehorse?”
Poppyflushedandhereyesdropped.
“I’mbeingstupid.It’sjustsomethingsomeonementioned—butImusthavegotitallwrong.”
“HavesomelovelyCoupeNesselrode,”saidDavidkindly.
II
Oneoftheoddestthingsinlife,asweallknow,isthewaythatwhenyouhaveheardathingmentioned,withintwenty-fourhoursyounearlyalwayscomeacrossitagain.Ihadaninstanceofthatthenextmorning.
MytelephonerangandIansweredit—
“Flaxman73841.”
Akindofgaspcamethroughthephone.Thenavoicesaidbreathlesslybutdefiantly:
“I’vethoughtaboutit,andI’llcome!”
Icastroundwildlyinmymind.
“Splendid,”Isaid,stallingfortime.“Er—isthat—?”
“Afterall,”saidthevoice,“lightningneverstrikestwice.”
“Areyousureyou’vegottherightnumber?”
“OfcourseIhave.You’reMarkEasterbrook,aren’tyou?”
“Gotit!”Isaid.“Mrs.Oliver.”
“Oh,”saidthevoice,surprised.“Didn’tyouknowwhoitwas?Ineverthoughtofthat.It’saboutthatfêteofRhoda’s.I’llcomeandsignbooksifshewantsmeto.”
“That’sfrightfullyniceofyou.They’llputyouup,ofcourse.”
“Therewon’tbeparties,willthere?”askedMrs.Oliverapprehensively.
“Youknowthekindofthing,”shewenton.“PeoplecominguptomeandsayingamIwritingsomethingjustnow—whenyou’dthinktheycouldseeI’mdrinkinggingeraleortomatojuiceandnotwritingatall.Andsayingtheylikemybooks—whichofcourseispleasing,butI’veneverfoundtherightanswer.Ifyousay‘I’msoglad’itsoundslike‘Pleasedtomeetyou.’Akindofstockphrase.Well,itis,ofcourse.Andyoudon’tthinkthey’llwantmetogoouttothePinkHorseandhavedrinks?”
“ThePinkHorse?”
“Well,thePaleHorse.Pubs,Imean.I’msobadinpubs.Icanjustdrinkbeeratapinch,butitmakesmeterriblygurgly.”
“JustwhatdoyoumeanbythePaleHorse?”
“There’sapubcalledthatdownthere,isn’tthere?OrperhapsIdomeanthePinkHorse?Orperhapsthat’ssomewhereelse.Imayhavejustimaginedit.Idoimaginequitealotofthings.”
“How’stheCockatoogettingon?”Iasked.
“TheCockatoo?”Mrs.Oliversoundedatsea.
“Andthecricketball?”
“Really,”saidMrs.Oliverwithdignity.“Ithinkyoumustbemadorhaveahangoverorsomething.PinkHorsesandcockatoosandcricketballs.”
Sherangoff.
IwasstillconsideringthissecondmentionofthePaleHorsewhenmytelephonerangagain.
Thistime,itwasMr.SoamesWhite,adistinguishedsolicitorwhoranguptoremindmethatunderthewillofmygodmother,LadyHesketh-Dubois,Iwasentitledtochoosethreeofherpictures.
“Thereisnothingoutstandinglyvaluable,ofcourse,”saidMr.SoamesWhiteinhisdefeatistmelancholytones.“ButIunderstandthatatsometimeyouexpressedadmirationofsomeofthepicturestothedeceased.”
“ShehadsomeverycharmingwatercoloursofIndianscenes,”Isaid.“Ibelieveyoualreadyhavewrittentomeaboutthismatter,butI’mafraiditslippedmymemory.”
“Quiteso,”saidMr.SoamesWhite.“Butprobatehasnowbeengranted,andtheexecutors,ofwhomIamone,arearrangingforthesaleoftheeffectsofherLondonhouse.IfyoucouldgoroundtoEllesmereSquareinthenearfuture….”
“I’llgonow,”Isaid.
Itseemedanunfavourablemorningforwork.
III
Carryingthethreewatercoloursofmychoiceundermyarm,IemergedfromForty-nineEllesmereSquareandimmediatelycannonedintosomeonecomingupthestepstothefrontdoor.Iapologised,receivedapologiesinreturn,andwasjustabouttohailapassingtaxiwhensomethingclickedinmymindandIturnedsharplytoask:
“Hallo—isn’titCorrigan?”
“Itis—and—yes—you’reMarkEasterbrook!”
JimCorriganandIhadbeenfriendsinourOxforddays—butitmusthavebeenfifteenyearsormoresincewehadlastmet.
“ThoughtIknewyou—butcouldn’tplaceyouforthemoment,”saidCorrigan.“Ireadyourarticlesnowandagain—andenjoythem,Imustsay.”
“Whataboutyou?Haveyougoneinforresearchasyoumeanttodo?”
Corrigansighed.
“Hardly.It’sanexpensivejob—ifyouwanttostrikeoutonyourown.Unlessyoucanfindatamemillionaire,orasuggestibleTrust.”
“Liverflukes,wasn’tit?”
“Whatamemory!No,Iwentoffliverflukes.ThepropertiesofthesecretionsoftheMandarianglands;that’smypresent-dayinterest.Youwouldn’thaveheardofthem!Connectedwiththespleen.Apparentlyservingnopurposewhatever!”
Hespokewithascientist’senthusiasm
“What’sthebigidea,then?”
“Well,”Corrigansoundedapologetic.“Ihaveatheorythattheymayinfluencebehaviour.Toputitverycrudely,theymayactratherasthefluidinyourcarbrakesdoes.Nofluid—thebrakesdon’tact.Inhumanbeings,adeficiencyinthesesecretionsmight—Ionlysaymight—makeyouacriminal.”
Iwhistled.
“AndwhathappenstoOriginalSin?”
“Whatindeed?”saidDr.Corrigan.“Theparsonswouldn’tlikeit,wouldthey?Ihaven’tbeenabletointerestanyoneinmytheory,unfortunately.SoI’mapolicesurgeon,inN.W.division.Quiteinteresting.Oneseesalotofcriminaltypes.ButIwon’tboreyouwithshop—unlessyou’llcomeandhavesomelunchwithme?”
“I’dliketo.Butyouweregoinginthere,”InoddedtowardsthehousebehindCorrigan.
“Notreally,”saidCorrigan.“Iwasjustgoingtogatecrash.”
“There’snobodytherebutacaretaker.”
“SoIimagined.ButIwantedtofindoutsomethingaboutthelateLadyHesketh-DuboisifIcould.”
“IdaresayIcantellyoumorethanacaretakercould.Shewasmygodmother.”
“Wassheindeed?That’sabitofluck.Whereshallwegotofeed?There’salittleplaceoffLowndesSquare—notgrand,buttheydoaspecialkindofseafoodsoup.”
Wesettledourselvesinthelittlerestaurant—acauldronofsteamingsoupwasbroughttousbyapale-facedladinFrenchsailortrousers.
“Delicious,”Isaid,samplingthesoup.“Nowthen,Corrigan,whatdoyouwanttoknowabouttheoldlady?Andincidentally,why?”
“Why’sratheralongstory,”saidmyfriend.“Firsttellmewhatkindofanoldladyshewas?”
Iconsidered.
“Shewasanold-fashionedtype,”Isaid.“Victorian.Widowofanex-Governorofsomeobscureisland.Shewasrichandlikedhercomfort.WentabroadinthewinterstoEstorilandplaceslikethat.Herhouseishideous,fullofVictorianfurnitureandtheworstandmostornatekindofVictoriansilver.Shehadnochildren,butkeptacoupleoffairlywell-behavedpoodleswhomsheloveddearly.ShewasopinionatedandastaunchConservative.Kindly,butautocratic.Verysetinherways.Whatmoredoyouwanttoknow?”
“I’mnotquitesure,”saidCorrigan.“Wassheeverlikelytohavebeenblackmailed,wouldyousay?”
“Blackmailed?”Iaskedinlivelyastonishment.“Icanimaginenothingmoreunlikely.Whatisthisallabout?”
ItwasthenIheardforthefirsttimeofthecircumstancesofFatherGorman’smurder.
Ilaiddownmyspoonandasked,
“Thislistofnames?Haveyougotit?”
“Nottheoriginal.ButIcopiedthemout.Hereyouare.”
Itookthepaperheproducedfromhispocketandproceededtostudyit.
“Parkinson?IknowtwoParkinsons.ArthurwhowentintotheNavy.Thenthere’saHenryParkinsoninoneoftheMinistries.Ormerod—there’saMajorOrmerodintheBlues—Sandford—ouroldRectorwhenIwasaboywasSandford.Harmondsworth?No—Tuckerton—”Ipaused.“Tuckerton…NotThomasinaTuckerton,Isuppose?”
Corriganlookedatmecuriously.
“Couldbe,forallIknow.Who’ssheandwhatdoesshedo?”
“Nothingnow.Herdeathwasinthepaperaboutaweekago.”
“That’snotmuchhelp,then.”
Icontinuedwithmyreading.“Shaw.IknowadentistcalledShaw,andthere’sJeromeShaw,Q.C….Delafontaine—I’veheardthatnamelately,butIcan’trememberwhere.Corrigan.Doesthatrefertoyou,byanychance?”
“Idevoutlyhopenot.I’veafeelingthatit’sunluckytohaveyournameonthatlist.”
“Maybe.Whatmadeyouthinkofblackmailinconnectionwithit?”
“ItwasDetective-InspectorLejeune’ssuggestionifIrememberrightly.Itseemedthemostlikelypossibility—Butthereareplentyofothers.Thismaybealistofdopesmugglersordrugaddictsorsecretagents—itmaybeanythinginfact.There’sonlyonethingsure,itwasimportantenoughformurdertobecommittedinordertogetholdofit.”
Iaskedcuriously:“Doyoualwaystakesuchaninterestinthepolicesideofyourwork?”
Heshookhishead.
“Can’tsayIdo.Myinterestisincriminalcharacter.Background,upbringing,andparticularlyglandularhealth—allthat!”
“Thenwhytheinterestinthislistofnames?”
“BlessedifIknow,”saidCorriganslowly.“Seeingmyownnameonthelist,perhaps.UptheCorrigans!OneCorrigantotherescueofanotherCorrigan.”
“Rescue?Thenyoudefinitelyseethisasalistofvictims—notalistofmalefactors.Butsurelyitcouldbeeither?”
“You’reentirelyright.Andit’scertainlyoddthatIshouldbesopositive.Perhapsit’sjustafeeling.Orperhapsit’ssomethingtodowithFatherGorman.Ididn’tcomeacrosshimveryoften,buthewasafineman,respectedbyeveryoneandlovedbyhisownflock.Hewasthegoodtoughmilitantkind.Ican’tgetitoutofmyheadthatheconsideredthislistamatteroflifeordeath….”
“Aren’tthepolicegettinganywhere?”
“Ohyes,butit’salongbusiness.Checkinghere,checkingthere.Checkingtheantecedentsofthewomanwhocalledhimoutthatnight.”
“Whowasshe?”
“Nomysteryabouther,apparently.Widow.Wehadanideathatherhusbandmighthavebeenconnectedwithhorseracing,butthatdoesn’tseemtobeso.Sheworkedforasmallcommercialfirmthatdoesconsumerresearch.Nothingwrongthere.Theyareareputablefirminasmallway.Theydon’tknowmuchabouther.ShecamefromthenorthofEngland—Lancashire.Theonlyoddthingaboutheristhatshehadsofewpersonalpossessions.”
Ishruggedmyshoulders.
“Iexpectthat’strueforalotmorepeoplethanweeverimagine.It’salonelyworld.”
“Yes,asyousay.”
“Anyway,youdecidedtotakeahand?”
“Justnosingaround.Hesketh-Duboisisanuncommonname.IthoughtifIcouldfindoutalittleaboutthelady—”Heleftthesentenceunfinished.“Butfromwhatyoutellme,theredoesn’tseemtobeanypossibleleadthere.”
“Neitheradopeaddictnoradopesmuggler,”Iassuredhim.“Certainlynotasecretagent.Hasledfartooblamelessalifetohavebeenblackmailed.Ican’timaginewhatkindofalistshecouldpossiblybeon.Herjewelleryshekeepsatthebanksoshewouldn’tbeahopefulprospectforrobbery.”
“AnyotherHesketh-Duboisesthatyouknowabout?Sons?”
“Nochildren.She’sgotanephewandaniece,Ithink,butnotofthatname.Herhusbandwasanonlychild.”
CorrigantoldmesourlythatI’dbeenalotofhelp.Helookedathiswatch,remarkedcheerfullythathewasduetocutsomebodyup,andweparted.
Iwenthomethoughtful,founditimpossibletoconcentrateonmywork,andfinally,onanimpulse,rangupDavidArdingly.
“David?Markhere.ThatgirlImetwithyoutheotherevening.Poppy.What’sherothername?”
“Goingtopinchmygirl,isthatit?”
Davidsoundedhighlyamused.
“You’vegotsomanyofthem,”Iretorted.“Youcouldsurelyspareone.”
“You’vegotaheavyweightofyourown,oldboy.Ithoughtyouweregoingsteadywithher.”
“Goingsteady.”Arepulsiveterm.Andyet,Ithought,strucksuddenlywithitsaptitude,howwellitdescribedmyrelationshipwithHermia.Andwhyshoulditmakemefeeldepressed?IhadalwaysfeltinthebackofmymindthatsomedayHermiaandIwouldmarry…IlikedherbetterthananyoneIknew.Wehadsomuchincommon….
Fornoconceivablereason,Ifeltaterribledesiretoyawn…Ourfuturestretchedoutbeforeme.HermiaandIgoingtoplaysofsignificance—thatmattered.Discussionsofart—ofmusic.Nodoubtaboutit,Hermiawastheperfectcompanion.
Butnotmuchfun,saidsomederisiveimp,poppingupfrommysubconscious.Iwasshocked.
“Gonetosleep?”askedDavid.
“Ofcoursenot.Totellthetruth,IfoundyourfriendPoppyveryrefreshing.”
“Goodword.Sheis—takeninsmalldoses.HeractualnameisPamelaStirling,andsheworksinoneofthoseartyflowerplacesinMayfair.Youknow,threedeadtwigs,atulipwithitspetalspinnedbackandaspeckledlaurelleaf.Pricethreeguineas.”
Hegavemetheaddress.
“Takeheroutandenjoyyourself,”hesaidinakindlyavuncularfashion.“You’llfinditagreatrelaxation.Thatgirlknowsnothing—she’sabsolutelyempty-headed.She’llbelieveanythingyoutellher.She’svirtuousbytheway,sodon’tindulgeinanyfalsehopes.”
Herangoff.
IV
IinvadedtheportalsofFlowerStudiesLtd.withsometrepidation.Anoverpoweringsmellofgardenianearlyknockedmebackwards.Anumberofgirls,dressedinpalegreensheathsandalllookingexactlylikePoppy,confusedme.FinallyIidentifiedher.Shewaswritingdownanaddresswithsomedifficulty,pausingdoubtfullyoverthespellingofFortescueCrescent.Assoonasshewasatliberty,afterhavingfurtherdifficultiesconnectedwithproducingtherightchangeforafive-poundnote,Iclaimedherattention.
“Wemettheothernight—withDavidArdingly,”Iremindedher.
“Ohyes!”agreedPoppywarmly,hereyespassingvaguelyovermyhead.
“Iwantedtoaskyousomething.”Ifeltsuddenqualms.“PerhapsI’dbetterbuysomeflowers?”
Likeanautomatonwhohashadtherightbuttonpressed,Poppysaid:
“We’vesomelovelyroses,freshintoday.”
“Theseyellowones,perhaps?”Therewereroseseverywhere.“Howmucharethey?”
“Vewyvewycheap,”saidPoppyinahoneyedpersuasivevoice.“Onlyfiveshillingseach.”
IswallowedandsaidIwouldhavesixofthem.
“Andsomeofthesevewyspecialleaveswiththem?”
Ilookeddubiouslyatthespecialleaveswhichappearedtobeinanadvancedstateofdecay.InsteadIchosesomebrightgreenasparagusfern,whichchoiceobviouslyloweredmeinPoppy’sestimation.
“TherewassomethingIwantedtoaskyou,”IreiteratedasPoppywasratherclumsilydrapingtheasparagusfernroundtheroses.“TheothereveningyoumentionedsomethingcalledthePaleHorse.”
Withaviolentstart,Poppydroppedtherosesandtheasparagusfernonthefloor.
“Canyoutellmemoreaboutit?”
Poppystraightenedherselfafterstooping.
“Whatdidyousay?”sheasked.
“IwasaskingyouaboutthePaleHorse.”
“Apalehorse?Whatdoyoumean?”
“Youmentionedittheotherevening.”
“I’msureIneverdidanythingofthekind!I’veneverheardofanysuchthing.”
“Somebodytoldyouaboutit.Whowasit?”
Poppydrewadeepbreathandspokeveryfast.
“Idon’tintheleastknowwhatyoumean!Andwe’renotsupposedtotalktocustomers.”…Sheslappedpaperroundmychoice.“Thatwillbethirty-fiveshillings,please.”
Igavehertwopoundnotes.Shethrustsixshillingsintomyhandandturnedquicklytoanothercustomer.
Herhands,Inoticed,wereshakingslightly.
Iwentoutslowly.WhenIhadgonealittleway,Irealisedshehadquotedthewrongprice(asparagusfernwassevenandsix)andhadalsogivenmetoomuchchange.Hermistakesinarithmetichadpreviouslybeenintheotherdirection
Isawagaintheratherlovelyvacantfaceandthewideblueeyes.Therehadbeensomethingshowinginthoseeyes….
“Scared,”Isaidtomyself.“Scaredstiff…Nowwhy?Why?”
Five
MarkEasterbrook’sNarrative
“Whatarelief,”sighedMrs.Oliver.“Tothinkit’soverandnothinghashappened!”
Itwasamomentofrelaxation.Rhoda’sfêtehadpassedoffinthemanneroffêtes.Violentanxietyabouttheweatherwhichintheearlymorningappearedcapriciousintheextreme.Considerableargumentastowhetheranystallsshouldbesetupintheopen,orwhethereverythingshouldtakeplaceinthelongbarnandthemarquee.Variouspassionatelocaldisputesregardingteaarrangements,producestalls,etcetera.TactfulsettlementofsamebyRhoda.PeriodicalescapesofRhoda’sdelightfulbutundisciplineddogswhoweresupposedtobeincarceratedinthehouse,owingtodoubtsastotheirbehaviouronthisgreatoccasion.Doubtsfullyjustified!Arrivalofpleasantbutvaguestarletinaprofusionofpalefur,toopenthefête,whichshedidverycharmingly,addingafewmovingwordsabouttheplightofrefugeeswhichpuzzledeverybody,sincetheobjectofthefêtewastherestorationofthechurchtower.Enormoussuccessofthebottlestall.Theusualdifficultiesaboutchange.Pandemoniumatteatimewheneverypatronwantedtoinvadethemarqueeandpartakeofitsimultaneously.
Finally,blessedarrivalofevening.Displaysoflocaldancinginthelongbarnwerestillgoingon.Fireworksandabonfirewerescheduled,butthewearyhouseholdhadnowretiredtothehouse,andwerepartakingofasketchycoldmealinthediningroom,indulgingmeanwhileinoneofthosedesultoryconversationswhereeveryoneutterstheirownthoughts,andpayslittleattentiontothoseofotherpeople.Itwasalldisjointedandcomfortable.Thereleaseddogscrunchedboneshappilyunderthetable
“WeshalltakemorethanwedidfortheSavetheChildrenlastyear,”saidRhodagleefully.
“Itseemsveryextraordinarytome,”saidMissMacalister,thechildren’sScottishnurserygoverness,“thatMichaelBrentshouldfindtheburiedtreasurethreeyearsinsuccession.I’mwonderingifhegetssomeadvanceinformation?”
“LadyBrookbankwonthepig,”saidRhoda.“Idon’tthinkshewantedit.Shelookedterriblyembarrassed.”
ThepartyconsistedofmycousinRhoda,andherhusbandColonelDespard,MissMacalister,ayoungwomanwithredhairsuitablycalledGinger,Mrs.Oliver,andthevicar,theRev.CalebDaneCalthropandhiswife.Thevicarwasacharmingelderlyscholarwhoseprincipalpleasurewasfindingsomeappositecommentfromtheclassics.This,thoughoftenanembarrassment,andacauseofbringingtheconversationtoaclose,wasperfectlyinordernow.ThevicarneverrequiredacknowledgementofhissonorousLatin,hispleasureinhavingfoundanaptquotationwasitsownreward.
“AsHoracesays…”heobserved,beamingroundthetable.
Theusualpausehappenedandthen:
“IthinkMrs.Horsefallcheatedoverthebottleofchampagne,”saidGingerthoughtfully.“Hernephewgotit.”
Mrs.DaneCalthrop,adisconcertingwomanwithfineeyes,wasstudyingMrs.Oliverthoughtfully.Sheaskedabruptly:
“Whatdidyouexpecttohappenatthisfête?”
“Well,really,amurderorsomethinglikethat?”
Mrs.DaneCalthroplookedinterested.
“Butwhyshouldit?”
“Noreasonatall.Mostunlikely,really.ButtherewasoneatthelastfêteIwentto.”
“Isee.Anditupsetyou?”
“Verymuch.”
ThevicarchangedfromLatintoGreek.
Afterthepause,MissMacalistercastdoubtsonthehonestyoftherafflefortheliveduck.
“VerysportingofoldLuggattheKing’sArmstosendustwelvedozenbeerforthebottlestall,”saidDespard.
“King’sArms?”Iaskedsharply.
“Ourlocal,darling,”saidRhoda.
“Isn’tthereanotherpubroundhere?The—PaleHorse,didn’tyousay,”Iasked,turningtoMrs.Oliver.
TherewasnosuchreactionhereasIhadhalfexpected.Thefacesturnedtowardsmewerevagueanduninterested.
“ThePaleHorseisn’tapub,”saidRhoda.“Imean,notnow.”
“Itwasanoldinn,”saidDespard.“MostlysixteenthcenturyI’dsay.Butit’sjustanordinaryhousenow.Ialwaysthinktheyshouldhavechangedthename.”
“Oh,no,”exclaimedGinger.“ItwouldhavebeenawfullysillytocallitWayside,orFairview.IthinkthePaleHorseismuchnicer,andthere’salovelyoldinnsign.They’vegotitframedinthehall.”
“Who’sthey?”Iasked.
“ItbelongstoThyrzaGrey,”saidRhoda.“Idon’tknowifyousawhertoday?Tallwomanwithshortgreyhair.”
“She’sveryoccult,”saidDespard.“Goesinforspiritualismandtrances,andmagic.Notquiteblackmasses,butthatsortofthing.”
Gingergaveasuddenpealoflaughter.
“I’msorry,”shesaidapologetically.“IwasjustthinkingofMissGreyasMadamedeMontespanonablackvelvetaltar.”
“Ginger!”saidRhoda.“Notinfrontofthevicar.”
“Sorry,Mr.DaneCalthrop.”
“Notatall,”saidthevicar,beaming.“Astheancientsputit—”hecontinuedforsometimeinGreek.
Afterarespectfulsilenceofappreciation,Ireturnedtotheattack.
“Istillwanttoknowwhoare‘they’—MissGreyandwhoelse?”
“Oh,there’safriendwholiveswithher.SybilStamfordis.Sheactsasmedium,Ibelieve.Youmusthaveseenherabout—Lotsofscarabsandbeads—andsometimessheputsonasari—Ican’tthinkwhy—she’sneverbeeninIndia—”
“Andthenthere’sBella,”saidMrs.DaneCalthrop.“She’stheircook,”sheexplained.“Andshe’salsoawitch.ShecomesfromthevillageofLittleDunning.Shehadquiteareputationforwitchcraftthere.Itrunsinthefamily.Hermotherwasawitch,too.”
Shespokeinamatter-of-factway.
“Yousoundasthoughyoubelieveinwitchcraft,Mrs.DaneCalthrop,”Isaid.
“Butofcourse!There’snothingmysteriousorsecretiveaboutit.It’sallquitematter-of-fact.It’safamilyassetthatyouinherit.Childrenaretoldnottoteaseyourcat,andpeoplegiveyouacottagecheeseorapotofhomemadejamfromtimetotime.”
Ilookedatherdoubtfully.Sheappearedtobequiteserious.
“Sybilhelpedustodaybytellingfortunes,”saidRhoda.“Shewasinthegreentent.She’squitegoodatit,Ibelieve.”
“Shegavemealovelyfortune,”saidGinger.“Moneyinmyhand.Ahandsomedarkstrangerfromoverseas,twohusbandsandsixchildren.Reallyverygenerous.”
“IsawtheCurtisgirlcomeoutgiggling,”saidRhoda.“Andshewasverycoywithheryoungmanafterwards.Toldhimnottothinkhewastheonlypebbleonthebeach.”
“PoorTom,”saidherhusband.“Didhemakeanycomeback?”
“Oh,yes.‘I’mnottellingyouwhatshepromisedme,’hesaid.‘Mebbeyouwouldn’tlikeittoowell,mygirl!’”
“GoodforTom.”
“OldMrs.Parkerwasquitesour,”saidGinger,laughing.“‘’Tisallfoolishness,’that’swhatshesaid.‘Don’tyoubelievenoneofit,youtwo.’ButthenMrs.Crippspipedupandsaid,‘Youknow,Lizzie,aswellasIdo,thatMissStamfordisseesthingsasotherscan’tsee,andMissGreyknowstoadaywhenthere’sgoingtobeadeath.Neverwrong,sheis!Fairlygivesmethecreepssometimes.’AndMrs.Parkersaid:‘Death—that’sdifferent.It’sagift.’AndMrs.Crippssaid:‘AnywayIwouldn’tliketooffendnoneofthosethree,thatIwouldn’t!’”
“Itdoesallsoundexciting.I’dlovetomeetthem,”saidMrs.Oliverwistfully.
“We’lltakeyouovertheretomorrow,”ColonelDespardpromised.“Theoldinnisreallyworthseeing.They’vebeenverycleverinmakingitcomfortablewithoutspoilingitscharacter.”
“I’llringupThyrzatomorrowmorning,”saidRhoda.
ImustadmitthatIwenttobedwithaslightfeelingofdeflation.
ThePaleHorsewhichhadloomedinmymindasasymbolofsomethingunknownandsinisterhadturnedouttobenothingofthesort.
Unless,ofcourse,therewasanotherPaleHorsesomewhereelse?
IconsideredthatideauntilIfellasleep.
II
Therewasafeelingofrelaxationnextday,whichwasaSunday.Anafter-the-partyfeeling.Onthelawnthemarqueeandtentsflappedlimplyinadampbreeze,awaitingremovalbythecaterer’smenatearlydawnonthemorrow.OnMondaywewouldallsettoworktotakestockofwhatdamagehadbeendone,andclearthingsup.Today,Rhodahadwiselydecided,itwouldbebettertogooutasmuchaspossible.
Weallwenttochurch,andlistenedrespectfullytoMr.DaneCalthrop’sscholarlysermononatexttakenfromIsaiahwhichseemedtodeallesswithreligionthanwithPersianhistory.
“We’regoingtolunchwithMr.Venables,”explainedRhodaafterwards.“You’lllikehim,Mark.He’sreallyamostinterestingman.Beeneverywhereanddoneeverything.Knowsallsortsofout-of-the-waythings.HeboughtPriorsCourtaboutthreeyearsago.Andthethingshe’sdonetoitmusthavecosthimafortune.Hehadpolioandissemi-crippled,sohehastogoaboutinawheeledchair.It’sverysadforhimbecauseuptothenhewasagreattraveller,Ibelieve.Ofcoursehe’srollinginmoney,and,asIsay,he’sdoneupthehouseinawonderfulway—itwasanabsoluteruin,fallingtopieces.It’sfullofthemostgorgeousstuff.Thesaleroomsarehisprincipalinterestnowadays,Ibelieve.”
PriorsCourtwasonlyafewmilesaway.Wedrovethereandourhostcamewheelinghimselfalongthehalltomeetus.
“Niceofyoualltocome,”hesaidheartily.“Youmustbeexhaustedafteryesterday.Thewholethingwasagreatsuccess,Rhoda.”
Mr.Venableswasamanofaboutfifty,withathinhawklikefaceandabeakednosethatstoodoutfromitarrogantly.Heworeanopenwingcollarwhichgavehimafaintlyold-fashionedair.
Rhodamadeintroductions.
VenablessmiledatMrs.Oliver.
“Imetthisladyyesterdayinherprofessionalcapacity,”hesaid.“Sixofherbookswithsignatures.TakescareofsixpresentsforChristmas.Greatstuffyouwrite,Mrs.Oliver.Giveusmoreofit.Can’thavetoomuchofit.”HegrinnedatGinger.“Younearlylandedmewithaliveduck,youngwoman.”Thenheturnedtome.“IenjoyedyourarticleintheReviewlastmonth,”hesaid.
“Itwasawfullygoodofyoutocometoourfête,Mr.Venables,”saidRhoda.“Afterthatgenerouschequeyousentus,Ididn’treallyhopethatyou’dturnupinperson.”
“Oh,Ienjoythatkindofthing.PartofEnglishrurallife,isn’tit?IcamehomeclaspingamostterribleKewpiedollfromthehoopla,andhadasplendidbutunrealisticfutureprophesiedmebyOurSybil,alldressedupinatinselturbanwithaboutatonoffakeEgyptianbeadsslungoverhertorso.”
“GoodoldSybil,”saidColonelDespard.“We’regoingtheretoteawithThyrzathisafternoon.It’saninterestingoldplace.”
“ThePaleHorse?Yes.Iratherwishithadbeenleftasaninn.Ialwaysfeelthatthatplacehashadamysteriousandunusuallywickedpasthistory.Itcan’thavebeensmuggling;we’renotnearenoughtotheseaforthat.Aresortforhighwaymen,perhaps?Orrichtravellersspentthenightthereandwereneverseenagain.Itseems,somehow,rathertametohaveturneditintoadesirableresidenceforthreeoldmaids.”
“Oh—Ineverthinkofthemlikethat!”criedRhoda.“SybilStamfordis,perhaps—withhersarisandherscarabs,andalwaysseeingaurasroundpeople’sheads—sheisratherridiculous.Butthere’ssomethingreallyawe-inspiringaboutThyrza,don’tyouagree?Youfeelsheknowsjustwhatyou’rethinking.Shedoesn’ttalkabouthavingsecondsight—buteveryonesaysthatshehasgotit.”
“AndBella,farfrombeinganoldmaid,hasburiedtwohusbands,”addedColonelDespard.
“Isincerelybegherpardon,”saidVenables,laughing.
“Withsinisterinterpretationsofthedeathsfromtheneighbours,”addedDespard.“It’ssaidtheydispleasedher,sosheturnedhereyesonthem,andtheyslowlysickenedandpinedaway!”
“Ofcourse,Iforgot,sheisthelocalwitch?”
“SoMrs.DaneCalthropsays.”
“Interestingthing,witchcraft,”saidVenablesthoughtfully.“Allovertheworldyougetvariationsofit—IrememberwhenIwasinEastAfrica—”
Hetalkedeasily,andentertainingly,onthesubject.HespokeofmedicinemeninAfrica;oflittle-knowncultsinBorneo.Hepromisedthat,afterlunch,hewouldshowussomeWestAfricansorcerers’masks.
“There’severythinginthishouse,”declaredRhodawithalaugh.
“Ohwell—”heshruggedhisshoulders—“ifyoucan’tgoouttoeverything—theneverythingmustbemadetocometoyou.”
Justforamomenttherewasasuddenbitternessinhisvoice.Hegaveaswiftglancedownwardstowardshisparalysedlegs.
“‘Theworldissofullofanumberofthings,’”hequoted.“Ithinkthat’salwaysbeenmyundoing.There’ssomuchIwanttoknowabout—tosee!OhwellIhaven’tdonetoobadlyinmytime.Andevennow—lifehasitsconsolations.”
“Whyhere?”askedMrs.Oliversuddenly.
Theothershadbeenslightlyillatease,aspeoplebecomewhenahintoftragedyloomsintheair.Mrs.Oliveralonehadbeenunaffected.Sheaskedbecauseshewantedtoknow.Andherfrankcuriosityrestoredthelightheartedatmosphere.
Venableslookedtowardsherinquiringly
“Imean,”saidMrs.Oliver,“whydidyoucometolivehere,inthisneighbourhood?Sofarawayfromthingsthataregoingon.Wasitbecauseyouhadfriendshere?”
“No.Ichosethispartoftheworld,sinceyouareinterested,becauseIhadnofriendshere.”
Afaintironicalsmiletouchedhislips
Howdeeply,Iwondered,hadhisdisabilityaffectedhim?Hadthelossofunfetteredmovement,oflibertytoexploretheworld,bittendeepintohissoul?Orhadhemanagedtoadapthimselftoalteredcircumstanceswithcomparativeequanimity—witharealgreatnessofspirit?
AsthoughVenableshadreadmythoughts,hesaid:“Inyourarticleyouquestionedthemeaningoftheterm‘greatness’—youcomparedthedifferentmeaningsattachedtoit—intheEastandtheWest.Butwhatdoweallmeannowadays,hereinEngland,whenweusetheterm‘agreatman’?—”
“Greatnessofintellect,certainly,”Isaid,“andsurelymoralstrengthaswell?”
Helookedatme,hiseyesbrightandshining.
“Istherenosuchthingasanevilman,then,whocanbedescribedasgreat?”heasked.
“Ofcoursethereis,”criedRhoda.“NapoleonandHitlerandoh,lotsofpeople.Theywereallgreatmen.”
“Becauseoftheeffecttheyproduced?”saidDespard.“Butifonehadknownthempersonally—Iwonderifonewouldhavebeenimpressed.”
Gingerleanedforwardandranherfingersthroughhercarrotymopofhair.
“That’saninterestingthought,”shesaid.“Mightn’tthey,perhaps,haveseemedpathetic,undersizedlittlefigures.Strutting,posturing,feelinginadequate,determinedtobesomeone,eveniftheypulledtheworlddownroundthem?”
“Oh,no,”saidRhodavehemently.“Theycouldn’thaveproducedtheresultstheydidiftheyhadbeenlikethat.”
“Idon’tknow,”saidMrs.Oliver.“Afterall,thestupidestchildcansetahouseonfirequiteeasily.”
“Come,come,”saidVenables.“Ireallycan’tgoalongwiththismodernplayingdownofevilassomethingthatdoesn’treallyexist.Thereisevil.Andevilispowerful.Sometimesmorepowerfulthangood.It’sthere.Ithastoberecognised—andfought.Otherwise—”hespreadouthishands.“Wegodowntodarkness.”
“OfcourseIwasbroughtuponthedevil,”saidMrs.Oliver,apologetically.“Believinginhim,Imean.Butyouknowhealwaysdidseemtomesosilly.Withhoofsandatailandallthat.Caperingaboutlikeahamactor.OfcourseIoftenhaveamastercriminalinmystories—peoplelikeit—butreallyhegetsharderandhardertodo.Solongasonedoesn’tknowwhoheis,Icankeephimimpressive—butwhenitallcomesout—heseems,somehow,soinadequate.Akindofanticlimax.It’smucheasierifyoujusthaveabankmanagerwho’sembezzledthefunds,orahusbandwhowantstogetridofhiswifeandmarrythechildren’sgoverness.Somuchmorenatural—ifyouknowwhatImean.”
EveryonelaughedandMrs.Oliversaidapologetically:
“IknowIhaven’tputitverywell—butyoudoseewhatImean?”
Weallsaidthatweknewexactlywhatshemeant.
Six
MarkEasterbrook’sNarrative
Itwasafterfouro’clockwhenweleftPriorsCourt.Afteraparticularlydeliciouslunch,Venableshadtakenusonatourofthehouse.Hehadtakenarealpleasureinshowingushisvariouspossessions—averitabletreasure-housetheplacewas.
“Hemustberollinginmoney,”Isaidwhenwehadfinallydeparted.“Thosejades—andtheAfricansculpture—tosaynothingofallhisMeissenandBow.You’reluckytohavesuchaneighbour.”
“Don’tweknowit?”saidRhoda.“Mostofthepeopledownhereareniceenough—butdefinitelyonthedullside.Mr.Venablesispositivelyexoticbycomparison.”
“Howdidhemakehismoney?”askedMrs.Oliver.“Orhashealwayshadit?”
Despardremarkedwrylythatnobodynowadayscouldboastofsuchathingasalargeinheritedincome.Deathdutiesandtaxationhadseentothat.
“Someonetoldme,”headded,“thathestartedlifeasastevedorebutitseemsmostunlikely.Henevertalksabouthisboyhoodorhisfamily—”HeturnedtowardsMrs.Oliver.“AMysteryManforyou—”
Mrs.Oliversaidthatpeoplewerealwaysofferingherthingsshedidn’twant—
ThePaleHorsewasahalf-timberedbuilding(genuinehalftimberingnotfaked).Itwassetbackalittlewayfromthevillagestreet.Awalledgardencouldbeglimpsedbehinditwhichgaveitapleasantold-worldlook.
Iwasdisappointedinit,andsaidso.
“Notnearlysinisterenough,”Icomplained.“Noatmosphere.”
“Waittillyougetinside,”saidGinger.
Wegotoutofthecarandwentuptothedoor,whichopenedasweapproached.
MissThyrzaGreystoodonthethreshold,atall,slightlymasculinefigureinatweedcoatandskirt.Shehadroughgreyhairspringingupfromahighforehead,alargebeakofanose,andverypenetratinglightblueeyes.
“Hereyouareatlast,”shesaidinaheartybassvoice.“Thoughtyou’dallgotlost.”
Behindhertweed-cladshouldersIbecameawareofafacepeeringoutfromtheshadowsofthedarkhall.Aqueer,ratherformlessface,likesomethingmadeinputtybyachildwhohadstrayedintoplayinasculptor’sstudio.Itwasthekindofface,Ithought,thatyousometimesseeamongstacrowdinanItalianorFlemishprimitivepainting.
RhodaintroducedusandexplainedthatwehadbeenlunchingwithMr.VenablesatPriorsCourt.
“Ah!”saidMissGrey.“Thatexplainsit!Fleshpots.ThatItaliancookofhis!Andallthetreasuresofthetreasure-houseaswell.Ohwell,poorfellow—gottohavesomethingtocheerhimup.Butcomein—comein.We’reratherproudofourownlittleplace.Fifteenthcentury—andsomeofitfourteenth.”
Thehallwaslowanddarkwithatwistingstaircaseleadingupfromit.Therewasawidefireplaceandoveritaframedpicture.
“Theoldinnsign,”saidMissGrey,notingmyglance.“Can’tseemuchofitinthislight.ThePaleHorse.”
“I’mgoingtocleanitforyou,”saidGinger.“IsaidIwould.Youletmehaveitandyou’llbesurprised.”
“I’mabitdoubtful,”saidThyrzaGrey,andaddedbluntly,“Supposeyouruinit?”
“OfcourseIshan’truinit,”saidGingerindignantly.“It’smyjob.”
“IworkfortheLondonGalleries,”sheexplainedtome.“Greatfun.”
“Modernpicturerestoringtakesabitofgettingusedto,”saidThyrza.“IgaspeverytimeIgointotheNationalGallerynowadays.Allthepictureslookasthoughthey’dhadabathinthelatestdetergent.”
“Youcan’treallypreferthemalldarkandmustardcoloured,”protestedGinger.Shepeeredattheinnsign.“Alotmorewouldcomeup.Thehorsemayevenhavearider.”
Ijoinedhertostareintothepicture.Itwasacrudepaintingwithlittlemeritexceptthedoubtfuloneofoldageanddirt.Thepalefigureofastalliongleamedagainstadarkindeterminatebackground.
“Hi,Sybil,”criedThyrza.“ThevisitorsarecrabbingourHorse,damntheirimpertinence!”
MissSybilStamfordiscamethroughadoortojoinus.
Shewasatallwillowywomanwithdark,rathergreasyhair,asimperingexpression,andafish-likemouth.
Shewaswearingabrightemeraldgreensariwhichdidnothingtoenhanceherappearance.Hervoicewasfaintandfluttery.
“Ourdear,dearHorse,”shesaid.“Wefellinlovewiththatoldinnsignthemomentwesawit.Ireallythinkitinfluencedustobuythehouse.Don’tyou,Thyrza?Butcomein—comein.”
Theroomintowhichsheleduswassmallandsquareandhadprobablybeenthebarinitstime.ItwasfurnishednowwithchintzandChippendaleandwasdefinitelyalady’ssittingroom,countrystyle.Therewerebowlsofchrysanthemums.
ThenweweretakenouttoseethegardenwhichIcouldseewouldbecharminginsummer,andthencamebackintothehousetofindteahadbeenlaid.Thereweresandwichesandhomemadecakesandaswesatdown,theoldwomanwhosefaceIhadglimpsedforamomentinthehallcameinbearingasilverteapot.Sheworeaplaindarkgreenoverall.TheimpressionofaheadmadecrudelyfromPlasticinebyachildwasborneoutoncloserinspection.IthadawitlessprimitivefacebutIcouldnotimaginewhyIhadthoughtitsinister.
SuddenlyIfeltangrywithmyself.Allthisnonsenseaboutaconvertedinnandthreemiddle-agedwomen!
“Thankyou,Bella,”saidThyrza.
“Gotallyouwant?”
Itcameoutalmostasamumble.
“Yes,thanks.”
Bellawithdrewtothedoor.Shehadlookedatnobody,butjustbeforeshewentout,sheraisedhereyesandtookaspeedyglanceatme.Therewassomethinginthatlookthatstartledme—thoughitwasdifficulttodescribewhy.Therewasmaliceinit,andacuriousintimateknowledge.Ifeltthatwithouteffort,andalmostwithoutcuriosity,shehadknownexactlywhatthoughtswereinmymind.
ThyrzaGreyhadnoticedmyreaction.
“Bellaisdisconcerting,isn’tshe,Mr.Easterbrook?”shesaidsoftly.“Inoticedherlookatyou.”
“She’salocalwoman,isn’tshe?”Istrovetoappearmerelypolitelyinterested.
“Yes.Idaresaysomeonewillhavetoldyoushe’sthelocalwitch.”
SybilStamfordisclankedherbeads.
“Nowdoconfess,Mr.—Mr.—”
“Easterbrook.”
“Easterbrook.I’msureyou’veheardthatweallpracticewitchcraft.Confessnow.We’vegotquiteareputation,youknow—”
“Notundeserved,perhaps,”saidThyrza.Sheseemedamused.“Sybilherehasgreatgifts.”
Sybilsighedpleasurably.
“Iwasalwaysattractedbytheoccult,”shemurmured.“EvenasachildIrealisedthatIhadunusualpowers.Automaticwritingcametomequitenaturally.Ididn’tevenknowwhatitwas!I’djustsittherewithapencilinmyhand—andnotknowathingaboutwhatwashappening.AndofcourseIwasalwaysultrasensitive.Ifaintedoncewhentakentoteainafriend’shouse.Somethingawfulhadhappenedinthatveryroom…Iknewit!Wegottheexplanationlater.Therehadbeenamurderthere—twenty-fiveyearsago.Inthatveryroom!”
Shenoddedherheadandlookedroundatuswithgreatsatisfaction.
“Veryremarkable,”saidColonelDespardwithpolitedistaste.
“Sinisterthingshavehappenedinthishouse,”saidSybildarkly.“Butwehavetakenthenecessarysteps.Theearthboundspiritshavebeenfreed.”
“Akindofspiritualspringcleaning?”Isuggested.
Sybillookedatmeratherdoubtfully.
“Whatalovelycolouredsariyouarewearing,”saidRhoda.
Sybilbrightened.
“Yes,IgotitwhenIwasinIndia.Ihadaninterestingtimethere.Iexploredyoga,youknow,andallthat.ButIcouldnothelpfeelingthatitwasalltoosophisticated—notnearenoughtothenaturalandtheprimitive.Onemustgoback,Ifeel,tothebeginnings,totheearlyprimitivepowers.IamoneofthefewwomenwhohavevisitedHaiti.Nowthereyoureallydotouchtheoriginalspringsoftheoccult.Overlaid,ofcourse,byacertainamountofcorruptionanddistortion.Buttherootofthematteristhere.
“Iwasshownagreatdeal,especiallywhentheylearntthatIhadtwinsistersalittleolderthanmyself.Thechildwhoisbornnextaftertwinshasspecialpowers,sotheytoldme.Interesting,wasn’tit?Theirdeathdancesarewonderful.Allthepanoplyofdeath,skullsandcrossbones,andthetoolsofagravedigger,spade,pickandhoe.Theydressupasundertakers’mutes,tophats,blackclothes—
“TheGrandMasterisBaronSamedi,andtheLegbaisthegodheinvokes,thegodwho‘removesthebarrier.’Yousendthedeadforth—tocausedeath.Weirdidea,isn’tit?
“Nowthis,”Sybilroseandfetchedanobjectfromthewindowsill.“ThisismyAsson.It’sadriedgourdwithanetworkofbeadsand—youseethesebits?—driedsnakevertebrae.”
Welookedpolitely,thoughwithoutenthusiasm.
Sybilrattledherhorridtoyaffectionately.
“Veryinteresting,”saidDespardcourteously.
“Icouldtellyoulotsmore—”
Atthispointmyattentionwandered.WordscametomehazilyasSybilcontinuedtoairherknowledgeofsorceryandvoodoo—Ma?treCarrefour,theCoa,theGuidéfamily—
IturnedmyheadtofindThyrzalookingatmequizzically.
“Youdon’tbelieveanyofit,doyou?”shemurmured.“Butyou’rewrong,youknow.Youcan’texplainawayeverythingassuperstition,orfear,orreligiousbigotry.Thereareelementaltruthsandelementalpowers.Therealwayshavebeen.Therealwayswillbe.”
“Idon’tthinkIwoulddisputethat,”Isaid.
“Wiseman.Comeandseemylibrary.”
Ifollowedheroutthroughthefrenchwindowsintothegardenandalongthesideofthehouse.
“Wemadeitoutoftheoldstables,”sheexplained.
Thestablesandoutbuildingshadbeenreconstitutedasonelargeroom.Thewholeofonelongwallwaslinedwithbooks.Iwentacrosstothemandwaspresentlyexclaiming.
“You’vegotsomeveryrareworkshere,MissGrey.IsthisanoriginalMalleusMaleficorum?Myword,youhavesometreasures.”
“Ihave,haven’tI?”
“ThatGrimoire—veryrareindeed.”Itookdownvolumeaftervolumefromtheshelves.Thyrzawatchedme—therewasanairofquietsatisfactionaboutherwhichIdidnotunderstand.
IputbackSadducismusTriumphatusasThyrzasaid:
“It’snicetomeetsomeonewhocanappreciateone’streasures.Mostpeoplejustyawnorgape.”
“Therecan’tbemuchaboutthepracticeofwitchcraft,sorcery,andalltherestofitthatyoudon’tknow,”Isaid.“Whatgaveyouaninterestinitinthefirstplace?”
“Hardtosaynow…It’sbeensolong…Onelooksintoathingidly—andthen—onegetsgripped!It’safascinatingstudy.Thethingspeoplebelieved—andthedamn’foolthingstheydid!”
Ilaughed.
“That’srefreshing.I’mgladyoudon’tbelieveallyouread.”
“Youmustn’tjudgemebypoorSybil.Ohyes,Isawyoulookingsuperior!Butyouwerewrong.She’sasillywomaninalotofways.Shetakesvoodoo,anddemonology,andblackmagicandmixeseverythingupintoagloriousoccultpie—butshehasthepower.”
“Thepower?”
“Idon’tknowwhatelseyoucancallit…Therearepeoplewhocanbecomealivingbridgebetweenthisworldandaworldofstrangeuncannypowers.Sybilisoneofthem.Sheisafirst-classmedium.Shehasneverdoneitformoney.Buthergiftisquiteexceptional.WhensheandIandBella—”
“Bella?”
“Ohyes.Bellahasherownpowers.Weallhave,inourdifferentdegrees.Asateam—”
Shebrokeoff.
“SorcerersLtd?”Isuggestedwithasmile.
“Onecouldputitthatway.”
IglanceddownatthevolumeIwasholdinginmyhand.
“Nostradamusandallthat?”
“Nostradamusandallthat.”
Isaidquietly:“Youdobelieveit,don’tyou?”
“Idon’tbelieve.Iknow.”
Shespoketriumphantly—Ilookedather.
“Buthow?Inwhatway?Forwhatreason?”
Shesweptherhandouttowardsthebookshelves—
“Allthat!Somuchofitnonsense!Suchgrandridiculousphraseology!Butsweepawaythesuperstitionsandtheprejudicesofthetimes—andthecoreistruth!Youonlydressitup—it’salwaysbeendressedup—toimpresspeople.”
“I’mnotsureIfollowyou.”
“Mydearman,whyhavepeoplecomethroughouttheagestothenecromancer—tothesorcerer—tothewitchdoctor?Onlytworeasonsreally.Thereareonlytwothingsthatarewantedbadlyenoughtoriskdamnation.Thelovepotionorthecupofpoison.”
“Ah.”
“Sosimple,isn’tit?Love—anddeath.Thelovepotion—towinthemanyouwant—theblackmass—tokeepyourlover.Adraughttobetakenatthefullofthemoon.Recitethenamesofdevilsorofspirits.Drawpatternsonthefloororonthewall.Allthat’swindowdressing.Thetruthistheaphrodisiacinthedraught!”
“Anddeath?”Iasked.
“Death?”Shelaughed,aqueerlittlelaughthatmademeuncomfortable.“Areyousointerestedindeath?”
“Whoisn’t?”Isaidlightly.
“Iwonder.”Sheshotmeaglance,keen,searching.Ittookmeaback.
“Death.There’salwaysbeenagreatertradeinthatthanthereeverhasbeeninlovepotions.Andyet—howchildishitallwasinthepast!TheBorgiasandtheirfamoussecretpoisons.Doyouknowwhattheyreallyused?Ordinarywhitearsenic!Justthesameasanylittlewifepoisonerinthebackstreets.Butwe’veprogressedalongwaybeyondthatnowadays.Sciencehasenlargedourfrontiers.”
“Withuntraceablepoisons?”Myvoicewassceptical.
“Poisons!That’svieuxjeu.Childishstuff.Therearenewhorizons.”
“Suchas?”
“Themind.Knowledgeofwhatthemindis—whatitcando—whatitcanbemadetodo.”
“Pleasegoon.Thisismostinteresting.”
“Theprincipleiswellknown.Medicinemenhaveuseditinprimitivecommunitiesforcenturies.Youdon’tneedtokillyourvictim.Allyouneeddois—tellhimtodie.”
“Suggestion?Butitwon’tworkunlessthevictimbelievesinit.”
“Itdoesn’tworkonEuropeans,youmean,”shecorrectedme.“Itdoessometimes.Butthat’snotthepoint.We’vegonefurtheraheadthanthewitchdoctorhasevergone.Thepsychologistshaveshowntheway.Thedesirefordeath!It’sthere—ineveryone.Workonthat!Workonthedeathwish.”
“It’saninterestingidea.”Ispokewithamutedscientificinterest.“Influenceyoursubjecttocommitsuicide?Isthatit?”
“You’restilllaggingbehind.You’veheardoftraumaticillnesses?”
“Ofcourse.”
“Peoplewho,becauseofanunconsciouswishtoavoidreturningtowork,developrealailments.Notmalingering—realillnesseswithsymptoms,withactualpain.It’sbeenapuzzletodoctorsforalongtime.”
“I’mbeginningtogetthehangofwhatyoumean,”Isaidslowly.
“Todestroyyoursubject,powermustbeexertedonhissecretunconsciousself.Thedeathwishthatexistsinallofusmustbestimulated,heightened.”Herexcitementwasgrowing.“Don’tyousee?Arealillnesswillbeinduced,causedbythatdeathseekingself.Youwishtobeill,youwishtodie—andso—youdogetill,anddie.”
Shehadflungherheadupnow,triumphantly.Ifeltsuddenlyverycold.Allnonsense,ofcourse.Thiswomanwasslightlymad…Andyet—
ThyrzaGreylaughedsuddenly.
“Youdon’tbelieveme,doyou?”
“It’safascinatingtheory,MissGrey—quiteinlinewithmodernthought,I’lladmit.Buthowdoyouproposetostimulatethisdeathwishthatweallpossess?”
“That’smysecret.Theway!Themeans!Therearecommunicationswithoutcontact.You’veonlytothinkofwireless,radar,television.Experimentsinextrasensoryperceptionhaven’tgoneaheadaspeoplehoped,butthat’sbecausetheyhaven’tgraspedthefirstsimpleprinciple.Youcanaccomplishitsometimesbyaccident—butonceyouknowhowitworks,youcoulddoiteverytime….”
“Canyoudoit?”
Shedidn’tansweratonce—thenshesaid,movingaway:
“Youmustn’taskme,Mr.Easterbrook,togiveallmysecretsaway.”
Ifollowedhertowardsthegardendoor—
“Whyhaveyoutoldmeallthis?”Iasked.
“Youunderstandmybooks.Oneneedssometimesto—to—well—talktosomeone.Andbesides—”
“Yes?”
“Ihadtheidea—Bellahasit,too—thatyou—mayneedus.”
“Needyou?”
“Bellathinksyoucamehere—tofindus.Sheisseldomatfault.”
“WhyshouldIwantto—‘findyou,’asyouputit?”
“That,”saidThyrzaGreysoftly,“Idonotknow—yet.”
Seven
MarkEasterbrook’sNarrative
I
“Sothereyouare!Wewonderedwhereyouwere.”Rhodacamethroughtheopendoor,theothersbehindher.Shelookedroundher.“Thisiswhereyouholdyourséances,isn’tit?”
“You’rewellinformed,”ThyrzaGreylaughedbreezily.“Inavillageeveryoneknowsyourbusinessbetterthanyoudo.We’veasplendidsinisterreputation,soI’veheard.Ahundredyearsagoitwouldhavebeensinkorswimorthefuneralpyre.Mygreat-great-aunt—oroneortwomoregreats—wasburnedasawitch,Ibelieve,inIreland.Thosewerethedays!”
“IalwaysthoughtyouwereScottish?”
“Onmyfather’sside—hencethesecondsight.Irishonmymother’s.Sybilisourpythoness,originallyofGreekextraction.BellarepresentsOldEnglish.”
“Amacabrehumancocktail,”remarkedColonelDespard.
“Asyousay.”
“Fun!”saidGinger.
Thyrzashotheraquickglance.
“Yes,itisinaway.”SheturnedtoMrs.Oliver.“Youshouldwriteoneofyourbooksaboutamurderbyblackmagic.Icangiveyoualotofdopeaboutit.”
Mrs.Oliverblinkedandlookedembarrassed.
“Ionlywriteveryplainmurders,”shesaidapologetically.
Hertonewasofonewhosays“Ionlydoplaincooking.”
“Justaboutpeoplewhowantotherpeopleoutofthewayandtrytobecleveraboutit,”sheadded.
“They’reusuallytoocleverforme,”saidColonelDespard.Heglancedathiswatch.“Rhoda,Ithink—”
“Ohyes,wemustgo.It’smuchlaterthanIthought.”
Thanksandgood-byesweresaid.Wedidnotgobackthroughthehousebutroundtoasidegate.
“Youkeepalotofpoultry,”remarkedColonelDespard,lookingintoawiredenclosure.
“Ihatehens,”saidGinger.“Theycluckinsuchanirritatingway.”
“Mostlycockerelstheybe.”ItwasBellawhospoke.Shehadcomeoutfromabackdoor.
“Whitecockerels,”Isaid.
“Tablebirds?”askedDespard.
Bellasaid,“They’musefultous.”
Hermouthwidenedinalongcurvinglineacrossthepudgyshapelessnessofherface.Hereyeshadaslyknowinglook.
“They’reBella’sprovince,”saidThyrzaGreylightly.
Wesaidgood-byeandSybilStamfordisappearedfromtheopenfrontdoortojoininspeedingthepartingguests.
“Idon’tlikethatwoman,”saidMrs.Oliver,aswedroveoff.“Idon’tlikeheratall.”
“Youmustn’ttakeoldThyrzatooseriously,”saidDespardindulgently.“Sheenjoysspoutingallthatstuffandseeingwhateffectithasonyou.”
“Ididn’tmeanher.She’sanunscrupulouswoman,withakeeneyeonthemainchance.Butshe’snotdangerousliketheotherone.”
“Bella?Sheisabituncanny,I’lladmit.”
“Ididn’tmeanhereither.ImeanttheSybilone.Sheseemsjustsilly.Allthosebeadsanddraperiesandallthestuffaboutvoodoo,andallthosefantasticreincarnationsshewastellingusabout.(Whyisitthatanybodywhowasakitchenmaidoranuglyoldpeasantneverseemstogetreincarnated?It’salwaysEgyptianPrincessesorbeautifulBabylonianslaves.Veryfishy.)Butallthesame,thoughshe’sdothings—makequeerthingshappen.Ialwaysputthingsbadly—butImeanshecouldbeused—bysomething—inawayjustbecausesheissosilly.Idon’tsupposeanyoneunderstandswhatImean,”shefinishedpathetically.
“Ido,”saidGinger.“AndIshouldn’twonderifyouweren’tright.”
“Wereallyoughttogotooneoftheirséances,”saidRhodawistfully.“Itmightberatherfun.”
“No,youdon’t,”saidDespardfirmly.“I’mnothavingyougettingmixedupinanythingofthatsort.”
Theyfellintoalaughingargument.IrousedmyselfonlywhenIheardMrs.Oliveraskingabouttrainsthenextmorning.
“Youcandrivebackwithme,”Isaid.
Mrs.Oliverlookeddoubtful.
“IthinkI’dbettergobytrain—”
“Oh,comenow.You’vedrivenwithmebefore.I’mamostreliabledriver.”
“It’snotthat,Mark.ButI’vegottogotoafuneraltomorrow.SoImustn’tbelateingettingbacktotown.”Shesighed.“Idohategoingtofunerals.”
“Mustyou?”
“IthinkImustinthiscase.MaryDelafontainewasaveryoldfriend—andIthinkshe’dwantmetogo.Shewasthatsortofperson.”
“Ofcourse,”Iexclaimed.“Delafontaine—ofcourse.”
Theothersstaredatme,surprised.
“Sorry,”Isaid.“It’sonly—that—well,IwaswonderingwhereI’dheardthenameDelafontainelately.Itwasyou,wasn’tit?”IlookedatMrs.Oliver.“Yousaidsomethingaboutvisitingher—inanursinghome.”
“DidI?Quitelikely.”
“Whatdidshedieof?”
Mrs.Oliverwrinkledherforehead.
“Toxicpolyneuritis—somethinglikethat.”
Gingerwaslookingatmecuriously.Shehadasharppenetratingglance.
Aswegotoutofthecar,Isaidabruptly:
“IthinkI’llgoforabitofawalk.Suchalotoffood.Thatwonderfullunchandteaontopofit.It’sgottobeworkedoffsomehow.”
Iwentoffbrisklybeforeanyonecouldoffertoaccompanyme.Iwantedbadlytogetbymyselfandsortoutmyideas.
Whatwasallthisbusiness?Letmeatleastgetitcleartomyself.Ithadstarted,haditnot,withthatcasualbutstartlingremarkbyPoppy,thatifyouwantedto“getridofsomeone”thePaleHorsewastheplacetogo.
Followingonthat,therehadbeenmymeetingwithJimCorrigan,andhislistof“names”—asconnectedwiththedeathofFatherGorman.OnthatlisthadbeenthenameofHesketh-Dubois,andthenameofTuckerton,causingmetoharkbacktothateveningatLuigi’scoffeebar.TherehadbeenthenameofDelafontaine,too,vaguelyfamiliar.ItwasMrs.Oliverwhohadmentionedit,inconnectionwithasickfriend.Thesickfriendwasnowdead.
Afterthat,Ihad,forsomereasonwhichIcouldn’tquiteidentify,gonetobeardPoppyinherfloralbower.AndPoppyhaddeniedvehementlyanyknowledgeofsuchaninstitutionasthePaleHorse.Moresignificantstill,Poppyhadbeenafraid.
Today—therehadbeenThyrzaGrey.
ButsurelythePaleHorseanditsoccupantswasonethingandthatlistofnamessomethingseparate,quiteunconnected.WhyonearthwasIcouplingthemtogetherinmymind?
WhyshouldIimagineforonemomentthattherewasanyconnectionbetweenthem?
Mrs.DelafontainehadpresumablylivedinLondon.ThomasinaTuckerton’shomehadbeensomewhereinSurrey.NooneonthelisthadanyconnectionwiththelittlevillageofMuchDeeping.Unless—
IwasjustcomingabreastoftheKing’sArms.TheKing’sArmswasagenuinepubwithasuperiorlookaboutitandafreshlypaintedannouncementofLunches,DinnersandTeas.
Ipusheditsdooropenandwentinside.Thebar,notyetopen,wasonmyleft,onmyrightwasaminuteloungesmellingofstalesmoke.Bythestairswasanotice:Office.Theofficeconsistedofaglasswindow,firmlyclosedandaprintedcard.PRESSBELL.Thewholeplacehadthedesertedairofapubatthisparticulartimeofday.Onashelfbytheofficewindowwasabatteredregistrationbookforvisitors.Iopeneditandflickedthroughthepages.Itwasnotmuchpatronised.Therewerefiveorsixentries,perhaps,inaweek,mostlyforonenightonly.Iflickedbackthepages,notingthenames.
ItwasnotlongbeforeIshutthebook.Therewasstillnooneabout.TherewerereallynoquestionsIwantedtoaskatthisstage.Iwentoutagainintothesoftdampafternoon.
WasitonlycoincidencethatsomeonecalledSandfordandsomeoneelsecalledParkinsonhadstayedattheKing’sArmsduringthelastyear?BothnameswereonCorrigan’slist.Yes,buttheywerenotparticularlyuncommonnames.ButIhadnotedoneothername—thenameofMartinDigby.IfitwastheMartinDigbyIknew,hewasthegreat-nephewofthewomanIhadalwayscalledAuntMin—LadyHesketh-Dubois.
Istrodealong,notseeingwhereIwasgoing.Iwantedverybadlytotalktosomeone.ToJimCorrigan.OrtoDavidArdingly.OrtoHermiawithhercalmgoodsense.IwasalonewithmychaoticthoughtsandIdidn’twanttobealone.WhatIwanted,frankly,wassomeonewhowouldarguemeoutofthethingsthatIwasthinking.
ItwasafterabouthalfanhouroftrampingmuddylanesthatIfinallyturnedinatthegatesofthevicarage,andmademywayupasingularlyill-keptdrive,topullarustylookingbellatthesideofthefrontdoor.
II
“Itdoesn’tring,”saidMrs.DaneCalthrop,appearingatthedoorwiththeunexpectednessofagenie.
Ihadalreadysuspectedthatfact.
“They’vemendedittwice,”saidMrs.DaneCalthrop.“Butitneverlasts.SoIhavetokeepalert.Incaseit’ssomethingimportant.It’simportantwithyou,isn’tit?”
“It—well—yes,itisimportant—tome,Imean.”
“That’swhatImeant,too…”Shelookedatmethoughtfully.“Yes,it’squitebad,Icansee—Whodoyouwant?Thevicar?”
“I—I’mnotsure—”
IthadbeenthevicarIcametosee—butnow,unexpectedly,Iwasdoubtful.Ididn’tquiteknowwhy.ButimmediatelyMrs.DaneCalthroptoldme.
“Myhusband’saverygoodman,”shesaid.“Besidesbeingthevicar,Imean.Andthatmakesthingsdifficultsometimes.Goodpeople,yousee,don’treallyunderstandevil.”Shepausedandthensaidwithakindofbriskefficiency,“Ithinkithadbetterbeme.”
Afaintsmilecametomylips.“Isevilyourdepartment?”Iasked.
“Yes,itis.It’simportantinaparishtoknowallaboutthevarious—well—sinsthataregoingon.”
“Isn’tsinyourhusband’sprovince?Hisofficialbusiness,sotospeak.”
“Theforgivenessofsins,”shecorrectedme.“Hecangiveabsolution.Ican’t.ButI,”saidMrs.DaneCalthropwiththeutmostcheerfulness,“cangetsinarrangedandclassifiedforhim.Andifoneknowsaboutitonecanhelptopreventitsharmingotherpeople.Onecan’thelpthepeoplethemselves.Ican’t,Imean.OnlyGodcancalltorepentance,youknow—orperhapsyoudon’tknow.Alotofpeopledon’tnowadays.”
“Ican’tcompetewithyourexpertknowledge,”Isaid,“butIwouldliketopreventpeoplebeing—harmed.”
Sheshotmeaquickglance.
“It’slikethat,isit?You’dbettercomeinandwe’llbecomfortable.”
Thevicaragesittingroomwasbigandshabby.ItwasmuchshadedbyagargantuanVictorianshrubberythatnooneseemedtohavehadtheenergytocurb.Butthedimnesswasnotgloomyforsomepeculiarreason.Itwas,onthecontrary,restful.Allthelargeshabbychairsboretheimpressofrestingbodiesinthemovertheyears.Afatclockonthechimneypiecetickedwithaheavycomfortableregularity.Heretherewouldalwaysbetimetotalk,tosaywhatyouwantedtosay,torelaxfromthecaresbroughtaboutbythebrightdayoutside.
Here,Ifelt,round-eyedgirlswhohadtearfullydiscoveredthemselvestobeprospectivemothers,hadconfidedtheirtroublestoMrs.DaneCalthropandreceivedsound,ifnotalwaysorthodox,advice;hereangryrelativeshadunburdenedthemselvesoftheirresentmentovertheirin-laws;heremothershadexplainedthattheirBobwasnotabadboy;justhigh-spirited,andthattosendhimawaytoanapprovedschoolwasabsurd.Husbandsandwiveshaddisclosedmaritaldifficulties.
AndherewasI,MarkEasterbrook,scholar,author,manoftheworld,confrontingagrey-hairedweather-beatenwomanwithfineeyes,preparedtolaymytroublesinherlap.Why?Ididn’tknow.Ionlyhadthatoddsuretythatshewastherightperson.
“We’vejusthadteawithThyrzaGrey,”Ibegan.
ExplainingthingstoMrs.DaneCalthropwasneverdifficult.Sheleapedtomeetyou.
“OhIsee.It’supsetyou?Thesethreeareabitmuchtotake,Iagree.I’vewonderedmyself…Somuchboasting.Asarule,inmyexperience,thereallywickeddon’tboast.Theycankeepquietabouttheirwickedness.It’sifyoursinsaren’treallybadthatyouwantsomuchtotalkaboutthem.Sin’ssuchawretched,mean,ignoblelittlething.It’sterriblynecessarytomakeitseemgrandandimportant.Villagewitchesareusuallysillyill-naturedoldwomenwholikefrighteningpeopleandgettingsomethingfornothingthatway.Terriblyeasytodo,ofcourse.WhenMrs.Brown’shensdieallyouhavetodoisnodyourheadandsaydarkly:‘Ah,herBillyteasedmyPussylastTuesdayweek.’BellaWebbmight,beonlyawitchofthatkind.Butshemight,shejustmight,besomethingmore…Somethingthat’slastedonfromaveryearlyageandwhichcropsupnowandthenincountryplaces.It’sfrighteningwhenitdoes,becausethere’srealmalevolence—notjustadesiretoimpress.SybilStamfordisisoneofthesilliestwomenI’veevermet—butshereallyisamedium—whateveramediummaybe.Thyrza—Idon’tknow…Whatdidshesaytoyou?Itwassomethingthatshesaidthat’supsetyou,Isuppose?”
“Youhavegreatexperience,Mrs.DaneCalthrop.Wouldyousay,fromallyouknowandhaveheard,thatahumanbeingcouldbedestroyedfromadistance,withoutvisibleconnection,byanotherhumanbeing?”
Mrs.DaneCalthrop’seyesopenedalittlewider.
“Whenyousaydestroyed,youmean,Itakeit,killed?Aplainphysicalfact?”
“Yes.”
“Ishouldsayitwasnonsense,”saidMrs.DaneCalthroprobustly.
“Ah!”Isaid,relieved.
“ButofcourseImightbewrong,”saidMrs.DaneCalthrop.“Myfathersaidthatairshipswerenonsense,andmygreat-grandfatherprobablysaidthatrailwaytrainswerenonsense.Theywerebothquiteright.Atthattimetheybothwereimpossible.Butthey’renotimpossiblenow.WhatdoesThyrzado,activateadeathrayorsomething?Ordotheyallthreedrawpentagramsandwish?”
Ismiled.
“You’remakingthingscomeintofocus,”Isaid.“Imusthaveletthatwomanhypnotiseme.”
“Ohno,”saidMrs.DaneCalthrop.“Youwouldn’tdothat.You’renotreallythesuggestibletype.Theremusthavebeensomethingelse.Somethingthathappenedfirst.Beforeallthis.”
“You’requiteright.”Itoldher,then,assimplyasIcouldwithaneconomyofwords,ofthemurderofFatherGorman,andofthecasualmentioninthenightclubofthePaleHorse.ThenItookfrommypocketthelistofnamesIhadcopiedfromthepaperDr.Corriganhadshownme.
Mrs.DaneCalthroplookeddownatit,frowning.
“Isee,”shesaid.“Andthesepeople?Whathavetheyallincommon?”
“We’renotsure.Itmightbeblackmail—ordope—”
“Nonsense,”saidMrs.DaneCalthrop.“That’snotwhat’sworryingyou.Whatyoureallybelieveis—thatthey’realldead?”
Igaveadeepsigh.
“Yes,”Isaid.“That’swhatIbelieve.ButIdon’treallyknowthatthatisso.Threeofthemaredead.MinnieHesketh-Dubois,ThomasinaTuckerton,MaryDelafontaine.Allthreediedintheirbedsfromnaturalcauses.WhichiswhatThyrzaGreyclaimswouldhappen.”
“Youmeansheclaimsshemadeithappen?”
“No,no.Shewasn’tspeakingofanyactualpeople.Shewasexpoundingwhatshebelievestobeascientificpossibility.”
“Whichappearsonthefaceofittobenonsense,”saidMrs.DaneCalthropthoughtfully.
“Iknow.Iwouldjusthavebeenpoliteaboutitandlaughedtomyself,ifithadn’tbeenforthatcuriousmentionofthePaleHorse.”
“Yes,”saidMrs.DaneCalthropmusingly.“ThePaleHorse.That’ssuggestive.”
Shewassilentamoment.Thensheraisedherhead.
“It’sbad,”shesaid.“It’sverybad.Whateverisbehindit,it’sgottobestopped.Butyouknowthat.”
“Wellyes…Butwhatcanonedo?”
“Thatyou’llhavetofindout.Butthere’snotimetobelost.”Mrs.DaneCalthroprosetoherfeet,awhirlwindofactivity.“Youmustgetdowntoit—atonce.”Sheconsidered.“Haven’tyougotsomefriendwhocouldhelpyou?”
Ithought.JimCorrigan?Abusymanwithlittletime,andalreadyprobablydoingallhecould.DavidArdingly—butwouldDavidbelieveaword?Hermia?Yes,therewasHermia.Aclearbrain,admirablelogic.Atowerofstrengthifshecouldbepersuadedtobecomeanally.Afterall,sheandI—Ididnotfinishthesentence.Hermiawasmysteady—Hermiawastheperson.
“You’vethoughtofsomeone?Good.”
Mrs.DaneCalthropwasbriskandbusinesslike.
“I’llkeepaneyeontheThreeWitches.Istillfeelthattheyare—somehow—notreallytheanswer.It’slikewhentheStamfordiswomandishesoutalotofidiocyaboutEgyptianmysteriesandpropheciesfromthePyramidtexts.Allshesaysisplainbalderdash,buttherearePyramidsandtextsandtemplemysteries.Ican’thelpfeelingthatThyrzaGreyhasgotholdofsomething,foundoutaboutit,orheardittalkedabout,andisusingitinakindofwildhotchpotchtoboostherownimportanceandcontrolofoccultpowers.Peoplearesoproudofwickedness.Odd,isn’tit,thatpeoplewhoaregoodareneverproudofit?That’swhereChristianhumilitycomesin,Isuppose.Theydon’tevenknowtheyaregood.”
Shewassilentforamomentandthensaid:
“Whatwereallyneedisalinkofsomekind.AlinkbetweenoneofthesenamesandthePaleHorse.Somethingtangible.”
Eight
Detective-InspectorLejeuneheardthewell-knowntune“FatherO’Flynn”beingwhistledoutsideinthepassageandraisedhisheadasDr.Corrigancamein.
“Sorrytodisobligeeverybody,”saidCorrigan,“butthedriverofthatJaguarhadn’tanyalcoholinhimatall…WhatP.C.EllissmeltonhisbreathmusthavebeenEllis’simaginationorhalitosis.”
ButLejeuneatthemomentwasuninterestedinthedailyrunofmotorists’offences.
“Comeandtakealookatthis,”hesaid.
Corrigantooktheletterhandedtohim.Itwaswritteninasmallneatscript.TheheadingwasEverest,GlendowerClose,Bournemouth.
DearInspectorLejeune,YoumayrememberthatyouaskedmetogetintouchwithyouifIshouldhappentoseethemanwhowasfollowingFatherGormanonthenightthathewaskilled.Ikeptagoodlookoutintheneighbourhoodofmyestablishment,butnevercaughtaglimpseofhimagain.Yesterday,however,Iattendedachurchfêteinavillageabouttwentymilesfromhere.IwasattractedbythefactthatMrs.Oliver,thewell-knowndetectivewriter,wasgoingtobethereautographingherownbooks.IamagreatreaderofdetectivestoriesandIwasquitecurioustoseethelady.WhatIdidsee,tomygreatsurprise,wasthemanIdescribedtoyouashavingpassedmyshopthenightFatherGormanwaskilled.Sincethen,itwouldseem,hemusthavemetwithanaccident,asonthisoccasionhewaspropellinghimselfinawheeledchair.Imadesomediscreetinquiriesastowhohemightbe,anditseemsheisalocalresidentofthenameofVenables.HisplaceofresidenceisPriorsCourt,MuchDeeping.Heissaidtobeamanofconsiderablemeans.Hopingthesedetailsmaybeofsomeservicetoyou,Yourstruly,ZachariahOsborne
“Well?”saidLejeune.
“Soundsmostunlikely,”saidCorrigandampingly.
“Onthefaceofit,perhaps.ButI’mnotsosure—”
“ThisOsbornefellow—hecouldn’treallyhaveseenanyone’sfaceveryclearlyonafoggynightlikethat.Iexpectthisisjustachanceresemblance.Youknowwhatpeopleare.Ringupalloverthecountrytosaythey’veseenamissingperson—andninetimesoutoftenthere’snoresemblanceeventotheprinteddescription!”
“Osborne’snotlikethat,”saidLejeune.
“Whatishelike?”
“He’sarespectabledapperlittlechemist,old-fashioned,quiteacharacter,andagreatobserverofpersons.Oneofthedreamsofhislifeistobeabletocomeforwardandidentifyawifepoisonerwhohaspurchasedarsenicathisshop.”
Corriganlaughed.
“Inthatcase,thisisclearlyanexampleofwishfulthinking.”
“Perhaps.”
Corriganlookedathimcuriously.
“Soyouthinktheremaybesomethinginit?Whatareyougoingtodoaboutit?”
“Therewillbenoharm,inanycase,inmakingafewdiscreetinquiriesaboutthisMr.Venablesof—”hereferredtotheletter—“ofPriorsCourt,MuchDeeping.”
Nine
MarkEasterbrook’sNarrative
I
“Whatexcitingthingshappeninthecountry!”saidHermialightly.
Wehadjustfinisheddinner.Apotofblackcoffeewasinfrontofus—
Ilookedather.ThewordswerenotquitewhatIhadexpected.Ihadspentthelastquarterofanhourtellinghermystory.Shehadlistenedintelligentlyandwithinterest.ButherresponsewasnotatallwhatIhadexpected.Thetoneofhervoicewasindulgent—sheseemedneithershockednorstirred.
“Peoplewhosaythatthecountryisdullandthetownsfullofexcitementdon’tknowwhattheyaretalkingabout,”shewenton.“Thelastofthewitcheshavegonetocoverinthetumbledowncottage,blackmassesarecelebratedinremotemanorhousesbydecadentyoungmen.Superstitionrunsrifeinisolatedhamlets.Middle-agedspinstersclanktheirfalsescarabsandholdséancesandplanchettesrunluridlyoversheetsofblankpaper.Onecouldreallywriteaveryamusingseriesofarticlesonitall.Whydon’tyoutryyourhand?”
“Idon’tthinkyoureallyunderstandwhatI’vebeentellingyou,Hermia.”
“ButIdo,Mark!Ithinkit’salltremendouslyinteresting.It’sapageoutofhistory,allthelingeringforgottenloreoftheMiddleAges.”
“I’mnotinterestedhistorically,”Isaidirritably.“I’minterestedinthefacts.Inalistofnamesonasheetofpaper.Iknowwhathashappenedtosomeofthosepeople.What’sgoingtohappenorhashappenedtotherest?”
“Aren’tyoulettingyourselfgetrathercarriedaway?”
“No,”Isaidobstinately.“Idon’tthinkso.Ithinkthemenaceisreal.AndI’mnotaloneinthinkingso.Thevicar’swifeagreeswithme.”
“Oh,thevicar’swife!”Hermia’svoicewasscornful.
“No,not‘thevicar’swife’likethat!She’saveryunusualwoman.Thiswholethingisreal,Hermia.”
Hermiashruggedhershoulders.
“Perhaps.”
“Butyoudon’tthinkso?”
“Ithinkyourimaginationisrunningawaywithyoualittle,Mark.Idaresayyourmiddle-agedpussiesarequitegenuineinbelievingitallthemselves.I’msurethey’reverynastyoldpussies!”
“Butnotreallysinister?”
“Really,Mark,howcantheybe?”
Iwassilentforamoment.Mymindwavered—turningfromlighttodarknessandbackagain.ThedarknessofthePaleHorse,thelightthatHermiarepresented.Goodeverydaysensiblelight—theelectriclightbulbfirmlyfixedinitssocket,illuminatingallthedarkcorners.Nothingthere—nothingatall—justtheeverydayobjectsyoualwaysfindinaroom.Butyet—butyet—Hermia’slight,clearasitmightmakethingsseem,wasafterallanartificiallight….
Mymindswungback,resolutely,obstinately….
“Iwanttolookintoitall,Hermia.Gettothebottomofwhat’sgoingon.”
“Iagree.Ithinkyoushould.Itmightbequiteinteresting.Infact,reallyratherfun.”
“Notfun!”Isaidsharply.
Iwenton:
“Iwantedtoaskifyou’dhelpme,Hermia.”
“Helpyou?How?”
“Helpmetoinvestigate.Getrightdowntowhatthisisallabout.”
“ButMarkdear,justatpresentI’mmostterriblybusy.There’smyarticlefortheJournal.AndtheByzantiumthing.AndI’vepromisedtwoofmystudents—”
Hervoicewentonreasonably—sensibly—Ihardlylistened.
“Isee,”Isaid.“You’vetoomuchonyourplatealready.”
“That’sit.”Hermiawasclearlyrelievedatmyacquiescence.Shesmiledatme.OnceagainIwasstruckbyherexpressionofindulgence.Suchindulgenceasamothermightshowoverherlittleson’sabsorptioninhisnewtoy.
Damnitall,Iwasn’talittleboy.Iwasn’tlookingforamother—certainlynotthatkindofamother.Myownmotherhadbeencharmingandfeckless;andeveryoneinsight,includingherson,hadadoredlookingafterher.
IconsideredHermiadispassionatelyacrossthetable.
Sohandsome,somature,sointellectual,sowellread!Andso—howcouldoneputit?So—yes,sodamnablydull!
II
ThenextmorningItriedtogetholdofJimCorrigan—withoutsuccess.Ileftamessage,however,thatI’dbeinbetweensixandseven,ifhecouldcomeforadrink.Hewasabusyman,Iknew,andIdoubtedifhewouldbeabletocomeatsuchshortnotice,butheturnedupallrightatabouttenminutestoseven.WhileIwasgettinghimawhiskyhe
“Though,Idaresay,”heremarkedashesettleddowninachair,“thattheysufferedagooddealfromwomantrouble.AtleastIescapethat.”
“You’renotmarried,then?”
“Nofear.Andnomoreareyou,Ishouldsay,fromthecomfortablemessinwhichyoulive.Awifewouldtidyallthatupinnexttonotime.”
ItoldhimthatIdidn’tthinkwomenwereasbadashemadeout.
Itookmydrinktothechairoppositehimandbegan:
“YoumustwonderwhyIwantedtogetholdofyousourgently,butasamatteroffactsomethinghascomeupthatmayhaveabearingonwhatwewerediscussingthelasttimewemet.”
“Whatwasthat?—oh,ofcourse.TheFatherGormanbusiness.”
“Yes—Butfirst,doesthephraseThePaleHorsemeananythingtoyou?”
“ThePaleHorse…ThePaleHorse—No,Idon’tthinkso—why?”
“BecauseIthinkit’spossiblethatitmighthaveaconnectionwiththatlistofnamesyoushowedme—I’vebeendowninthecountrywithfriends—ataplacecalledMuchDeeping,andtheytookmetoanoldpub,orwhatwasonceapub,calledthePaleHorse.”
“Waitabit!MuchDeeping?MuchDeeping…IsitanywherenearBournemouth?”
“It’saboutfifteenmilesorsofromBournemouth.”
“Isupposeyoudidn’tcomeacrossanyonecalledVenablesdownthere?”
“CertainlyIdid.”
“Youdid?”Corrigansatupinsomeexcitement.“Youcertainlyhaveaknackofgoingplaces!Whatishelike?”
“He’samostremarkableman.”
“Heis,ishe?Remarkableinwhatway?”
“Principallyintheforceofhispersonality.Althoughhe’scompletelycrippledbypolio—”
“Corriganinterruptedmesharply—
“What?”
“Hehadpoliosomeyearsago.He’sparalysedfromthewaistdown.”
Corriganthrewhimselfbackinhischairwithalookofdisgust.
“Thattearsit!Ithoughtitwastoogoodtobetrue.”
“Idon’tunderstandwhatyoumean.”
Corrigansaid,“You’llhavetomeettheD.D.I.DivisionalDetective-InspectorLejeune.He’llbeinterestedinwhatyouhavetosay.WhenGormanwaskilled,Lejeuneaskedforinformationfromanyonewhohadseenhiminthestreetthatnight.Mostoftheanswerswereuseless,asisusual.Buttherewasapharmacist,nameofOsborne,whohasashopinthoseparts.HereportedhavingseenGormanpasshisplacethatnight,andhealsosawamanwhofollowedcloseafterhim—naturallyhedidn’tthinkanythingofitatthattime.Buthemanagedtodescribethischapprettyclosely—seemedquitesurehe’dknowhimagain.Well,acoupleofdaysagoLejeunegotaletterfromOsborne.He’sretired,andlivinginBournemouth.He’dbeenovertosomelocalfêteandhesaidhe’dseenthemaninquestionthere.Hewasatthefêteinawheeledchair.OsborneaskedwhohewasandwastoldhisnamewasVenables.”
Helookedatmequestioningly.Inodded
“Quiteright,”Isaid.“ItwasVenables.Hewasatthefête.Buthecouldn’thavebeenthemanwhowaswalkingalongastreetinPaddingtonfollowingFatherGorman.It’sphysicallyimpossible.Osbornemadeamistake.”
“Hedescribedhimverymeticulously.Heightaboutsixfeet,aprominentbeakednose,andanoticeableAdam’sapple.Correct?”
“Yes.ItfitsVenables.Butallthesame—”
“Iknow.Mr.Osborneisn’tnecessarilyasgoodashethinksheisatrecognisingpeople.Clearlyhewasmisledbythecoincidenceofachanceresemblance.Butit’sdisturbingtohaveyoucomealongshootingyourmouthoffaboutthatverydistrict—talkingaboutsomepalehorseorother.Whatisthispalehorse?Let’shaveyourstory.”
“Youwon’tbelieveit,”Iwarnedhim.“Idon’treallybelieveitmyself.”
“Comeon.Let’shaveit.”
ItoldhimofmyconversationwithThyrzaGrey.Hisreactionwasimmediate.
“Whatunutterablebalderdash!”
“Itis,isn’tit?”
“Ofcourseitis!What’sthematterwithyou,Mark?Whitecockerels.Sacrifices,Isuppose!Amedium,thelocalwitch,andamiddle-agedcountryspinsterwhocansendoutadeathrayguaranteedlethal.It’smad,man—absolutelymad!”
“Yes,it’smad,”Isaidheavily.
“Oh!stopagreeingwithme,Mark.Youmakemefeelthere’ssomethinginitwhenyoudothat.Youbelievethere’ssomethinginit,don’tyou?”
“Letmeaskyouaquestionfirst.Thisstuffabouteverybodyhavingasecreturgeorwishfordeath.Isthereanyscientifictruthinthat?”
Corriganhesitatedforamoment.Thenhesaid:
“I’mnotapsychiatrist.StrictlybetweenyouandmeIthinkhalfthesefellowsareslightlybarmythemselves.They’repunchdrunkontheories.Andtheygomuchtoofar.Icantellyouthatthepolicearen’tatallfondoftheexpertmedicalwitnesswho’salwaysbeingcalledinforthedefencetoexplainawayaman’shavingkilledsomehelplessoldwomanforthemoneyinthetill.”
“Youpreferyourglandulartheory?”
Hegrinned.
“Allright.Allright.I’matheorist,too.Admitted.Butthere’sagoodphysicalreasonbehindmytheory—ifIcanevergetatit.Butallthissubconsciousstuff!Pah!”
“Youdon’tbelieveinit?”
“OfcourseIbelieveinit.Butthesechapstakeitmuchtoofar.Theunconscious‘deathwish’andallthat,there’ssomethinginit,ofcourse,butnotnearlysomuchastheymakeout.”
“Butthereissuchathing,”Ipersisted.
“You’dbettergoandbuyyourselfabookonpsychologyandreadallaboutit.”
“ThyrzaGreyclaimsthatsheknowsallthereistoknow.”
“ThyrzaGrey!”hesnorted.“Whatdoesahalf-bakedspinsterinacountryvillageknowaboutmentalpsychology?”
“Shesayssheknowsalot.”
“AsIsaidbefore,balderdash!”
“That,”Iremarked,“iswhatpeoplehavealwayssaidaboutanydiscoverythatdoesn’taccordwithrecognisedideas.Frogstwitchingtheirlegsonrailings—”
Heinterruptedme.
“Soyou’veswallowedallthis,hook,lineandsinker?”
“Notatall,”Isaid.“Ijustwantedtoknowifthereisanyscientificbasisforit.”
Corrigansnorted.
“Scientificbasismyfoot!”
“Allright.Ijustwantedtoknow.”
“You’llbesayingnextshe’stheWomanwiththeBox.”
“WhatWomanwithabox?”
“Justoneofthewildstoriesthatturnsupfromtimetotime—byNostradamusoutofMotherShipton.Somepeoplewillswallowanything.”
“Youmightatleasttellmehowyouaregettingonwiththatlistofnames.”
“Theboyshavebeenhardatwork,butthesethingstaketimeandalotofroutinework.NameswithoutaddressesorChristiannamesaren’teasytotraceoridentify.”
“Let’stakeitfromadifferentangle.I’dbewillingtobetyouonething.Withinafairlyrecentperiod—sayayeartoayearandahalf—everyoneofthosenameshasappearedonadeathcertificate.AmIright?”
Hegavemeaqueerlook.
“You’reright—forwhatit’sworth.”
“That’sthethingtheyallhaveincommon—death.”
“Yes,butthatmayn’tmeanasmuchasitsounds,Mark.HaveyouanyideahowmanypeopledieeverydayintheBritishIsles?Andsomeofthosenamesarequitecommon—whichdoesn’thelp.”
“Delafontaine,”Isaid.“MaryDelafontaine.That’snotaverycommonname,isit?ThefuneralwaslastTuesday,Iunderstand.”
Heshotmeaquickglance.
“Howdoyouknowthat?Sawitinthepaper.Isuppose.”
“Ihearditfromafriendofhers.”
“Therewasnothingfishyaboutherdeath.Icantellyouthat.Infact,there’sbeennothingquestionableaboutanyofthedeathsthepolicehavebeeninvestigating.Iftheywere‘accidents’itmightbesuspicious.Butthedeathsareallperfectlynormaldeaths.Pneumonia,cerebralhaemorrhage,tumouronthebrain,gallstones,onecaseofpolio—nothingintheleastsuspicious.”
Inodded.
“Notaccident,”Isaid.“Notpoisoning.Justplainillnessesleadingtodeath.JustasThyrzaGreyclaims.”
“Areyoureallysuggestingthatthatwomancancausesomeoneshe’sneverseen,milesaway,tocatchpneumoniaanddieofit?”
“I’mnotsuggestingsuchathing.Shedid.Ithinkit’sfantasticandI’dliketothinkit’simpossible.Buttherearecertaincuriousfactors.There’sthecasualmentionofaPaleHorse—inconnectionwiththeremovalofunwantedpersons.ThereisaplacecalledthePaleHorse—andthewomanwholivestherepracticallyboaststhatsuchanoperationispossible.LivinginthatneighbourhoodisamanwhoisrecognisedverypositivelyasthemanwhowasseenfollowingFatherGormanonthenightthathewaskilled—thenightwhenhehadbeencalledtoadyingwomanwhowasheardtospeakof‘greatwickedness.’Ratheralotofcoincidences,don’tyouthink?”
“Themancouldn’thavebeenVenables,sinceaccordingtoyou,he’sbeenparalysedforyears.”
“Itisn’tpossible,fromthemedicalpointofview,thatthatparalysiscouldbefaked?”
“Ofcoursenot.Thelimbswouldbeatrophied.”
“Thatcertainlyseemstosettlethequestion,”Iadmitted.Isighed.“Apity.Ifthereisa—Idon’tknowquitewhattocallit—anorganisationthatspecialisesin‘Removals—Human’VenablesisthekindofbrainIcanseerunningit.Thethingshehasinthathouseofhisrepresentafantasticamountofmoney.Wheredoesthatmoneycomefrom?”
Ipaused—andthensaid:
“Allthesepeoplewhohavedied—tidily—intheirbeds,ofthis,thatandtheother—weretherepeoplewhoprofitedbytheirdeaths?”
“Someonealwaysprofitsbyadeath—ingreaterorlesserdegree.Therewerenonotablysuspiciouscircumstances,ifthatiswhatyoumean.”
“Itisn’tquite.”
“LadyHesketh-Dubois,asyouprobablyknow,leftaboutfiftythousandnet.Anieceandanephewinherit.NephewlivesinCanada.NieceismarriedandlivesinNorthofEngland.Bothcoulddowiththemoney.ThomasinaTuckertonwasleftaverylargefortunebyherfather.Ifshediedunmarriedbeforetheageoftwenty-one,itrevertstoherstepmother.Stepmotherseemsquiteablamelesscreature.Thenthere’syourMrs.Delafontaine—moneylefttoacousin—”
“Ahyes.Andthecousin?”
“InKenyawithherhusband.”
“Allsplendidlyabsent,”Icommented.
Corriganthrewmeanannoyedglance.
“OfthethreeSandfordswho’vekickedthebucket,oneleftawifemuchyoungerthanhimselfwhohasmarriedagain—ratherquickly.DeceasedSandfordwasanR.C.,andwouldn’thavegivenheradivorce.AfellowcalledSidneyHarmondsworthwhodiedofcerebralhaemorrhagewassuspectedattheYardofaugmentinghisincomebydiscreetblackmail.Severalpeopleinhighplacesmustbegreatlyrelievedthatheisnomore.”
“Whatyou’resayingineffectisthatallthesedeathswereconvenientdeaths.WhataboutCorrigan?”
Corrigangrinned.
“Corriganisacommonname.QuitealotofCorriganshavedied—butnottotheparticularadvantageofanyoneinparticularsofaraswecanlearn.”
“Thatsettlesit.You’rethenextprospectivevictim.Takegoodcareofyourself.”
“Iwill.Anddon’tthinkthatyourWitchofEndorisgoingtostrikemedownwithaduodenalulcer,orSpanish’flu.Notacasehardeneddoctor!”
“Listen,Jim.IwanttoinvestigatethisclaimofThyrzaGrey’s.Willyouhelpme?”
“No,Iwon’t!Ican’tunderstandaclevereducatedfellowlikeyoubeingtakeninbysuchbalderdash.”
Isighed.
“Can’tyouuseanotherword?I’mtiredofthatone.”
“Poppycock,ifyoulikeitbetter.”
“Idon’tmuch.”
“Obstinatefellow,aren’tyou,Mark?”
“AsIseeit,”Isaid,“somebodyhastobe!”
Ten
GlendowerClosewasveryverynew.Itsweptroundinanunevensemicircleandatitslowerendthebuilderswerestillatwork.AbouthalfwayalongitslengthwasagateinscribedwiththenameofEverest.
Visible,bentoverthegardenborder,plantingbulbs,wasaroundedbackwhichInspectorLejeunerecognisedwithoutdifficultyasthatofMr.ZachariahOsborne.Heopenedthegateandpassedinside.Mr.Osbornerosefromhisstoopingpositionandturnedtoseewhohadenteredhisdomain.Onrecognisinghisvisitor,anadditionalflushofpleasurerosetohisalreadyflushedface.Mr.OsborneinthecountrywaslookingverymuchthesameasMr.OsborneinhisshopinLondon.Heworestoutcountryshoesandwasinhisshirtsleeves,buteventhisdéshabillédetractedlittlefromthedapperneatnessofhisappearance.Afinedewofperspirationshowedontheshiningbaldnessofhisdomedhead.Thishecarefullywipedwithapockethandkerchiefbeforeadvancingtomeethisvisitor.
“InspectorLejeune!”heexclaimedpleasurably.“Itakethisasanhonour.Idoindeed,sir.Ireceivedyouracknowledgementofmyletter,butIneverhopedtoseeyouinperson.Welcometomylittleabode.WelcometoEverest.Thenamesurprisesyouperhaps?IhavealwaysbeendeeplyinterestedintheHimalayas.IfollowedeverydetailoftheEverestexpedition.Whatatriumphforourcountry.SirEdmundHillary!Whataman!Whatendurance!Asonewhohasneverhadtosufferanypersonaldiscomfort,IdoappreciatethecourageofthosewhogoforthtoscaleunconqueredmountainsorsailthroughiceboundseastodiscoverthesecretsofthePole.Butcomeinsideandpartake,Ibegofyou,ofsomesimplerefreshment.”
Leadingtheway,Mr.OsborneusheredLejeuneintothesmallbungalowwhichwastheacmeofneatness,thoughrathersparselyfurnished.
“Notquitesettledyet,”explainedMr.Osborne.“Iattendlocalsaleswheneverpossible.Thereisgoodstufftobepickedupthatway,ataquarterofthecostonewouldhavetopayinashop.NowwhatcanIofferyou?Aglassofsherry?Beer?Acupoftea?Icouldhavethekettleoninajiffy.”
Lejeuneexpressedapreferenceforbeer
“Hereweare,then,”saidMr.Osborne,returningamomentlaterwithtwobrimmingpewtertankards.“Wewillsitandtakeourrest.Everest.Haha!Thenameofmyhousehasadoublemeaning.Iamalwaysfondofalittlejoke.”
Thosesocialamenitiessatisfied,Mr.Osborneleanedforwardhopefully.
“Myinformationwasofservicetoyou?”
Lejeunesoftenedtheblowasmuchaspossible.
“Notasmuchaswehoped,Iamafraid.”
“Ah,IconfessIamdisappointed.Though,really,thereis,Irealise,noreasontosupposethatagentlemanproceedinginthesamedirectionasFatherGormanshouldnecessarilybehismurderer.Thatwasreallytoomuchtohopefor.AndthisMr.Venablesiswell-to-doandmuchrespectedlocally,Iunderstand,movinginthebestsocialcircles.”
“Thepointis,”saidLejeune,“thatitcouldnothavebeenMr.Venablesthatyousawonthatparticularevening.”
“Oh,butitwas.Ihaveabsolutelynodoubtinmyownmind.Iamnevermistakenaboutaface.”
“I’mafraidyoumusthavebeenthistime,”saidLejeunegently.“Yousee,Mr.Venablesisavictimofpolio.Foroverthreeyearshehasbeenparalysedfromthewaistdown,andisunabletousehislegs.”
“Polio!”ejaculatedMr.Osborne.“Ohdear,dear…Thatdoesseemtosettlethematter.Andyet—You’llexcuseme,InspectorLejeune.Ihopeyouwon’ttakeoffence.Butthatreallyisso?Imeanyouhavedefinitemedicalevidenceastothat?”
“Yes,Mr.Osborne.Wehave.Mr.VenablesisapatientofSirWilliamDugdaleofHarleyStreet,amosteminentmemberofthemedicalprofession.”
“Ofcourse,ofcourse.F.R.C.P.Averywell-knownname!Ohdear,Iseemtohavefallendownbadly.Iwassoverysure.Andtotroubleyoufornothing.”
“Youmustn’ttakeitlikethat,”saidLejeunequickly.“Yourinformationisstillveryvaluable.ItisclearthatthemanyousawmustbearaverycloseresemblancetoMr.Venables—andsinceMr.Venablesisamanofdistinctlyunusualappearance,thatisextremelyvaluableknowledgetohave.Therecannotbemanypersonsansweringtothatdescription.”
“True,true.”Mr.Osbornecheeredupalittle.“AmanofthecriminalclassesresemblingMr.Venablesinappearance.Therecertainlycannotbemanysuch.InthefilesatScotlandYard—”
Helookedhopefullyattheinspector.
“Itmaynotbequitesosimpleasthat,”saidLejeuneslowly.“Themanmaynothavearecord.Andinanycase,asyousaidjustnowthereisasyetnoreasontoassumethatthisparticularmanhadanythingtodowiththeattackonFatherGorman.”
Mr.Osbornelookeddepressedagain.
“Youmustforgiveme.Wishfulthinking,Iamafraid,onmypart…Ishouldsoliketohavebeenabletogiveevidenceatamurdertrial…Andtheywouldnothavebeenabletoshakeme,Iassureyouofthat.Ohno,Ishouldhavestucktomyguns!”
Lejeunewassilent,consideringhishostthoughtfully.Mr.Osbornerespondedtothesilentscrutiny.
“Yes?”
“Mr.Osborne,whywouldyouhavestucktoyourguns,asyouputit?”
Mr.Osbornelookedastonished.
“BecauseIamsocertain—oh—ohyes,Iseewhatyoumean.Themanwasnottheman.SoIhavenobusinesstofeelcertain.AndyetIdo—”
Lejeuneleanedforward.“YoumayhavewonderedwhyIhavecometoseeyoutoday.HavingreceivedmedicalevidencethatthemanseenbyyoucouldnothavebeenMr.Venables,whyamIhere?”
“Quite.Quite.Well,then,InspectorLejeune,whydidyoucome?”
“Icame,”saidLejeune,“becausetheverypositivenessofyouridentificationimpressedme.Iwantedtoknowonwhatgroundsyourcertaintywasbased.Itwasafoggynight,remember.Ihavebeentoyourshop.Ihavestoodwhereyoustoodinyourdoorwayandlookedacrossthestreet.Onafoggynightitseemedtomethatafigureatthatdistancewouldbeveryinsubstantial,thatitwouldbealmostimpossibletodistinguishfeaturesclearly.”
“Uptoapoint,ofcourse,youarequiteright.Fogwassettingin.Butitcame,ifyouunderstandme,inpatches.Itclearedforashortspaceeverynowandthen.ItdidsoatthemomentthatIsawFatherGormanwalkingfastalongtheoppositepavement.ThatiswhyIsawhimandthemanwhofollowedshortlyafterhimsoclearly.Moreover,justwhenthesecondmanwasabreastofme,heflickedonalightertorelighthiscigarette.Hisprofileatthatmomentwasveryclear—thenose,thechin,thepronouncedAdam’sapple.That’sastriking-lookingman,Ithought.I’veneverseenhimaboutbefore.Ifhe’deverbeenintomyshopI’dhaverememberedhim,Ithought.So,yousee—”
Mr.Osbornebrokeoff.
“Yes,Isee,”saidLejeunethoughtfully.
“Abrother,”suggestedMr.Osbornehopefully.“Atwinbrother,perhaps?Nowthatwouldbeasolution.”
“Theidenticaltwinsolution?”Lejeunesmiledandshookhishead.“Soveryconvenientinfiction.Butinreallife—”heshookhishead.“Itdoesn’thappen,youknow.Itreallydoesn’thappen.”
“No…No,Isupposenot.Butpossiblyanordinarybrother.Aclosefamilyresemblance—”Mr.Osbornelookedwistful
“Asfaraswecanascertain,”Lejeunespokecarefully,“Mr.Venableshasnotgotabrother.”
“Asfarasyoucanascertain?”Mr.Osbornerepeatedthewords.
“ThoughofBritishnationality,hewasbornabroad,hisparentsonlybroughthimtoEnglandwhenhewaselevenyearsold.”
“Youdon’tknowverymuchabouthimreally,then?Abouthisfamily,Imean?”
“No,”saidLejeune,thoughtfully.“Itisn’teasytofindoutverymuchaboutMr.Venables—without,thatistosay,goingandaskinghim—andwe’venogroundsfordoingthat.”
Hespokedeliberately.Therewerewaysoffindingoutthingswithoutgoingandasking,buthehadnointentionoftellingMr.Osborneso.
“Soifitwasn’tforthemedicalevidence,”hesaid,gettingtohisfeet,“you’dbesureabouttheidentification?”
“Ohyes,”saidMr.Osborne,followingsuit.“It’squiteahobbyofmine,youknow,memorisingfaces.”Hechuckled.“ManyacustomerI’vesurprisedthatway.‘How’stheasthma?’I’dsaytosomeone—andshe’dlookquitesurprised.‘YoucameinlastMarch,’I’dsay,‘withaprescription.OneofDr.Hargreaves’s.’Andwouldn’tshelooksurprised!Didmealotofgoodinbusiness.Itpleasespeopletoberemembered,thoughIwasn’tasgoodwithnamesaswithfaces.Istartedmakingahobbyofthethingquiteyoung.IfRoyaltycandoit,Iusedtosaytomyself,youcandoit,ZachariahOsborne!Afterawhileitbecomesautomatic.Youhardlyhavetomakeaneffort.”
Lejeunesighed.
“I’dliketohaveawitnesslikeyouinthebox,”hesaid.“Identificationisalwaysatrickybusiness.Mostpeoplecan’ttellyouanythingatall.They’llsaythingslike:‘Oh,tallish,Ithink.Fair-haired—well,notveryfair,sortofmiddling.Ordinarysortofface.Eyesblue—orgrey—orperhapsbrown.Greymackintosh—oritmayhavebeendarkblue.’”
Mr.Osbornelaughed.
“Notmuchgoodtoyou,thatsortofthing.”
“Frankly,awitnesslikeyouwouldbeagodsend!”
Mr.Osbornelookedpleased.
“It’sagift,”hesaidmodestly.“Butmindyou,I’vecultivatedmygift.Youknowthegametheyplayatchildren’sparties—alotofobjectsbroughtinonatrayandafewminutesgiventomemorisethem.Icanscoreahundredpercenteverytime.Quitesurprisespeople.Howwonderful,theysay.It’snotwonderful.It’saknack.Comeswithpractice.”Hechuckled.“I’mnotabadconjurereither.IdoabittoamusethekiddiesatChristmastime.Excuseme,Mr.Lejeune,whathaveyougotinyourbreastpocket?”
Heleanedforwardandextractedasmallashtray.
“Tut,tut,sir,andyouinthepoliceforce!”
HelaughedheartilyandLejeunelaughedwithhim.ThenMr.Osbornesighed.
“It’sanicelittleplaceI’vegothere,sir.Theneighboursseempleasantandfriendly.It’sthelifeI’vebeenlookingforwardtoforyears,butI’lladmittoyou,Mr.Lejeune,thatImisstheinterestofmyownbusiness.Alwayssomeonecominginandout.Types,youknow,lotsoftypestostudy.I’velookedforwardtohavingmylittlebitofgarden,andI’vegotquitealotofinterests.Butterflies,asItoldyou,andabitofbird-watchingnowandagain.Ididn’trealisethatI’dmisswhatImightcallthehumanelementsomuch.
“I’dlookedforwardtogoingabroadinasmallway.Well,I’vetakenoneweekendtriptoFrance.Quitenice,Imustsay—butIfelt,verystrongly,thatEngland’sreallygoodenoughforme.Ididn’tcarefortheforeigncooking,foronething.Theyhaven’ttheleastidea,asfarasIcansee,howtodoeggsandbacon.”
Hesighedagain.
“Justshowsyouwhathumannatureis.Lookedforwardnoendtoretiring,Idid.Andnow—doyouknowI’veactuallyplayedwiththeideaofbuyingasmallshareinapharmaceuticalbusinesshereinBournemouth—justenoughtogivemeaninterest,noneedtobetiedtotheshopallthetime.ButI’dfeelinthemiddleofthingsagain.Itwillbethesamewithyou,Iexpect.You’llmakeplansahead,butwhenthetimecomes,you’llmisstheexcitementofyourpresentlife.”
Lejeunesmiled.
“Apoliceman’slifeisnotsucharomanticallyexcitingoneasyouthink,Mr.Osborne.You’vegottheamateur’sviewofcrime.Mostofitisdullroutine.We’renotalwayschasingdowncriminals,andfollowingupmysteriousclues.Itcanbequiteadullbusiness,really.”
Mr.Osbornelookedunconvinced.
“Youknowbest,”hesaid.“Good-bye,Mr.Lejeune,andI’msorryindeedthatIhaven’tbeenabletohelpyou.Iftherewasanything—anytime—”
“I’llletyouknow,”Lejeunepromisedhim.
“Thatdayatthefête,itseemedsuchachance,”Osbornemurmuredsadly.
“Iknow.Apitythemedicalevidenceissodefinite,butonecan’tgetoverthatsortofthing,canone?”
“Well—”Mr.Osborneletthewordlinger,butLejeunedidnotnoticeit.Hestrodeawaybriskly.Mr.Osbornestoodbythegatelookingafterhim.
“Medicalevidence,”hesaid.“Doctorsindeed!IfheknewhalfwhatIknowaboutdoctors—innocents,that’swhattheyare!Doctorsindeed!”
Eleven
MarkEasterbrook’sNarrative
I
FirstHermia.NowCorrigan.
Allright,then,Iwasmakingafoolofmyself!
Iwasacceptingbalderdashassolidtruth.IhadbeenhypnotisedbythatphonywomanThyrzaGreyintoacceptingafarragoofnonsense.Iwasacredulous,superstitiousass.
Idecidedtoforgetthewholedamnedbusiness.Whatwasittodowithmeanyway?
Throughthemistofdisillusionment,IheardtheechoesofMrs.DaneCalthrop’surgenttones.
“You’vegottoDOsomething!”
Allverywell—tosaythingslikethat.
“Youneedsomeonetohelpyou…”
IhadneededHermia.IhadneededCorrigan.Butneitherofthemwouldplay.Therewasnooneelse.
Unless—
Isat—consideringtheidea.
OnanimpulseIwenttothetelephoneandrangMrs.Oliver.
“Hallo.MarkEasterbrookhere.”
“Yes?”
“Canyoutellmethenameofthatgirlwhowasstayinginthehouseforthefête?”
“Iexpectso.Letmesee…Yes,ofcourse,Ginger.Thatwashername.”
“Iknowthat.Butherothername.”
“Whatothername?”
“IdoubtifshewaschristenedGinger.Andshemusthaveasurname.”
“Well,ofcourse.ButI’venoideawhatitis.Oneneverseemstohearanysurnamesnowadays.It’sthefirsttimeI’devermether.”TherewasaslightpauseandthenMrs.Oliversaid,“You’llhavetoringupRhodaandaskher.”
Ididn’tlikethatidea.SomehowIfeltshyaboutit.
“Oh,Ican’tdothat,”Isaid.
“It’sperfectlysimple,”saidMrs.Oliverencouragingly.“Justsayyou’velostheraddressandcan’trememberhernameandyou’dpromisedtosendheroneofyourbooks,orthenameofashopthatsellscheapcaviare,ortoreturnahandkerchiefwhichshelentyouwhenyournosebledoneday,ortheaddressofarichfriendwhowantsapicturerestored.Anyofthosedo?Icanthinkoflotsmoreifyou’dlike.”
“Oneofthosewilldobeautifully,”Iassuredher.
Irangoff,dialled100andpresentlywasspeakingtoRhoda.
“Ginger?”saidRhoda.“Oh,shelivesinaMews.CalgaryPlace.Forty-five.Waitaminute.I’llgiveyouhertelephonenumber.”Shewentawayandreturnedaminutelater.“It’sCapricorn35987.Gotit?”
“Yes,thanks.ButIhaven’tgothername.Ineverheardit.”
“Hername?Oh,hersurname,youmean.Corrigan.KatherineCorrigan.Whatdidyousay?”
“Nothing.Thanks,Rhoda.”
Itseemedtomeanoddcoincidence.Corrigan.TwoCorrigans.Perhapsitwasanomen.
IdialledCapricorn35987.
II
GingersatoppositemeatatableintheWhiteCockatoowherewehadmetforadrink.ShelookedrefreshinglythesameasshehadlookedatMuchDeeping—atousledmopofredhair,anengagingfreckledfaceandalertgreeneyes.ShewaswearingherLondonartisticliveryofskintightpants,aSloppyJoejerseyandblackwoollenstockings—butotherwiseshewasthesameGinger.Ilikedherverymuch.
“I’vehadtodoalotofworktotrackyoudown,”Isaid.“Yoursurnameandyouraddressandyourtelephonenumber—allunknown.I’vegotaproblem.”
“That’swhatmydailyalwayssays.ItusuallymeansthatIhavetobuyheranewsaucepanscoureroracarpetbrush,orsomethingdull.”
“Youdon’thavetobuyanything,”Iassuredher.
ThenItoldher.Itdidn’ttakequitesolongasthestoryIhadtoldtoHermia,becauseshewasalreadyfamiliarwiththePaleHorseanditsoccupants.IavertedmyeyesfromherasIfinishedthetale.Ididn’twanttoseeherreaction.Ididn’twanttoseeindulgentamusement,orstarkincredulity.Thewholethingsoundedmoreidioticthanever.Noone(exceptMrs.DaneCalthrop)couldpossiblyfeelaboutitasIfelt.Idrewpatternsontheplastictabletopwithastrayfork.
Ginger’svoicecamebriskly.
“That’sall,isit?”
“That’sall,”Iadmitted.
“Whatareyougoingtodoaboutit?”
“Youthink—Ishoulddosomethingaboutit?”
“Well,ofcourse!Someone’sgottodosomething!Youcan’thaveanorganisationgoingaboutbumpingpeopleoffandnotdoanything.”
“ButwhatcanIdo?”
Icouldhavefallenonherneckandhuggedher.
ShewassippingPernodandfrowning.Warmthspreadoverme.Iwasnolongeralone.
Presentlyshesaidmusingly:
“You’llhavetofindoutwhatitallmeans.”
“Iagree.Buthow?”
“Thereseemtobeoneortwoleads.PerhapsIcanhelp.”
“Wouldyou?Butthere’syourjob.”
“Plentycouldbedoneoutofofficehours.”Shefrownedagainasshethought
“Thatgirl,”shesaidatlast.“TheoneatsupperaftertheOldVic.Poppyorsomething.Sheknowsaboutit—shemustdo—tosaywhatshedid.”
“Yes,butshegotfrightened,andsheeredoffwhenItriedtoaskherquestions.Shewasscared.Shedefinitelywouldn’ttalk.”
“That’swhereIcanhelp,”saidGingerconfidently.“She’dtellmethingsshewouldn’ttellyou.Canyouarrangeforustomeet?Yourfriendandherandyouandme?Ashow,ordinnerorsomething?”Thenshelookeddoubtful.“Oristhattooexpensive?”
IassuredherthatIcouldsupporttheexpense.
“Asforyou—”Gingerthoughtaminute.“Ibelieve,”shesaidslowly,“thatyourbestbetwouldbetheThomasinaTuckertonangle.”
“Buthow?She’sdead.”
“Andsomebodywantedherdead,ifyourideasarecorrect!AndarrangeditwiththePaleHorse.Thereseemtwopossibilities.Thestepmother,orelsethegirlshehadthefightwithatLuigi’sandwhoseyoungmanshehadpinched.Shewasgoingtomarryhim,perhaps.Thatwouldn’tsuitthestepmother’sbook—orthegirl’s—ifshewascrazyenoughabouttheyoungman.EitherofthemmighthavegonetothePaleHorse.Wemightgetaleadthere.Whatwasthegirl’sname,ordon’tyouknow?”
“IthinkitwasLou.”
“Ash-blondelankhair,mediumheight,ratherbosomy?”
Iagreedwiththedescription.
“IthinkI’vemetherabout.LouEllis.She’sgotabitofmoneyherself—”
“Shedidn’tlooklikeit.”
“Theydon’t—butshehas,allright.Anyway,shecouldaffordtopaythePaleHorse’sfees.Theydon’tdoitfornothing,Isuppose.”
“Onewouldhardlyimagineso.”
“You’llhavetotacklethestepmother.It’smoreupyourstreetthanmine.Goandseeher—”
“Idon’tknowwhereshelivesoranything.”
“LuigiknowssomethingaboutTommy’shome.He’llknowwhatcountyshelivesin,Ishouldimagine.Afewbooksofreferenceoughttodotherest.Butwhatidiotsweare!YousawthenoticeinTheTimesofherdeath.You’veonlygottogoandlookintheirfiles.”
“I’llhavetohaveapretextfortacklingthestepmother,”Isaidthoughtfully.
Gingersaidthatthatwouldbeeasy.
“You’resomeone,yousee,”shepointedout.“Ahistorian,andyoulectureandyou’vegotlettersafteryourname.Mrs.Tuckertonwillbeimpressed,andprobablytickledtodeathtoseeyou.”
“Andthepretext?”
“Somefeatureofinterestaboutherhouse?”suggestedGingervaguely.“Suretohavesomethingifit’sanoldone.”
“Nothingtodowithmyperiod,”Iobjected.
“Shewon’tknowthat,”saidGinger.“Peoplealwaysthinkthatanythingoverahundredyearsoldmustinterestahistorianoranarchaeologist.Orhowaboutapicture?Theremustbesomeoldpicturesofsomekind.Anyway,youmakeanappointmentandyouarriveandyoubutterherupandbecharming,andthenyousayyouoncemetherdaughter—herstepdaughter—andsayhowsadetc….Andthen,bringin,quitesuddenly,areferencetothePaleHorse.Bealittlesinisterifyoulike.”
“Andthen?”
“Andthenyouobservethereaction.IfyoumentionthePaleHorseoutoftheblue,andshehasaguiltyconscience,Idefyanyonenottoshowsomesign.”
“Andifshedoes—whatnext?”
“Theimportantthingis,thatwe’llknowwe’reontherighttrack.Oncewe’resure,wecangofullsteamahead.”
Shenoddedthoughtfully.
“There’ssomethingelse.WhydoyouthinktheGreywomantoldyouallshedidtellyou?Whywasshesoforthcoming?”
“Thecommonsenseanswerisbecauseshe’spotty.”
“Idon’tmeanthat.Imean—whyyou?Youinparticular?Ijustwonderediftheremightbesomekindoftie-up?”
“Tie-upwithwhat?”
“Waitjustaminute—whileIgetmyideasinorder.”
Iwaited.Gingernoddedtwiceemphaticallyandthenspoke.
“Supposing—justsupposing—itwentlikethis.ThePoppygirlknowsallaboutthePaleHorseinavaguekindofway—notthroughpersonalknowledge,butbyhearingittalkedabout.Shesoundsthesortofgirlthatwouldn’tbenoticedmuchbyanyonewhentheyweretalking—butshe’dquitelikelytakeinalotmorethantheythoughtshedid.Rathersillypeopleareoftenlikethat.Sayshewasoverheardtalkingtoyouaboutitthatnight,andsomeoneticksheroff.Nextdayyoucomeandaskherquestions,andshe’sbeenscared,soshewon’ttalk.Butthefactthatyou’vecomeandaskedheralsogetsaround.Nowwhatwouldbethereasonforyouraskingquestions?You’renotthepolice.Thelikelyreasonwouldbethatyou’reapossibleclient.”
“Butsurely—”
“It’slogical,Itellyou.You’veheardrumoursofthisthing—youwanttofindoutaboutit—foryourownpurposes.PresentlyyouappearatthefêteinMuchDeeping.YouarebroughttothePaleHorse—presumablybecauseyou’veaskedtobetakenthere—andwhathappens?ThyrzaGreygoesstraightintohersalestalk.”
“Isupposeit’sapossibility.”Iconsidered…“Doyouthinkshecandowhatsheclaimstodo,Ginger?”
“PersonallyI’dbeinclinedtosayofcourseshecan’t!Butoddthingscanhappen.Especiallywiththingslikehypnotism.Tellingsomeonetogoandtakeabiteoutofacandlethenextafternoonatfouro’clock,andtheydoitwithouthavinganyideawhy.Thatsortofthing.Andelectricboxeswhereyouputinadropofbloodandittellsyouifyou’regoingtohavecancerintwoyears’time.Itallsoundsratherbogus—butperhapsnotentirelybogus.AboutThyrza—Idon’tthinkit’strue—butI’mterriblyafraiditmightbe!”
“Yes,”Isaidsombrely,“thatexplainsitverywell.”
“ImightputinabitofworkonLou,”saidGingerthoughtfully.“IknowlotsofplaceswhereIcanrunacrossher.Luigimightknowafewthingstoo.
“Butthefirstthing,”sheadded,“istogetintouchwithPoppy.”
Thelatterwasarrangedfairlyeasily.Davidwasfreethreenightsahead,wesettledonamusicalshow,andhearrived,withPoppyintow.WewenttotheFantasieforsupperandInoticedthatGingerandPoppyafteraprolongedretirementtopowdertheirnoses,reappearedonexcellenttermswitheachother.NocontroversialsubjectswereraisedduringthepartyonGinger’sinstructions.WefinallypartedandIdroveGingerhome.
“Notmuchtoreport,”shesaidcheerfully.“I’vebeenontoLou.ThemantheyquarrelledaboutwasGenePleydon,bytheway.Anastybitofgoods,ifyouaskme.Verymuchonthemake.Thegirlsalladorehim.HewasmakingquiteaplayforLouandthenTommycamealong.Lousayshedidn’tcareforherabit,hewasafterhermoney—butshe’dprobablywanttothinkthat.Anyway,hedroppedLoulikeahotcoalandshewasnaturallysoreaboutit.Accordingtoher,itwasn’tmuchofarow—justafewgirlishhighspirits.”
“Girlishhighspirits!ShetuggedTommy’shairoutbytheroots.”
“I’mjusttellingyouwhatLoutoldme.”
“Sheseemstohavebeenveryforthcoming.”
“Oh,theyallliketalkingabouttheiraffairs.They’lltalktoanyonewhowilllisten.Anyway,Louhasgotanotherboyfriendnow—anotherdud,I’dsay,butshe’salreadycrazyabouthim.Soitdoesn’tlooktomeasthoughshe’dbeenaclientofthePaleHorse.Ibroughtthetermup,butitdidn’tregister.Ithinkwecanwashherout.Luigidoesn’tthinktherewasmuchinit,either.Ontheotherhand,hethinksTommywasseriousaboutGene.AndGenewasgoingforherinabigway.Whathaveyoudoneaboutthestepmother?”
“Shewasabroad.Shecomesbacktomorrow.I’vewrittenheraletter—orratherIgotmysecretarytowriteit,askingforanappointment.”
“Good.We’regettingthingsmoving.Ihopeeverythingdoesn’tpeterout.”
“Ifitgetsusanywhere!”
“Somethingwill,”saidGingerenthusiastically.“Thatremindsme.Togobacktothebeginningofallthis,thetheoryisthatFatherGormanwaskilledafterbeingcalledouttoadyingwoman,andthathewasmurderedbecauseofsomethingshetoldhimorconfessedtohim.Whathappenedtothatwoman?Didshedie?Andwhowasshe?Thereoughttobesomeleadthere.”
“Shedied.Idon’treallyknowmuchabouther.IthinkhernamewasDavis.”
“Well,couldn’tyoufindoutmore?”
“I’llseewhatIcando.”
“Ifwecouldgetatherbackground,wemightfindouthowsheknewwhatshedidknow.”
“Iseeyourpoint.”
IgotJimCorriganonthetelephoneearlythenextmorningandputmyquerytohim.
“Letmeseenow.Wedidgetabitfurther,butnotmuch.Daviswasn’therrealname,that’swhyittookalittletimetocheckuponher.Halfamoment,Ijotteddownafewthings…Ohyes,hereweare.HerrealnamewasArcher,andherhusbandhadbeenasmalltimecrook.Shelefthimandwentbacktohermaidenname.”
“WhatsortofacrookwasArcher?Andwhereishenow?”
“Oh,verysmallstuff.Pinchedthingsfromdepartmentstores.Unconsideredtrifleshereandthere.Hehadafewconvictions.Astowhereheisnow,he’sdead.”
“Notmuchthere.”
“No,thereisn’t.ThefirmMrs.Daviswasworkingforatthetimeofherdeath,theC.R.C.(Customers’ReactionsClassified),apparentlydidn’tknowanythingabouther,orherbackground.”
Ithankedhimandrangoff.
Twelve
MarkEasterbrook’sNarrative
ThreedayslaterGingerrangmeup.
“I’vegotsomethingforyou,”shesaid.“Anameandaddress.Writeitdown.”
Itookoutmynotebook.
“Goahead.”
“BradleyisthenameandtheaddressisSeventy-eightMunicipalSquareBuildings,Birmingham.”
“Well,I’mdamned,whatisallthis?”
“Goodnessknows!Idon’t.IdoubtifPoppydoesreally!”
“Poppy?Isthis—”
“Yes.I’vebeenworkingonPoppyinabigway.ItoldyouIcouldgetsomethingoutofherifItried.OnceIgothersoftenedup,itwaseasy.”
“Howdidyousetaboutit?”Iaskedcuriously.
Gingerlaughed.
“Girls-togetherstuff.Youwouldn’tunderstand.Thepointisthatifagirltellsthingstoanothergirlitdoesn’treallycount.Shedoesn’tthinkitmatters.”
“Allinthetradeunionsotospeak?”
“Youcouldputitlikethat.Anyway,welunchedtogether,andIyappedabitaboutmylovelife—andvariousobstacles—marriedmanwithimpossiblewife—Catholic—wouldn’tdivorcehim—madehislifehell.Andhowshewasaninvalid,alwaysinpain,butnotlikelytodieforyears.Reallymuchbetterforherifshecoulddie.SaidI’dagoodmindtotrythePaleHorse,butIdidn’treallyknowhowtosetaboutit—andwoulditbeterriblyexpensive?AndPoppysaidyes,shethoughtitwould.She’dheardtheychargedtheearth.AndIsaid‘Well,Ihaveexpectations.’WhichIhave,youknow—agreat-uncle—apoppetandI’dhatehimtodie,butthefactcameinuseful.Perhaps,Isaid,they’dtakesomethingonaccount?Buthowdidonesetaboutit?AndthenPoppycameacrosswiththatnameandaddress.Youhadtogotohimfirst,shesaid,tosettlethebusinessside.”
“It’sfantastic!”Isaid.
“Itis,rather.”
Wewerebothsilentforamoment.
Isaidincredulously:“Shetoldyouquiteopenly?Shedidn’tseem—scared?”
Gingersaidimpatiently:“Youdon’tunderstand.Tellingmedidn’tcount.Andafterall,Mark,ifwhatwethinkistruethebusinesshastobemoreorlessadvertised,hasn’tit?Imeantheymustwantnew‘clients’allthetime.”
“We’remadtobelieveanythingofthekind.”
“Allright.We’remad.AreyougoingtoBirminghamtoseeMr.Bradley?”
“Yes,”Isaid.“I’mgoingtoseeMr.Bradley.Ifheexists.”
Ihardlybelievedthathedid.ButIwaswrong.Mr.Bradleydidexist.
MunicipalSquareBuildingswasanenormoushoneycombofoffices.Seventy-eightwasonthethirdfloor.Onthegroundglassdoorwasneatlyprintedinblack:C.R.Bradley,COMMISSIONAGENT.Andbelow,insmallerletters:Pleaseenter.
Ientered.
Therewasasmallouteroffice,empty,andadoormarkedPRIVATE,halfajar.Avoicefrombehinditsaid:
“Comein,please.”
Theinnerofficewaslarger.Ithadadesk,oneortwocomfortablechairs,atelephone,astackofboxfiles,andMr.Bradleysittingbehindthedesk.
Hewasasmalldarkman,withshrewddarkeyes.Heworeadarkbusinesssuitandlookedtheacmeofrespectability.
“Justshutthedoor,willyou?”hesaidpleasantly.“Andsitdown.Thatchair’squitecomfortable.Cigarette?No?Wellnow,whatcanIdoforyou?”
Ilookedathim.Ididn’tknowhowtobegin.Ihadn’ttheleastideawhattosay.Itwas,Ithink,sheerdesperationthatledmetoattackwiththephraseIdid.Oritmayhavebeenthesmallbeadyeyes.
“Howmuch?”Isaid.
Itstartledhimalittle,Iwasgladtonote,butnotinthewaythatheoughttohavebeenstartled.Hedidnotassume,asIwouldhaveassumedinhisplace,thatsomeonenotquiterightintheheadhadcomeintohisoffice.
Hiseyebrowsrose.
“Well,well,well,”hesaid.“Youdon’twastemuchtime,doyou?”
Iheldtomyline.
“What’stheanswer?”
Heshookhisheadgentlyinaslightlyreprovingmanner.
“That’snotthewaytogoaboutthings.Wemustproceedinthepropermanner.”
Ishruggedmyshoulders.
“Asyoulike.What’sthepropermanner?”
“Wehaven’tintroducedourselvesyet,havewe?Idon’tknowyourname.”
“Atthemoment,”Isaid,“Idon’treallythinkIfeelinclinedtotellittoyou.”
“Cautious.”
“Cautious.”
“Anadmirablequality—thoughnotalwayspracticable.Nowwhosentyoutome?Who’sourmutualfriend?”
“AgainIcan’ttellyou.Afriendofminehasafriendwhoknowsafriendofyours.”
Mr.Bradleynoddedhishead.
“That’sthewayalotofmyclientscome,”hesaid.“Someoftheproblemsarerather—delicate.Youknowmyprofession,Ipresume?”
Hehadnointentionofwaitingformyreply.Hehastenedtogivemetheanswer
“TurfCommissionAgent,”hesaid.“You’reinterested,perhaps,in—horses?”
Therewasjustthefaintestpausebeforethelastword.
“I’mnotaracingman,”Isaidnoncommittally.
“Therearemanyaspectsofthehorse.Racing,hunting,hacking.It’sthesportingaspectthatinterestsme.Betting.”Hepausedforamomentandthenaskedcasually—almosttoocasually:
“Anyparticularhorseyouhadinmind?”
Ishruggedmyshouldersandburntmyboats.
“Apalehorse….”
“Ah,verygood,excellent.Youyourself,ifImaysayso,seemtoberatheradarkhorse.Haha!Youmustn’tbenervous.Therereallyisnoneedtobenervous.”
“That’swhatyousay,”Isaidratherrudely.
Mr.Bradley’smannerbecamemoreblandandsoothing.
“Icanquiteunderstandyourfeelings.ButIcanassureyouthatyouneedn’thaveanyanxiety.I’malawyermyself—disbarred,ofcourse,”headdedparenthetically,inwhatwasreallyalmostanengagingway.“OtherwiseIshouldn’tbehere.ButIcanassureyouthatIknowmylaw.EverythingIrecommendisperfectlylegalandaboveboard.It’sjustaquestionofabet.Amancanbetonanythinghepleases,whetheritwillraintomorrow,whethertheRussianscansendamantothemoon,orwhetheryourwife’sgoingtohavetwins.YoucanbetwhetherMrs.B.willdiebeforeChristmas,orwhetherMrs.C.willlivetobeahundred.Youbackyourjudgementoryourintuitionorwhateveryouliketocallit.It’sassimpleasthat.”
IfeltexactlyasthoughIwerebeingreassuredbyasurgeonbeforeanoperation.Mr.Bradley’sconsultingroommannerwasperfect.
Isaidslowly:
“Idon’treallyunderstandthisbusinessofthePaleHorse.”
“Andthatworriesyou?Yes,itworriesalotofpeople.Morethingsinheavenandearth,Horatio,andsoonandsoon.Frankly,Idon’tunderstanditmyself.Butitgetsresults.Itgetsresultsinthemostmarvellousway.”
“Ifyoucouldtellmemoreaboutit—”
Ihadsettledonmyrolenow—cautious,eager—butscared.ItwasobviouslyanattitudewithwhichMr.Bradleyhadfrequentlyhadtocope.
“Doyouknowtheplaceatall?”
Imadeaquickdecision.Itwouldbeunwisetolie.
“I—well—yes—Iwaswithsomefriends.Theytookmethere—”
“Charmingoldpub.Fullofhistoricalinterest.Andthey’vedonewondersinrestoringit.Youmether,then.Myfriend,MissGrey,Imean?”
“Yes—yes,ofcourse.Anextraordinarywoman.”
“Isn’tshe?Yes,isn’tshe?You’vehititexactly.Anextraordinarywoman.Andwithextraordinarypowers.”
“Thethingssheclaims!Surely—quite—well—impossible?”
“Exactly.That’sthewholepoint.Thethingssheclaimstobeabletoknowanddoareimpossible!Everybodywouldsayso.Inacourtoflaw,forinstance—”
Theblackbeadyeyeswereboringintomine.Mr.Bradleyrepeatedthewordswithdesignedemphasis.
“Inacourtoflaw,forinstance—thewholethingwouldberidiculed!Ifthatwomanstoodupandconfessedtomurder,murderbyremotecontrolor‘willpower’orwhatevernonsensicalnameshelikestouse,thatconfessioncouldn’tbeactedupon!Evenifherstatementwastrue(whichofcoursesensiblemenlikeyouandIdon’tbelieveforonemoment!)itcouldn’tbeadmittedlegally.Murderbyremotecontrolisn’tmurderintheeyesofthelaw.It’sjustnonsense.That’sthewholebeautyofthething—asyou’llappreciateifyouthinkforamoment.”
IunderstoodthatIwasbeingreassured.MurdercommittedbyoccultpowerswasnotmurderinanEnglishcourtoflaw.IfIweretohireagangstertocommitmurderwithacoshoraknife,Iwascommittedwithhim—anaccomplicebeforethefact—Ihadconspiredwithhim.ButifIcommissionedThyrzaGreytouseherblackarts—thoseblackartswerenotadmissible.Thatwaswhat,accordingtoMr.Bradley,wasthebeautyofthething.
Allmynaturalscepticismroseupinprotest.Iburstoutheatedly:
“Butdamnitall,it’sfantastic,”Ishouted.“Idon’tbelieveit.It’simpossible.”
“Iagreewithyou.Ireallydo.ThyrzaGreyisanextraordinarywoman,andshecertainlyhassomeextraordinarypowers,butonecan’tbelieveallthethingssheclaimsforherself.Asyousay,it’stoofantastic.Inthisage,onereallycan’tcreditthatsomeonecansendoutthoughtwavesorwhateveritis,eitheroneselforthroughamedium,sittinginacottageinEnglandandcausesomeonetosickenanddieofaconvenientdiseaseoutinCapriorsomewherelikethat.”
“Butthatiswhatsheclaims?”
“Ohyes.Ohcourseshehaspowers—sheisScottishandwhatiscalledsecondsightisapeculiarityofthatrace.Itreallydoesexist.WhatIdobelieve,andbelievewithoutadoubt,isthis,”heleanedforward,waggingaforefingerimpressively,“ThyrzaGreydoesknow—beforehand—whensomeoneisgoingtodie.It’sagift.Andshehasit.”
Heleanedback,studyingme.Iwaited.
“Let’sassumeahypotheticalcase.Someone,yourselforanother,wouldlikeverymuchtoknowwhen—let’ssayGreat-AuntEliza—isgoingtodie.It’suseful,youmustadmit,toknowsomethinglikethat.Nothingunkindinit,nothingwrong—justamatterofbusinessconvenience.Whatplanstomake?Willtherebe,shallwesay,ausefulsumofmoneycominginbynextNovember?Ifyouknewthat,definitely,youmighttakeupsomevaluableoption.Deathissuchachancymatter.DearoldElizamightlive,peppedupbydoctors,foranothertenyears.You’dbedelighted,ofcourse,you’refondofthedearoldgirl,buthowusefulitwouldbetoknow.”
Hepausedandthenleanedalittlefartherforward.
“Nowthat’swhereIcomein.I’mabettingman.I’llbetonanything—naturallyonmyownterms.Youcometoseeme.Naturallyyouwouldn’twanttobetontheoldgirl’spassingout.Thatwouldberepulsivetoyourfinerfeelings.Soweputitthisway.YoubetmeacertainsumthatAuntElizawillbehaleandheartystillnextChristmas,Ibetyouthatshewon’t.”
Thebeadyeyeswereonme,watching….
“Nothingagainstthat,isthere?Simple.Wehaveanargumentonthesubject.IsayAuntE.islinedupfordeath,yousaysheisn’t.Wedrawupacontractandsignit.Igiveyouadate.IsaythatafortnighteitherwayfromthatdateAuntieE.’sfuneralservicewillberead.Yousayitwon’t.Ifyou’reright—Ipayyou.Ifyou’rewrong,you—payme!”
Ilookedathim.Itriedtosummonupthefeelingsofamanwhowantsaricholdladyoutoftheway.Ishiftedittoablackmailer.Easiertothrowoneselfintothatpart.Somemanhadbeenbleedingmeforyears.Icouldn’tbearitanylonger.Iwantedhimdead.Ihadn’tthenervetokillhimmyself,butI’dgiveanything—yes,anything—”
Ispoke—myvoicewashoarse.Iwasactingthepartwithsomeconfidence.
“Whatterms?”
Mr.Bradley’smannerunderwentarapidchange.Itwasgay,almostfacetious.
“That’swherewecamein,isn’tit?Orratherwhereyoucamein,haha.‘Howmuch?’yousaid.Reallyquitestartledme.Neverheardanyonecometothepointsosoon.”
“Whatterms?”
“Thatdepends.Itdependsonseveraldifferentfactors.Roughlyitdependsontheamountthereisatstake.Insomecasesitdependsonthefundsavailabletotheclient.Aninconvenienthusband—orablackmailerorsomethingofthatkind—woulddependonhowmuchmyclientcouldaffordtopay.Idon’t—letmemakethatclear—betwithpoorclients—exceptinthekindofcaseIhavejustbeenoutlining.InthatcaseitwoulddependontheamountofAuntEliza’sestate.Termsarebymutualagreement.Webothwantsomethingoutofit,don’twe?Theodds,however,workoutusuallyatfivehundredtoone.”
“Fivehundredtoone?That’sprettysteep.”
“Mywagerisprettysteep.IfAuntElizawereprettywellbookedforthetomb,you’dknowitalready,andyouwouldn’tcometome.Toprophesysomebody’sdeathtowithintwoweeksmeansprettylongodds.Fivethousandpoundstoonehundredisn’tatalloutoftheway.”
“Supposingyoulose?”
Mr.Bradleyshruggedhisshoulders.
“That’sjusttoobad.Ipayup.”
“AndifIlose,Ipayup.SupposingIdon’t?”
Mr.Bradleyleanedbackinhischair.Hehalfclosedhiseyes.
“Ishouldn’tadvisethat,”hesaidsoftly.“Ireallyshouldn’t.”
Despitethesofttone,Ifeltafaintshiverpassoverme.Hehadutterednodirectmenace.Butthemenacewasthere.
Igotup.Isaid:
“I—Imustthinkitover.”
Mr.Bradleywasoncemorehispleasantandurbaneself.
“Certainlythinkitover.Neverrushintoanything.Ifyoudecidetodobusiness,comeback,andwewillgointothematterfully.Takeyourtime.Nohurryintheworld.Takeyourtime.”
Iwentoutwiththosewordsechoinginmyears.
“Takeyourtime….”
Thirteen
MarkEasterbrook’sNarrative
IapproachedmytaskofinterviewingMrs.Tuckertonwiththeutmostreluctance.GoadedtoitbyGinger,Iwasstillfarfromconvincedofitswisdom.TobeginwithIfeltmyselfunfittedforthetaskIhadsetmyself.Iwasdoubtfulofmyabilitytoproducetheneededreaction,andIwasacutelyconsciousofmasqueradingunderfalsecolours.
Ginger,withthealmostterrifyingefficiencywhichshewasabletodisplaywhenitsuitedher,hadbriefedmebytelephone.
“Itwillbequitesimple.It’saNashhouse.Nottheusualstyleoneassociateswithhim.Oneofhisnear-Gothicflightsoffancy.”
“AndwhyshouldIwanttoseeit?”
“You’reconsideringwritinganarticleorabookontheinfluencesthatcausefluctuationofanarchitect’sstyle.Thatsortofthing.”
“Soundsverybogustome,”Isaid.
“Nonsense,”saidGingerrobustly.“Whenyougetontolearnedsubjects,orartyones,themostincredibletheoriesarepropoundedandwrittenabout,intheutmostseriousness,bythemostunlikelypeople.Icouldquoteyouchaptersoftosh.”
“That’swhyyouwouldreallybeamuchbetterpersontodothisthanIam.”
“That’swhereyouarewrong,”Gingertoldme.“Mrs.T.canlookyouupinWho’sWhoandbeproperlyimpressed.Shecan’tlookmeupthere.”
Iremainedunconvinced,thoughtemporarilydefeated.
OnmyreturnfrommyincredibleinterviewwithMr.Bradley,GingerandIhadputourheadstogether.Itwaslessincredibletoherthanitwastome.Itaffordedher,indeed,adistinctsatisfaction.
“Itputsanendtowhetherwe’reimaginingthingsornot,”shepointedout.“Nowweknowthatanorganisationdoesexistforgettingunwantedpeopleoutoftheway.”
“Bysupernaturalmeans!”
“You’resohideboundinyourthinking.It’sallthatwispinessandthefalsescarabsthatSybilwears.Itputsyouoff.AndifMr.Bradleyhadturnedouttobeaquackpractitioner,orapseudoastrologer,you’dstillbeunconvinced.Butsinceheturnsouttobeanastydown-to-earthlittlelegalcrook—orthat’stheimpressionyougiveme—”
“Nearenough,”Isaid.
“Thenthatmakesthewholethingcomeintoline.Howeverphonyitmaysound,thosethreewomenatthePaleHorsehavegotholdofsomethingthatworks.”
“Ifyou’resoconvinced,thenwhyMrs.Tuckerton?”
“Extracheck,”saidGinger.“WeknowwhatThyrzaGreysaysshecando.Weknowhowthefinancialsideisworked.Weknowalittleaboutthreeofthevictims.Wewanttoknowmoreabouttheclientangle.”
“AndsupposeMrs.Tuckertonshowsnosignsofhavingbeenaclient?”
“Thenwe’llhavetoinvestigateelsewhere.”
“Ofcourse,Imayboobit,”Isaidgloomily.
GingersaidthatImustthinkbetterofmyselfthanthat.
SohereIwas,arrivingatthefrontdoorofCarrawayPark.ItcertainlydidnotlooklikemypreconceivedideaofaNashhouse.Inmanywaysitwasanearcastleofmodestproportions.GingerhadpromisedtosupplymewitharecentbookonNasharchitecture,butithadnotarrivedintime,soIwasheresomewhatinadequatelybriefed.
Irangthebell,andaratherseedy-lookingmaninanalpacacoatopenedthedoor.
“Mr.Easterbrook?”hesaid.“Mrs.Tuckerton’sexpectingyou.”
Heshowedmeintoanelaboratelyfurnisheddrawingroom.Theroommadeadisagreeableimpressionuponme.Everythinginitwasexpensive,butchosenwithouttaste.Lefttoitself,itcouldhavebeenaroomofpleasantproportions.Therewereoneortwogoodpictures,andagreatmanybadones.Therewasagreatdealofyellowbrocade.FurthercogitationswereinterruptedbythearrivalofMrs.Tuckertonherself.Iarosewithdifficultyfromthedepthsofabrightyellowbrocadesofa.
Idon’tknowwhatIhadexpected,butIsufferedacompletereversaloffeeling.Therewasnothingsinisterhere;merelyacompletelyordinaryyoungtomiddle-agedwoman.Notaveryinterestingwoman,andnot,Ithought,aparticularlynicewoman.Thelips,inspiteofagenerousapplicationoflipstick,werethinandbad-tempered.Thechinrecededalittle.Theeyeswerepaleblueandgavetheimpressionthatshewasappraisingthepriceofeverything.Shewasthesortofwomanwhoundertippedportersandcloakroomattendants.Therearealotofwomenofhertypetobemetintheworld,thoughmainlylessexpensivelydressed,andnotsowellmade-up.
“Mr.Easterbrook?”Shewasclearlydelightedbymyvisit.Sheevengushedalittle.“I’msopleasedtomeetyou.Fancyyourbeinginterestedinthishouse.OfcourseIknewitwasbuiltbyJohnNash,myhusbandtoldmeso,butIneverrealisedthatitwouldbeinterestingtoapersonlikeyou!”
“Well,yousee,Mrs.Tuckerton,it’snotquitehisusualstyle,andthatmakesitinterestingto—er—”
Shesavedmethetroubleofcontinuing.
“I’mafraidI’mterriblystupidaboutthatsortofthing—architecture,Imean,andarchaeologyandallthat.Butyoumustn’tmindmyignorance—”
Ididn’tmindatall.Ipreferredit.
“Ofcourseallthatsortofthingisterriblyinteresting,”saidMrs.Tuckerton.
Isaidthatwespecialists,onthecontrary,wereusuallyterriblydullandveryboringonourownparticularsubject
Mrs.Tuckertonsaidshewassurethatthatwasn’ttrue,andwouldIliketohaveteafirstandseethehouseafterwards,orseeroundthehouseandthenhavetea.
Ihadn’tbargainedfortea—myappointmenthadbeenforthreethirty,butIsaidthatperhapsthehousefirst.
Sheshowedmeround,chattingvivaciouslymostofthetime,andthusrelievingmeofutteringanyarchitecturaljudgements.
Itwaslucky,shesaid,thatI’dcomenow.Thehousewasupforsale—“It’stoobigforme—sincemyhusband’sdeath”—andshebelievedtherewasapurchaseralready,thoughtheagentshadonlyhaditontheirbooksforjustoveraweek.
“Iwouldn’thavelikedyoutoseeitwhenitwasempty.Ithinkahouseneedstobelivedin,ifoneisreallytoappreciateit,don’tyou,Mr.Easterbrook?”
Iwouldhavepreferredthishouseunlivedin,andunfurnished,butnaturallyIcouldnotsayso.Iaskedherifshewasgoingtoremainintheneighborhood.
“Really,I’mnotquitesure.Ishalltravelalittlefirst.Getintothesunshine.Ihatethismiserableclimate.ActuallyIthinkIshallwinterinEgypt.Iwastheretwoyearsago.Suchawonderfulcountry,butIexpectyouknowallaboutit.”
IknewnothingaboutEgyptandsaidso.
“Iexpectyou’rejustbeingmodest,”shesaidgailyandvaguely.“Thisisthediningroom.It’soctagonal.That’sright,isn’tit?Nocorners.”
Isaidshewasquiterightandpraisedtheproportions.
Presently,thetourwascompleted,wereturnedtothedrawingroomandMrs.Tuckertonrangfortea.Itwasbroughtinbytheseedy-lookingmanservant.TherewasavastVictoriansilverteapotwhichcouldhavedonewithaclean.
Mrs.Tuckertonsighedashelefttheroom.
“Aftermyhusbanddied,themarriedcouplehehadhadfornearlytwentyyearsinsistedonleaving.Theysaidtheywereretiring,butIheardafterwardsthattheytookanotherpost.Averyhighly-paidone.Ithinkit’sabsurd,myself,topaythesehighwages.Whenyouthinkwhatservants’boardandlodgingcosts—tosaynothingoftheirlaundry.”
Yes,Ithought,mean.Thepaleeyes,thetightmouth—avaricewasthere.
TherewasnodifficultyingettingMrs.Tuckertontotalk.Shelikedtalking.Sheliked,inparticular,talkingaboutherself.Presently,bylisteningwithcloseattention,andutteringanencouragingwordnowandthen,IknewagooddealaboutMrs.Tuckerton.Iknew,too,morethanshewasconsciousoftellingme.
IknewthatshehadmarriedThomasTuckerton,awidower,fiveyearsago.Shehadbeen“much,muchyoungerthanhewas.”Shehadmethimatabigseasidehotelwhereshehadbeenabridgehostess.Shewasnotawarethatthatlastfacthadslippedout.Hehadhadadaughteratschoolnearthere—“sodifficultforamantoknowwhattodowithagirlwhenhetakesherout.
“PoorThomas,hewassolonely…Hisfirstwifehaddiedsomeyearsbackandhemissedherverymuch.”
Mrs.Tuckerton’spictureofherselfcontinued.Agraciouskindlywomantakingpityonthisageinglonelyman.Hisdeterioratinghealthandherdevotion.
“Though,ofcourse,inthelaststagesofhisillnessIcouldn’treallyhaveanyfriendsofmyown.”
Hadtherebeen,Iwondered,somemenfriendswhomThomasTuckertonhadthoughtundesirable?Itmightexplainthetermsofhiswill.
GingerhadlookedupthetermsofhiswillformeatSomersetHouse.
Bequeststooldservants,toacoupleofgodchildren,andthenprovisionforhiswife—sufficient,butnotundulygenerous.Asumintrust,theincometobeenjoyedduringherlifetime.Theresidueofhisestate,whichranintoasumofsixfigures,tohisdaughterThomasinaAnn,tobehersabsolutelyattheageoftwenty-one,oronhermarriage.Ifshediedbeforetwenty-oneunmarried,themoneywastogotoherstepmother.Therehadbeen,itseemed,noothermembersofthefamily.
Theprize,Ithought,hadbeenabigone.AndMrs.Tuckertonlikedmoney…Itstuckoutalloverher.Shehadneverhadanymoneyofherown,Iwassure,tillshemarriedherelderlywidower.Andthen,perhaps,ithadgonetoherhead.Hampered,inherlifewithaninvalidhusband,shehadlookedforwardtothetimewhenshewouldbefree,stillyoung,andrichbeyondherwildestdreams.
Thewill,perhaps,hadbeenadisappointment.Shehaddreamedofsomethingbetterthanamoderateincome.Shehadlookedforwardtoexpensivetravel,toluxurycruises,toclothes,jewels—orpossiblytothesheerpleasureofmoneyitself—mountingupinthebank.
Insteadthegirlwastohaveallthatmoney!Thegirlwastobeawealthyheiress.Thegirlwho,verylikely,haddislikedherstepmotherandshownitwiththecarelessruthlessnessofyouth.Thegirlwastobetherichone—unless….
Unless…?Wasthatenough?CouldIreallybelievethattheblonde-hairedmeretriciouscreaturetalkingplatitudessogliblywascapableofseekingoutthePaleHorse,andarrangingforayounggirltodie?
No,Icouldn’tbelieveit….
Nevertheless,Imustdomystuff.Isaid,ratherabruptly:
“Ibelieve,youknow,Imetyourdaughter—stepdaughter—once.”
Shelookedatmeinmildsurprise,thoughwithoutmuchinterest.
“Thomasina?Didyou?”
“Yes,inChelsea.”
“Oh,Chelsea!Yes,itwouldbe…”Shesighed.“Thesegirlsnowadays.Sodifficult.Onedoesn’tseemtohaveanycontroloverthem.Itupsetherfatherverymuch.Icouldn’tdoanythingaboutit,ofcourse.SheneverlistenedtoanythingIsaid.”Shesighedagain.“Shewasnearlygrown-up,youknow,whenwemarried.Astepmother—”sheshookherhead.
“Alwaysadifficultposition,”Isaidsympathetically.
“Imadeallowances—didmybestineveryway.”
“I’msureyoudid.”
“Butitwasabsolutelynouse.OfcourseTomwouldn’tallowhertobeactuallyrudetome,butshesailedasneartothewindasshecould.Shereallymadelifequiteimpossible.Inawayitwasarelieftomewhensheinsistedonleavinghome,butIcouldquiteunderstandhowTomfeltaboutit.Shegotinwithamostundesirableset.”
“I—rathergatheredthat,”Isaid.
“PoorThomasina,”saidMrs.Tuckerton.Sheadjustedastraylockofblondehair.Thenshelookedatme.“Oh,butperhapsyoudon’tknow.Shediedaboutamonthago.Encephalitis—verysudden.It’sadiseasethatattacksyoungpeople,Ibelieve—sosad.”
“Ididknowshewasdead,”Isaid.
Igotup.
“Thankyou,Mrs.Tuckerton,verymuchindeedforshowingmeyourhouse.”Ishookhands.
ThenasImovedaway,Iturnedback.
“Bytheway,”Isaid,“IthinkyouknowthePaleHorse,don’tyou?”
Therewasn’tanydoubtofthereaction.Panic,sheerpanic,showedinthosepaleeyes.Beneaththemakeup,herfacewassuddenlywhiteandafraid.
Hervoicecameshrillandhigh:
“PaleHorse?WhatdoyoumeanbythePaleHorse?Idon’tknowanythingaboutthePaleHorse.”
Iletmildsurpriseshowinmyeyes.
“Oh—mymistake.There’saveryinterestingoldpub—inMuchDeeping.Iwasdowntheretheotherdayandwastakentoseeit.It’sbeencharminglyconverted,keepingalltheatmosphere.Icertainlythoughtyournamewasmentioned—butperhapsitwasyourstepdaughterwhohadbeendownthere—orsomeoneelseofthesamename.”Ipaused.“Theplacehasgot—quiteareputation.”
Ienjoyedmyexitline.InoneofthemirrorsonthewallIsawMrs.Tuckerton’sfacereflected.Shewasstaringafterme.Shewasvery,veryfrightenedandIsawjusthowshewouldlookinyearstocome…Itwasnotapleasantsight
Fourteen
MarkEasterbrook’sNarrative
I
“Sonowwe’requitesure,”saidGinger.
“Weweresurebefore.”
“Yes—reasonablyso.Butthisdoesclinchit.”
Iwassilentforamomentortwo.IwasvisualisingMrs.TuckertonjourneyingtoBirmingham.EnteringtheMunicipalSquareBuildings—meetingMr.Bradley.Hernervousapprehension…hisreassuringbonhomie.Hisskilfulunderliningofthelackofrisk.(HewouldhavehadtounderlinethatveryhardwithMrs.Tuckerton.)Icouldseehergoingaway,notcommittingherself.Lettingtheideatakerootinhermind.Perhapsshewenttoseeherstepdaughter,orherstepdaughtercamehomeforaweekend.Therecouldhavebeentalk,hintsofmarriage.AndallthetimethethoughtoftheMONEY—notjustalittlemoney,notamiserlypittance—butlotsofmoney,bigmoney,moneythatenabledyoutodoeverythingyouhadeverwanted!Andallgoingtothisdegenerate,ill-manneredgirl,slouchingaboutinthecoffeebarsofChelseainherjeansandhersloppyjumpers,withherundesirabledegeneratefriends.Whyshouldagirllikethat,agirlwhowasnogoodandwouldneverbeanygood,haveallthatbeautifulmoney?
Andso—anothervisittoBirmingham.Morecaution,morereassurance.Finally,adiscussiononterms.Ismiledinvoluntarily.Mr.Bradleywouldnothavehaditallhisownway.Shewouldhavebeenahardbargainer.Butintheend,thetermshadbeenagreed,somedocumentdulysigned,andthenwhat?
Thatwaswhereimaginationstopped.Thatwaswhatwedidn’tknow.
IcameoutofmymeditationtoseeGingerwatchingme.
Sheasked:“Gotitallworkedout?”
“HowdidyouknowwhatIwasdoing?”
“I’mbeginningtoknowthewayyourmindworks.Youwereworkingitout,weren’tyou,followingher—toBirminghamandalltherestofit?”
“Yes.ButIwasbroughtupshort.AtthemomentwhenshehadsettledthingsinBirmingham—Whathappensnext?”
Welookedateachother.
“Soonerorlater,”saidGinger,“someonehasgottofindoutexactlywhathappensatthePaleHorse.”
“How?”
“Idon’tknow…Itwon’tbeeasy.Nobodywho’sactuallybeenthere,who’sactuallydoneit,willevertell.Atthesametime,they’retheonlypeoplewhocantell.It’sdifficult…Iwonder….”
“Wecouldgotothepolice?”Isuggested.
“Yes.Afterall,we’vegotsomethingfairlydefinitenow.Enoughtoactupon,doyouthink?”
Ishookmyheaddoubtfully.
“Evidenceofintent.Butisthatenough?It’sthisdeathwishnonsense.Oh,”Iforestalledherinterruption,“itmayn’tbenonsense—butitwouldsoundlikeitincourt.We’venoidea,even,ofwhattheactualprocedureis.”
“Well,then,we’vegottoknow.Buthow?”
“Onewouldhavetosee—orhear—withone’sowneyesandears.Butthere’sabsolutelynoplaceonecouldhideoneselfinthatgreatbarnofaroom—andIsupposethat’swhereit—whatever‘it’is—musttakeplace.”
Gingersatupverystraight,gaveherheadakindoftoss,ratherlikeanenergeticterrier,andsaid:
“There’sonlyonewaytofindoutwhatdoesreallyhappen.You’vegottobeagenuineclient.”
Istaredather.
“Agenuineclient?”
“Yes.YouorI,itdoesn’tmatterwhich,hasgottowantsomebodyputoutoftheway.OneofushasgottogotoBradleyandfixitup.”
“Idon’tlikeit,”Isaidsharply.
“Why?”
“Well—itopensupdangerouspossibilities.”
“Forus?”
“Perhaps.ButIwasreallythinkingaboutthe—victim.We’vegottohaveavictim—we’vegottogivehimaname.Itcan’tbejustinvention.Theymightcheckup—infact,they’dalmostcertainlycheckup,don’tyouagree?”
Gingerthoughtaminuteandthennodded
“Yes.Thevictim’sgottobearealpersonwitharealaddress.”
“That’swhatIdon’tlike,”Isaid.
“Andwe’vegottohavearealreasonforgettingridofhim.”
Weweresilentforamoment,consideringthisaspectofthesituation.
“Theperson,whoeveritwas,wouldhavetoagree,”Isaidslowly.“It’salottoask.”
“Thewholesetuphasgottobegood,”saidGinger,thinkingitout.“Butthere’sonething,youwereabsolutelyrightinwhatyouweresayingtheotherday.Theweaknessofthewholethingisthatthey’reinacleftstick.Thebusinesshasgottobesecret—butnottoosecret.Possibleclientshavegottobeabletohearaboutit.”
“Whatpuzzlesme,”Isaid,“isthatthepolicedon’tseemtohaveheardaboutit.Afterall,they’reusuallyawareofwhatkindofcriminalactivitiesaregoingon.”
“Yes,butIthinkthatthereasonforthatis,thatthisisineverysenseoftheword,anamateurshow.It’snotprofessional.Noprofessionalcriminalsareemployedorinvolved.It’snotlikehiringgangsterstobumppeopleoff.It’sall—private.”
IsaidthatIthoughtshehadsomethingthere.
Gingerwenton:
“Supposenowthatyou,orI(we’llexaminebothpossibilities),aredesperatetogetridofsomeone.NowwhoistherethatyouandIcouldwanttodoawaywith?There’smydearoldUncleMervyn—I’llcomeintoaverynicepacketwhenhepopsoff.IandsomecousininAustraliaaretheonlyonesleftofthefamily.Sothere’samotivethere.Buthe’soverseventyandmoreorlessgaga,soitwouldreallyseemmoresensibleformetowaitfornaturalcauses—unlessIwasinsometerribleholeformoney—andthatreallywouldbequitedifficulttofake.Besides,he’sapet,andI’mveryfondofhim,andgagaornotgaga,hequiteenjoyslife,andIwouldn’twanttodeprivehimofaminuteofit—orevenrisksuchathing!Whataboutyou?Haveyougotanyrelativeswhoaregoingtoleaveyoumoney?”
Ishookmyhead.
“Nooneatall.”
“Bother.Itcouldbeblackmail,perhaps?Thatwouldtakealotoffixing,though.You’renotreallyvulnerableenough.IfyouwereanM.P.,orintheForeignOffice,oranupandcomingMinisteritwouldbedifferent.Thesamewithme.Fiftyyearsagoitwouldhavebeeneasy.Compromisingletters,orphotographsinthealtogether,butreallynowadays,whocares?OnecanbeliketheDukeofWellingtonandsay‘Publishandbedamned!’Well,now,whatelseisthere?Bigamy?”Shefixedmewithareproachfulstare.“Whatapityitisyou’veneverbeenmarried.Wecouldhavecookedsomethingupifyouhad.”
Someexpressiononmyfacemusthavegivenmeaway.Gingerwasquick.
“I’msorry,”shesaid.“HaveIrakedupsomethingthathurts?”
“No,”Isaid.“Itdoesn’thurt.Itwasalongtimeago,Iratherdoubtifthere’sanyonenowwhoknowsaboutit.”
“Youmarriedsomeone?”
“Yes.WhilstIwasattheUniversity.Wekeptitdark.Shewasn’t—well,mypeoplewouldhavecutuprough.Iwasn’tevenofage.Weliedaboutourages.”
Iwassilentamomentortwo,relivingthepast.
“Itwouldn’thavelasted,”Isaidslowly.“Iknowthatnow.Shewasprettyandshecouldbeverysweet…but…”
“Whathappened?”
“WewenttoItalyinthelongvacation.Therewasanaccident—acaraccident.Shewaskilledoutright.”
“Andyou?”
“Iwasn’tinthecar.Shewas—withafriend.”
Gingergavemeaquickglance.Ithinksheunderstoodthewayithadbeen.TheshockofmydiscoverythatthegirlIhadmarriedwasnotthekindthatmakesafaithfulwife.
Gingerrevertedtopracticalmatters.
“YouweremarriedinEngland?”
“Yes.RegistryofficeinPeterborough.”
“ButshediedinItaly?”
“Yes.”
“SotherewillbenorecordofherdeathinEngland?”
“No.”
“Thenwhatmoredoyouwant?It’sananswertoprayer!Nothingcouldbesimpler!You’redesperatelyinlovewithsomeoneandyouwanttomarryher—butyoudon’tknowwhetheryourwifeisstillalive.You’vepartedyearsagoandneverheardfromhersince.Dareyouriskit?Whileyou’rethinkingitout,suddenreappearanceofthewife!Sheturnsupoutoftheblue,refusestogiveyouadivorce,andthreatenstogotoyouryoungwomanandspillthebeans.”
“Who’smyyoungwoman?”Iasked,slightlyconfused.“You?”
Gingerlookedshocked.
“Certainlynot.I’mquitethewrongtype—I’dprobablygoandliveinsinwithyou.No,youknowquitewellwhoImean—andshe’llbeexactlyright,Ishouldsay.Thestatuesquebrunetteyougoaroundwith.Veryhighbrowandserious.”
“HermiaRedcliffe?”
“That’sright.Yoursteady.”
“Whotoldyouabouther?”
“Poppy,ofcourse.She’srich,too,isn’tshe?”
“She’sextremelywell-off.Butreally—”
“Allright,allright.I’mnotsayingyou’remarryingherforhermoney.You’renotthekind.ButnastymindslikeBradley’scouldeasilythinkso…Verywellthen.Here’stheposition.YouareabouttopopthequestiontoHermiawhenupturnstheunwantedwifefromthepast.ShearrivesinLondonandthefat’sinthefire.Youurgeadivorce—shewon’tplay.She’svindictive.Andthen—youhearofthePaleHorse.I’llbetanythingyoulikethatThyrza,andthathalf-wittedpeasantBella,thoughtthatthatwaswhyyoucamethatday.Theytookitasatentativeapproach,andthat’swhyThyrzawassoforthcoming.Itwasasalestalktheyweregivingyou.”
“Itcouldhavebeen,Isuppose.”Iwentoverthatdayinmymind.
“AndyourgoingtoBradleysoonafterfitsinperfectly.You’rehooked!You’reaprospect—”
Shepausedtriumphantly.Therewassomethinginwhatshesaid—butIdidn’tquitesee….
“Istillthink,”Isaid,“thatthey’llinvestigateverycarefully.”
“Sureto,”Gingeragreed.
“It’sallverywelltoinventafictitiouswife,resurrectedfromthepast—butthey’llwantdetails—whereshelives—allthat.AndwhenItrytohedge—”
“Youwon’tneedtohedge.Todothethingproperlythewifehasgottobethere—andshewillbethere!—
“Braceyourself,”saidGinger.“I’myourwife!”
II
Istaredather.Goggled,Isuppose,wouldbeabetterterm.Iwonder,really,thatshedidn’tburstoutlaughing.
Iwasjustrecoveringmyselfwhenshespokeagain.
“There’snoneedtobesotakenaback,”shesaid.“It’snotaproposal.”
Ifoundmytongue.
“Youdon’tknowwhatyou’resaying.”
“OfcourseIdo.WhatI’msuggestingisperfectlyfeasible—andithastheadvantageofnotdraggingsomeinnocentpersonintopossibledanger.”
“It’sputtingyourselfindanger.”
“That’smylookout.”
“No,itisn’t.Andanyway,itwouldn’tholdwaterforamoment.”
“Ohyes,itwould.I’vebeenthinkingitout.Iarriveatafurnishedflat,withasuitcaseortwowithforeignlabels.ItaketheflatinthenameofMrs.Easterbrook—andwhoonearthistosayI’mnotMrs.Easterbrook?”
“Anyonewhoknowsyou.”
“Anyonewhoknowsmewon’tseeme.I’mawayfrommyjob,ill.Aspotofhairdye—whatwasyourwife,bytheway,darkorblonde?—notthatitreallymatters.”
“Dark,”Isaidmechanically.
“Good,I’dhateableach.Differentclothesandlotsofmakeup,andmybestfriendwouldn’tlookatmetwice!Andsinceyouhaven’thadawifeinevidenceforthelastfifteenyearsorso—noone’slikelytospotthatI’mnother.WhyshouldanyoneinthePaleHorsedoubtthatI’mwhoIsayIam?Ifyou’repreparedtosignpaperswageringlargesumsofmoneythatI’llstayalive,there’snotlikelytobeanydoubtastomybeingthebonafidearticle.You’renotconnectedwiththepoliceinanyway—you’reagenuineclient.TheycanverifythemarriagebylookingupoldrecordsinSomersetHouse.TheycancheckuponyourfriendshipwithHermiaandallthat—sowhyshouldtherebyanydoubts?”
“Youdon’trealisethedifficulties—therisk.”
“Risk—Hell!”saidGinger.“I’dlovetohelpyouwinamiserlyhundredpoundsorwhateveritisfromthatsharkBradley.”
Ilookedather.Ilikedherverymuch…Herredhair,herfreckles,hergallantspirit.ButIcouldn’tlethertaketherisksshewantedtotake.
“Ican’tstandforit,Ginger,”Isaid.“Suppose—somethinghappened.”
“Tome?”
“Yes.”
“Isn’tthatmyaffair?”
“No.Igotyouinonallthis.”
Shenoddedthoughtfully.
“Yes,perhapsyoudid.Butwhogottherefirstdoesn’tmattermuch.We’rebothinitnow—andwe’vegottodosomething.I’mbeingseriousnow,Mark.I’mnotpretendingthisisalljustfun.Ifwhatwebelievetobetrueistrue,it’sasickeningbeastlything.Andit’sgottobestopped!Yousee,it’snothot-bloodedmurder,fromhateorjealousy;it’snotevenmurderfromcupidity,thehumanfrailtyofmurderforgainbuttakingtheriskyourself.It’smurderasabusiness—murderthattakesnoaccountofwhoorwhatthevictimmaybe.
“Thatis,”sheadded,“ifthewholethingistrue?”
Shelookedatmeinmomentarydoubt.
“Itistrue,”Isaid.“That’swhyI’mafraidforyou.”
Gingerputbothelbowsonthetable,andbegantoargue.
Wethrasheditout,toandfro,ding-dong,repeatingourselveswhilstthehandsoftheclockonmymantelpiecemovedslowlyround.
FinallyGingersummedup.
“It’slikethis.I’mforewarnedandforearmed.Iknowwhatsomeoneistryingtodotome.AndIdon’tbelieveforonemomentshecandoit!Ifeveryone’sgota‘desirefordeath’mineisn’twelldeveloped!I’vegoodhealth.AndIsimplycannotbelievethatI’lldevelopgallstones,ormeningitisjustbecause—oldThyrzadrawspentagramsonthefloor,orSybilthrowsatrance—orwhateveritisthosewomendodo.”
“Bellasacrificesawhitecock,Ishouldimagine,”Isaidthoughtfully.
“Youmustadmitit’sallterriblybogus!”
“Wedon’tknowwhatactuallydoeshappen,”Ipointedout.
“No.That’swhyit’simportanttofindout.Butdoyoubelieve,reallybelieve,thatbecauseofwhatthreewomencandointhebarnofthePaleHorse,I,inaflatinLondon,willdevelopsomefataldisease?Youcan’t!”
“No,”Isaid.“Ican’tbelieveit.
“But,”Iadded.“Ido….”
Welookedateachother.
“Yes,”saidGinger.“That’sourweakness.”
“Lookhere,”Isaid.“Let’smakeittheotherwayround.LetmebetheoneinLondon.Youbetheclient.Wecancookupsomething—”
ButGingerwasvigorouslyshakingherhead.
“No,Mark,”shesaid.“Itwon’tworkthatway.Forseveralreasons.ThemostimportantisthatI’mknownatthePaleHorsealready—asmycarefreeself.TheycouldgetallthedopeaboutmylifefromRhoda—andthere’snothingthere.Butyouareintheidealpositionalready—you’reanervousclient,sniffingaround,notableyettocommityourself.No,it’sgottobethisway.”
“Idon’tlikeit.Idon’tliketothinkofyou—aloneinsomeplaceunderafalsename—withnobodytokeepaneyeonyou.Ithink,beforeweembarkonthis,weoughttogotothepolice—now—beforewetryanythingelse.”
“I’magreeabletothat,”saidGingerslowly.“InfactIthinkit’swhatyououghttodo.You’vegotsomethingtogoon.Whatpolice?ScotlandYard?”
“No,”Isaid.“IthinkDivisionalDetective-InspectorLejeuneisthebestbet.”
Fifteen
MarkEasterbrook’sNarrative
IlikedDivisionalDetective-InspectorLejeuneatfirstsight.Hehadanairofquietability.Ithought,too,thathewasanimaginativeman—thekindofmanwhowouldbewillingtoconsiderpossibilitiesthatwerenotorthodox.
Hesaid:
“Dr.Corriganhastoldmeofhismeetingwithyou.He’stakenagreatinterestinthisbusinessfromthefirst.FatherGorman,ofcourse,wasverywellknownandrespectedinthedistrict.Nowyousayyouhavesomespecialinformationforus?”
“Itconcerns,”Isaid,“aplacecalledthePaleHorse.”
“In,Iunderstand,avillagecalledMuchDeeping?”
“Yes.”
“Tellmeaboutit.”
ItoldhimofthefirstmentionofthePaleHorseattheFantasie.ThenIdescribedmyvisittoRhoda,andmyintroductiontothe“threeweirdsisters.”Irelated,asaccuratelyasIcould,ThyrzaGrey’sconversationonthatparticularafternoon.
“Andyouwereimpressedbywhatshesaid?”
Ifeltembarrassed.
“Well,notreally.Imean,Ididn’tseriouslybelieve—”
“Didn’tyou,Mr.Easterbrook?Iratherthinkyoudid.”
“Isupposeyou’reright.Onejustdoesn’tlikeadmittinghowcredulousoneis.”
Lejeunesmiled.
“Butyou’veleftsomethingout,haven’tyou?YouwerealreadyinterestedwhenyoucametoMuchDeeping—why?”
“Ithinkitwasthegirllookingsoscared.”
“Theyoungladyintheflowershop?”
“Yes.She’dthrownoutherremarkaboutthePaleHorsesocasually.Herbeingsoscaredseemedtounderlinethefactthattherewas—well,somethingtobescaredabout.AndthenImetDr.Corriganandhetoldmeaboutthelistofnames.TwoofthemIalreadyknew.Bothweredead.Athirdnameseemedfamiliar.AfterwardsIfoundthatshe,too,haddied.”
“ThatwouldbeMrs.Delafontaine?”
“Yes.”
“Goon.”
“ImadeupmymindthatI’dgottofindoutmoreaboutthisbusiness.”
“Andyousetaboutit.How?”
ItoldhimofmycallonMrs.Tuckerton.FinallyIcametoMr.BradleyandtheMunicipalSquareBuildingsinBirmingham.
Ihadhisfullinterestnow.Herepeatedthename.
“Bradley,”hesaid.“SoBradley’sinthis?”
“Youknowhim?”
“Ohyes,weknowallaboutMr.Bradley.He’sgivenusalotoftrouble.He’sasmoothdealer,anadeptatneverdoinganythingthatwecanpinonhim.Heknowseverytrickanddodgeofthelegalgame.He’salwaysjustontherightsideoftheline.He’sthekindofmanwhocouldwriteabooklikethoseoldcookerybooks,“Ahundredwaysofevadingthelaw.”Butmurder,suchathingasorganisedmurder—Ishouldhavesaidthatthatwasrightoffhisbeat.Yes—rightoffhisbeat—”
“NowthatI’vetoldyouaboutourconversation,couldyouactuponit?”
Lejeuneslowlyshookhishead.
“No,wecouldn’tactonit.Tobeginwith,therewerenowitnessestoyourconversation.Itwasjustbetweenthetwoofyouandhecoulddenythewholethingifhewantedto!Apartfromthat,hewasquiterightwhenhetoldyouthatamancanbetonanything.Hebetssomebodywon’tdie—andheloses.Whatistherecriminalaboutthat?UnlesswecanconnectBradleyinsomewaywiththeactualcrimeinquestion—andthat,Iimagine,willnotbeeasy.”
Heleftitwithashrugofhisshoulders.Hepausedaminuteandthensaid,
“Didyou,byanychance,comeacrossamancalledVenableswhenyouweredowninMuchDeeping?”
“Yes,”Isaid,“Idid.Iwastakenovertolunchwithhimoneday.”
“Ah!Whatimpression,ifImayask,didhemakeuponyou?”
“Averypowerfulimpression.He’samanofgreatpersonality.Aninvalid.”
“Yes.Crippledbypolio.”
“Hecanonlymoveaboutinawheeledchair.Buthisdisabilityseemstohaveheightenedhisdeterminationtoliveandenjoyliving.”
“Tellmeallyoucanabouthim.”
IdescribedVenables’shouse,hisarttreasures,therangeandsweepofhisinterests.
Lejeunesaid:
“It’sapity.”
“Whatisapity?”
Hesaiddrily:“ThatVenablesisacripple.”
“Excuseme,butyouarequitecertainhereallyisacripple?Hecouldn’tbe—well—fakingthewholething?”
“We’reassureofhisbeingacrippleasonecanbesureofanything.HisdoctorisSirWilliamDugdaleofHarleyStreet,amanabsolutelyabovesuspicion.WehaveSirWilliam’sassurancethatthelimbsareatrophied.OurlittleMr.OsbornemaybecertainthatVenableswasthemanhesawwalkingalongBartonStreetthatnight.Buthe’swrong.”
“Isee.”
“AsIsay,it’sapity,becauseifthereissuchathingasanorganisationforprivatemurder,Venablesisthekindofmanwhowouldbecapableofplanningit.”
“Yes;that’swhatIthought.”
WithhisforefingerLejeunetracedinterlacingcirclesonthetableinfrontofhim.Thenhelookedupsharply.
“Let’sassemblewhatwe’vegot;addingtoourownknowledgetheknowledgeyou’vebroughtus.Itseemsreasonablycertainthatthereissomeagencyororganisationthatspecialisesinwhatonemightcalltheremovalofunwantedpersons.There’snothingcrudeabouttheorganisation.Itdoesn’temployordinarythugsorgunmen…There’snothingtoshowthatthevictimshaven’tdiedaperfectlynaturaldeath.Imaysaythatinadditiontothethreedeathsyou’vementioned,we’vegotacertainamountofratherindefiniteinformationaboutsomeoftheothers—deathswerefromnaturalcausesineachinstance,buttherewerethosewhoprofitedbythesedeaths.Noevidence,mindyou.
“It’sclever,damnablyclever,Mr.Easterbrook.Whoeverthoughtitout—andit’sbeenthoughtoutingreatdetail—hasbrains.We’veonlygotholdofafewscatterednames.Heavenknowshowmanymoreofthemthereare—howwidespreadthewholethingmaybe.Andwe’veonlygotthefewnameswehavegot,bytheaccidentofawomanknowingherselftobedying,andwantingtomakeherpeacewithheaven.”
Heshookhisheadangrily,andthenwenton:
“Thiswoman,ThyrzaGrey;yousaysheboastedtoyouaboutherpowers!Well,shecandosowithimpunity.Chargeherwithmurder,putherinthedock,lethertrumpettoheavenandajurythatshehasreleasedpeoplefromthetoilsofthisworldbywillpowerorweavingspells—orwhathaveyou.Shewouldn’tbeguiltyaccordingtothelaw.She’sneverbeennearthepeoplewhodied,we’vecheckedonthat,shehasn’tsentthempoisonedchocolatesthroughthepostoranythingofthatkind.Accordingtoherownaccount,shejustsitsinaroomandemploystelepathy!Why,thewholethingwouldbelaughedoutofCourt!”
Imurmured:
“ButLuandAenguslaughnot.NoranyinthehighcelestialHouse.”
“What’sthat?”
“Sorry.Aquotationfromthe‘ImmortalHour.’”
“Well,it’strueenough.ThedevilsinHellarelaughingbutnottheHostofHeaven.It’san—anevilbusiness,Mr.Easterbrook.”
“Yes,”Isaid.“It’sawordthatwedon’tuseverymuchnowadays.Butit’stheonlywordapplicablehere.That’swhy—”
“Yes?”
Lejeunelookedatmeinquiringly.
Ispokeinarush.“Ithinkthere’sachance—apossiblechance—ofgettingtoknowabitmoreaboutallthis.Iandafriendofminehaveworkedoutaplan.Youmaythinkitverysilly—”
“I’llbethejudgeofthat.”
“Firstofall,Itakeitfromwhatyou’vesaid,thatyouaresureinyourmindthatthereissuchanorganisationastheonewe’vebeendiscussing,andthatitworks?”
“Itcertainlyworks.”
“Butyoudon’tknowhowitworks?Thefirststepsarealreadyformulated.TheindividualIcalltheclienthearsvaguelyaboutthisorganisation,getstoknowmoreaboutit,issenttoMr.BradleyinBirmingham,anddecidesthathewillgoahead.HeentersintosomeagreementwithBradley,andthenis,orsoIpresume,senttothePaleHorse.Butwhathappensafterthat,wedon’tknow!What,exactly,happensatthePaleHorse?Somebody’sgottogoandfindout.”
“Goon.”
“Becauseuntilwedoknow,exactly,whatThyrzaGreyactuallydoes,wecan’tgetanyfurther—Yourpolicedoctor,JimCorrigan,saysthewholeideaispoppycock—butisit?InspectorLejeune,isit?”
Lejeunesighed.
“YouknowwhatI’danswer—whatanysanepersonwouldanswer—theanswerwouldbe‘Yes,ofcourseitis!’—butI’mspeakingnowunofficially.Veryoddthingshavehappenedduringthelasthundredyears.WouldanyonehavebelievedseventyyearsagothatapersoncouldhearBigBenstriketwelveonalittleboxand,afterithadfinishedstriking,hearitagainwithhisownearsthroughthewindow,fromtheactualclockitself—andnojiggerypokery.ButBigBenstruckonce—nottwice—thesoundwasbroughttotheearsofthepersonbytwodifferentkindsofwaves!WouldyoubelieveyoucouldhearamanspeakinginNewYorkinyourowndrawingroom,withoutsomuchasaconnectingwire?Wouldyouhavebelieved—?Oh!adozenotherthings—thingsthatarenoweverydayknowledgethatachildgabblesoff!”
“Inotherwords,anything’spossible?”
“That’swhatImean.IfyouaskmeifThyrzaGreycankillsomeonebyrollinghereyesorgoingintoatrance,orprojectingherwill,Istillsay‘No.’But—I’mnotsure—HowcanIbe?Ifshe’sstumbledonsomething—”
“Yes,”Isaid.“Thesupernaturalseemssupernatural.Butthescienceoftomorrowisthesupernaturaloftoday.”
“I’mnottalkingofficially,mind,”Lejeunewarnedme.
“Man,you’retalkingsense.Andtheansweris,someonehasgottogoandseewhatactuallyhappens.That’swhatIproposetodo—goandsee.”
Lejeunestaredatme.
“Theway’salreadypaved,”Isaid.
Isettleddownthen,andtoldhimaboutit.ItoldhimexactlywhatIandafriendofmineplannedtodo.
Helistened,frowningandpullingathislowerlip.
“Mr.Easterbrook,Iseeyourpoint.Circumstanceshave,sotospeak,givenyoutheentrée.ButIdon’tknowwhetheryoufullyrealisethatwhatyouareproposingtodomaybedangerous—thesearedangerouspeople.Itmaybedangerousforyou—butitwillcertainlybedangerousforyourfriend.”
“Iknow,”Isaid,“Iknow…We’vebeenoveritahundredtimes.Idon’tlikeherplayingthepartshe’sgoingtoplay.Butshe’sdetermined—absolutelydetermined.Damnitall,shewantsto!”
Lejeunesaidunexpectedly:
“She’saredhead,didn’tyousay?”
“Yes,”Isaid,startled.
“Youcanneverarguewitharedhead,”saidLejeune.“Don’tIknowit!”
Iwonderedifhiswifewasone.
Sixteen
MarkEasterbrook’sNarrative
IfeltabsolutelynonervousnessonmysecondvisittoBradley.Infact,Ienjoyedit.
“Thinkyourselfintothepart,”Gingerurgedme,beforeIsetoff,andthatwasexactlywhatItriedtodo.
Mr.Bradleygreetedmewithawelcomingsmile.
“Verypleasedtoseeyou,”hesaid,advancingapodgyhand.“Soyou’vebeenthinkingyourlittleproblemover,haveyou?Well,asIsaid,nohurry.Takeyourtime.”
Isaid,“That’sjustwhatIcan’tdo.It’s—well—it’sratherurgent….”
Bradleylookedmeover.Henotedmynervousmanner,thewayIavoidedhiseyes,theclumsinessofmyhandsasIdroppedmyhat.
“Well,well,”hesaid.“Let’sseewhatwecandoaboutthings.Youwanttohavealittlebetonsomething,isthatit?Nothinglikeasportingfluttertotakeone’smindoffone’s—er—troubles.”
“It’slikethis—”Isaid,andcametoadeadstop.
IleftittoBradleytodohisstuff.Hedidit.
“Iseeyou’reabitnervous,”hesaid.“Cautious.Iapproveofcaution.Neversayanythingyourmothershouldn’thearabout!Now,perhapsyouhavesomeideathatthisofficeofminemighthaveabuginit?”
Ididn’tunderstandandmyfaceshowedit.
“Slangtermforamicrophone,”heexplained.“Taperecorders.Allthatsortofthing.No,Igiveyoumypersonalwordofhonourthatthere’snothingofthatsorthere.Ourconversationwillnotberecordedinanyway.Andifyoudon’tbelieveme,”hiscandourwasquiteengaging—“andwhyshouldyou?—you’veaperfectrighttonameaplaceofyourown,arestaurant,thewaitingroominoneofourdearEnglishrailwaystations;andwe’lldiscussthematterthereinstead.”
IsaidthatIwassureitwasquiteallrighthere.
“Sensible!Thatsortofthingwouldn’tpayus,Iassureyou.NeitheryounorIisgoingtosayawordthat,inlegalparlance,couldbe‘usedagainstus.’Nowlet’sstartthisway.There’ssomethingworryingyou.Youfindmesympatheticandyoufeelyou’dliketotellmeaboutit.I’mamanofexperienceandImightbeabletoadviseyou.Atroublesharedisatroublehalved,astheysay.Supposeweputitlikethat?”
Weputitlikethat,andIstumbledintomystory.
Mr.Bradleywasveryadroit.Heprompted;easedoverdifficultwordsandphrases.Sogoodwashe,thatIfeltnodifficultyatallintellinghimaboutmyyouthfulinfatuationforDoreenandoursecretivemarriage.
“Happenssooften,”hesaid,shakinghishead.“Sooften.Understandable!Youngmanwithideals.Genuinelyprettygirl.Andthereyouare.ManandwifebeforeyoucansayJackRobinson.Andwhatcomesofit?”
Iwentontotellhimwhatcameofit.
HereIwaspurposefullyvagueoverdetails.ThemanIwastryingtopresentwouldnothavegoneintosordiddetails.Ipresentedonlyapictureofdisillusionment—ayoungfoolrealisingthathehadbeenayoungfool.
Iletitbeassumedthattherehadbeenafinalquarrel.IfBradleytookitthatmyyoungwifehadgoneoffwithanotherman,orthattherehadbeenanothermanintheoffingallalong—thatwasgoodenough.
“Butyouknow,”Isaidanxiously,“althoughshewasn’t—well,wasn’tquitewhatIthoughther,shewasreallyaverysweetgirl.I’dneverhavethoughtthatshe’dbelikethis—thatshe’dbehavelikethis,Imean.”
“Whatexactlyhasshebeendoingtoyou?”
Whatmy“wife”haddonetome,Iexplained,wastocomeback.
“Whatdidyouthinkhappenedtoher?”
“Isupposeitseemsextraordinary—butIreallydidn’tthink.Actually,Isuppose,Iassumedshemustbedead.”
Bradleyshookhisheadatme.
“Wishfulthinking.Wishfulthinking.Whyshouldshebedead?”
“Sheneverwroteoranything.Ineverheardfromher.”
“Thetruthisyouwantedtoforgetallabouther.”
Hewasapsychologistinhisway,thisbeady-eyedlittlelawyer.
“Yes,”Isaidgratefully.“Yousee,itwasn’tasthoughIwantedtomarrysomeoneelse.”
“Butyoudonow,eh,isthatit?”
“Well—”Ishowedreluctance.
“Comenow,tellPapa,”saidtheodiousBradley.
Iadmitted,shamefacedly,that,yes,lately,Ihadconsideredmarrying….
ButIstuckmytoesinandrefusedfirmlytogivehimanydetailsaboutthegirlinquestion.Iwasn’tgoingtohaveherbroughtintothis.Iwasn’tgoingtotellhimathingabouther.
Again,Ithinkmyreactionherewasthecorrectone.Hedidnotinsist.Insteadhesaid:
“Quitenatural,mydearsir.You’vegotoveryournastyexperienceinthepast.You’vefoundsomeone,nodoubt,thoroughlysuitedtoyou.Abletoshareyourliterarytastesandyourwayoflife.Atruecompanion.”
IsawthenthatheknewaboutHermia.Itwouldhavebeeneasy.AnyinquiriesmadeaboutmewouldhaverevealedthefactthatIhadonlyoneclosewomanfriend.Bradley,sincereceivingmylettermakingtheappointment,musthavefoundoutallaboutme,allaboutHermia.Hewasfullybriefed.
“Whataboutdivorce?”heasked.“Isn’tthatthenaturalsolution?”
Isaid:“There’snoquestionofdivorce.She—mywife—won’thearofit!”
“Dear,dear.Whatisherattitudetowardsyou,ifImayask?”
“She—er—shewantstocomebacktome.She—she’sutterlyunreasonable.Sheknowsthere’ssomeone,and—and—”
“Actingnasty…Isee…Doesn’tlookasthoughthere’sanywayout,unlessofcourse…Butshe’squiteyoung….”
“She’llliveforyears,”Isaidbitterly.
“Oh,butyouneverknow,Mr.Easterbrook.She’sbeenlivingabroad,yousay?”
“Soshetellsme.Idon’tknowwhereshe’sbeen.”
“MayhavebeenoutEast.Sometimes,youknow,youpickupagermoutinthoseparts—dormantforyears!Andthenyoucamebackhome,andsuddenlyitblowsup.I’veknowntwoorthreecaseslikethat.Mighthappeninthiscase.Ifitwillcheeryouup,”hepaused,“I’dbetasmallamountonit.”
Ishookmyhead.
“She’llliveforyears.”
“Well,theoddsareonyourside,Iadmit…Butlet’shaveawageronit.FifteenhundredtoonetheladydiesbetweennowandChristmas:how’sthat?”
“Sooner!Itwillhavetobesooner.Ican’twait.Therearethings—”
Iwaspurposelyincoherent.Idon’tknowwhetherhethoughtthatmattersbetweenHermiaandmyselfhadgonesofarthatIcouldn’tstallfortime—orthatmy“wife”threatenedtogotoHermiaandmaketrouble.HemayhavethoughtthattherewasanothermanmakingaplayforHermia.Ididn’tmindwhathethought.Iwantedtostressurgency.
“Altertheoddsabit,”hesaid.“We’llsayeighteenhundredtooneyourwife’sagonerinunderamonth.I’vegotasortoffeelingaboutit.”
Ithoughtitwastimetobargain—andIbargained.ProtestedthatIhadn’tgotthatamountofmoney.Bradleywasskillful.Heknew,bysomemeansorother,justwhatsumIcouldraiseinanemergency.HeknewthatHermiahadmoney.Hisdelicatehintthatlater,whenIwasmarried,Iwouldn’tfeelthelossofmybet,wasproofofthat.Moreover,myurgencyputhiminafineposition.Hewouldn’tcomedown.
WhenIlefthimthefantasticwagerwaslaidandaccepted.
IsignedsomeformofI.O.U.Thephraseologywastoofulloflegalphrasesformetounderstand.ActuallyIverymuchdoubtedthatithadanylegalsignificancewhatever.
“Isthislegallybinding?”Iaskedhim.
“Idon’tthink,”saidMr.Bradley,showinghisexcellentdentures,“thatitwilleverbeputtothetest.”Hissmilewasnotaveryniceone.“Abet’sabet.Ifamandoesn’tpayup—”
Ilookedathim.
“Ishouldn’tadviseit,”hesaidsoftly.“No,Ishouldn’tadviseit.Wedon’tlikewelshers.”
“Ishan’twelsh,”Isaid.
“I’msureyouwon’t,Mr.Easterbrook.Nowfortheer—arrangements.Mrs.Easterbrook,yousay,isinLondon.Where,exactly?”
“Doyouhavetoknow?”
“Ihavetohavefulldetails—thenextthingtodoistoarrangeanappointmentwithMissGrey—yourememberMissGrey?”
IsaidofcourseIrememberedMissGrey
“Anamazingwoman.Reallyanamazingwoman.Mostgifted.She’llwantsomethingyourwifehasworn—aglove—handkerchief—anythinglikethat—”
“Butwhy?Inthenameof—”
“Iknow,Iknow.Don’taskmewhy.I’venottheleastidea.MissGreykeepshersecretstoherself.”
“Butwhathappens?Whatdoesshedo?”
“Youreallymustbelieveme,Mr.Easterbrook,whenItellyouthathonestlyIhaven’ttheleastidea!Idon’tknow—andwhatismore,Idon’twanttoknow—let’sleaveitatthat.”
Hepaused,andthenwentoninanalmostfatherlytone.
“Myadviceisasfollows,Mr.Easterbrook.Payavisittoyourwife.Sootheherdown,letherthinkthatyou’recomingroundtotheideaofareconciliation.Ishouldsuggestthatyouhavetogoabroadforafewweeks,butthatonyourreturnetc.,etc….”
“Andthen?”
“Havingpurloinedatrifleofdailywearinanunobtrusivemanner,youwillgodowntoMuchDeeping.”Hepausedthoughtfully.“Letmesee.Ithinkyoumentionedonyourpreviousvisitthatyouhadfriends—relations—intheneighbourhood?”
“Acousin.”
“Thatmakesitverysimple.Thiscousinwilldoubtlessputyouupforadayorso.”
“Whatdomostpeopledo?Stayatthelocalinn?”
“Sometimes,Ibelieve—ortheymotoroverfromBournemouth.Somethingofthatkind—butIknowverylittleaboutthematter.”
“What—er—ismycousinlikelytothink?”
“YouexpressyourselfasintriguedbytheinhabitantsofthePaleHorse.Youwanttoparticipateinaséancethere.Nothingcansoundsimpler.MissGreyandhermediumfriendoftenindulgeinséances.Youknowwhatspiritualistsare.Yougoprotestingthatofcourseit’snonsense,butthatitwillinterestyou.Thatisall,Mr.Easterbrook.Asyousee,nothingcanbesimpler—”
“And—and,afterthat?”
Heshookhisheadsmiling.
“That’sallIcantellyou.All,infact,thatIknow.MissThyrzaGreywillthenbeincharge.Don’tforgettotaketheglove,orhandkerchief,orwhateveritiswithyou.Afterwards,Iwouldsuggestthatyoutakealittletripabroad.TheItalianRivieraisverypleasantatthistimeofyear.Justforaweekortwo,say.”
IsaidthatIdidn’twanttogoabroad.IsaidIwantedtostayinEngland.
“Verywell,then,butdefinitelynotLondon.No,Imuststronglyadvise,notLondon.”
“Whynot?”
Mr.Bradleylookedatmereprovingly.
“Clientsareguaranteedcomplete—er—safety,”hesaid.“Iftheyobeyorders.”
“WhataboutBournemouth?WouldBournemouthdo?”
“Yes,Bournemouthwouldbeadequate.Stayatahotel,makeafewacquaintances,beseenintheircompany.Theblamelesslife—thatiswhatweaimat.YoucanalwaysgoontoTorquayifyougettiredofBournemouth.”
Hespokewiththeaffabilityofatravelagent.
OnceagainIhadtoshakehispodgyhand.
Seventeen
MarkEasterbrook’sNarrative
I
“AreyoureallygoingtoaséanceatThyrza’s?”Rhodademanded.
“Whynot?”
“Ineverknewyouwereinterestedinthatsortofthing,Mark.”
“I’mnotreally,”Isaidtruthfully.“Butit’ssuchaqueersetup,thosethree.I’mcurioustoseewhatsortofashowtheyputon.”
Ididnotfinditreallyeasytoputonalightmanner.Outofthetailofmyeye,IsawHughDespardlookingatmethoughtfully.Hewasashrewdman,withanadventurouslifebehindhim.Oneofthosemenwhohaveakindofsixthsensewheredangerisconcerned.Ithinkhescenteditspresencenow—realisedthatsomethingmoreimportantthanidlecuriositywasatstake.
“ThenIshallcomewithyou,”saidRhodagleefully.“I’vealwayswantedtogo.”
“You’lldonothingofthesort,Rhoda,”growledDespard.
“ButIdon’treallybelieveinspiritsandallthat,Hugh.YouknowIdon’t.Ijustwanttogoforthefunofit!”
“Thatsortofbusinessisn’tfun,”saidDespard.“Theremaybesomethinggenuinetoit,thereprobablyis.Butitdoesn’thaveagoodeffectonpeoplewhogooutof‘idlecuriosity.’”
“ThenyououghttodissuadeMark,too.”
“Mark’snotmyresponsibility,”saidDespard.
Butagainhegavemethatquicksidelonglook.Heknew,Iwasquitesure,thatIhadapurpose.
Rhodawasannoyed,butshegotoverit,andwhenwechancedtomeetThyrzaGreyinthevillagealittlelaterthatmorning,Thyrzaherselfwasbluntuponthematter.
“Hallo,Mr.Easterbrook,we’reexpectingyouthisevening.Hopewecanputonagoodshowforyou.Sybil’sawonderfulmedium,butoneneverknowsbeforehandwhatresultsonewillget.Soyoumustn’tbedisappointed.OnethingIdoaskyou.Keepanopenmind.Anhonestinquirerisalwayswelcome—butafrivolous,scoffingapproachisbad.”
“Iwantedtocometoo,”saidRhoda.“ButHughissofrightfullyprejudiced.Youknowwhathe’slike.”
“Iwouldn’thavehadyou,anyway,”saidThyrza.“Oneoutsiderisquiteenough.”
Sheturnedtome.
“Supposeyoucomeandhavealightmealwithusfirst,”shesaid.“Wenevereatmuchbeforeaséance.Aboutseveno’clock?Good,we’llbeexpectingyou.”
Shenodded,smiled,andstrodebrisklyaway.Istaredafterher,soengrossedinmysurmises,thatIentirelymissedwhatRhodawassayingtome.
“Whatdidyousay?I’msorry.”
“You’vebeenveryoddlately,Mark.Eversinceyouarrived.Isanythingthematter?”
“No,ofcoursenot.Whatshouldbethematter?”
“Haveyougotstuckwiththebook?Somethinglikethat?”
“Thebook?”JustforamomentIcouldn’trememberanythingaboutthebook.ThenIsaidhastily,“Ohyes,thebook.It’sgettingonmoreorlessallright.”
“Ibelieveyou’reinlove,”saidRhodaaccusingly.“Yes,that’sit.Beinginlovehasaverybadeffectonmen—itseemstoaddletheirwits.Nowwomenarejusttheopposite—ontopoftheworld,lookingradiantandtwiceasgood-lookingasusual.Funny,isn’tit,thatitshouldsuitwomen,andonlymakeamanlooklikeasicksheep?”
“Thankyou!”Isaid.
“Oh,don’tbecrosswithme,Mark.Ithinkit’saverygoodthingreally—andI’mdelighted.She’sreallyverynice.”
“Who’snice?”
“HermiaRedcliffe,ofcourse.YouseemtothinkIknownothingaboutanything.I’veseenitcomingonforages.Andshereallyisjustthepersonforyou—good-lookingandclever;absolutelysuitable.”
“That,”Isaid,“isoneofthecattiestthingsyoucouldsayaboutanyone.”
Rhodalookedatme.
“Itisrather,”shesaid.
Sheturnedawayandsaidshehadtogoandgiveapeptalktothebutcher.IsaidthatIwouldgoandpayacallatthevicarage.
“Butnot”—Iforestalledanycomment—“inordertoaskthevicartoputthebannsup!”
II
Comingtothevicaragewaslikecominghome.
Thefrontdoorwashospitablyopen,andasIsteppedinsideIwasconsciousofaburdenslippingfrommyshoulders.
Mrs.DaneCalthropcamethroughadooratthebackofthehall,carryingforsomereasonunfathomabletomeanenormousplasticpailofbrightgreen.
“Hallo,it’syou,”shesaid.“Ithoughtitwouldbe.”
Shehandedmethepail.Ihadnoideawhattodowithitandstoodlookingawkward.
“Outsidethedoor,onthestep,”saidMrs.Calthropimpatiently,asthoughIoughttohaveknown.
Iobeyed.ThenIfollowedherintothesamedarkshabbyroomwehadsatinbefore.Therewasarathermoribundfirethere,butMrs.DaneCalthroppokeditintoflameanddumpedalogonit.Thenshemotionedmetositdown,plumpeddownherself,andfixedmewithabrightimpatienteye.
“Well?”shedemanded.“Whathaveyoudone?”
Fromthevigourofhermannerwemighthavehadatraintocatch.
“Youtoldmetodosomething.Iamdoingsomething.”
“Good.What?”
Itoldher.Itoldhereverything.InsomeunspokenwayItoldherthingsIdidnotquiteknowmyself.
“Tonight?”saidMrs.DaneCalthropthoughtfully.
“Yes.”
Shewassilentforaminute,obviouslythinking.UnabletohelpmyselfIblurtedout,
“Idon’tlikeit.MyGod,Idon’tlikeit.”
“Whyshouldyou?”
That,ofcourse,wasunanswerable.
“I’msohorriblyafraidforher.”
Shelookedatmekindly.
“Youdon’tknow,”Isaid,“how—howbravesheis.If,insomeway,theymanagetoharmher….”
Mrs.DaneCalthropsaidslowly:
“Idon’tsee—Ireallydon’tsee—howtheycanharmherinthewayyoumean.”
“Buttheyhaveharmed—otherpeople.”
“Itwouldseemso,yes…”Shesoundeddissatisfied.
“Inanyotherway,shewillbeallright.We’vetakeneveryimaginableprecaution.Nomaterialharmcanhappentoher.”
“Butit’smaterialharmthatthesepeopleclaimtobeabletoproduce,”Mrs.DaneCalthroppointedout.“Theyclaimtobeabletoworkthroughthemindonthebody.Illness—disease.Veryinterestingiftheycan.Butquitehorrible!Andit’sgottobestopped,aswe’vealreadyagreed.”
“Butshe’stheonewho’stakingtherisk,”Imuttered.
“Someonehasto,”saidMrs.DaneCalthropcalmly.“Itupsetsyourpride,thatitshouldn’tbeyou.You’vegottoswallowthat.Ginger’sideallysuitedforthepartshe’splaying.Shecancontrolhernervesandshe’sintelligent.Shewon’tletyoudown.”
“I’mnotworryingaboutthat!”
“Well,stopworryingatall.Itwon’tdoheranygood.Don’tlet’sshirktheissue.Ifshediesasaresultofthisexperiment,thenshediesinagoodcause.”
“MyGod,you’rebrutal!”
“Somebodyhastobe,”saidMrs.DaneCalthrop.“Alwaysenvisagetheworst.You’venoideahowthatsteadiesthenerves.Youbeginatoncetobesurethatitcan’tbeasbadaswhatyouimagine.”
Shenoddedatmereassuringly.
“Youmayberight,”Isaiddoubtfully
Mrs.DaneCalthropsaidwithcompletecertaintythatofcourseshewasright.
Iproceededtodetails.
“You’reonthetelephonehere?”
“Naturally.”
IexplainedwhatIwantedtodo.
“Afterthis—thisbusinesstonightisover,ImaywanttokeepinclosetouchwithGinger.Ringherupeveryday.IfIcouldtelephonefromhere?”
“Ofcourse.ToomuchcomingandgoingatRhoda’s.Youwanttobesureofnotbeingoverheard.”
“IshallstayonatRhoda’sforabit.ThenperhapsgotoBournemouth.I’mnotsupposedto—gobacktoLondon.”
“Nouselookingahead,”Mrs.DaneCalthropsaid.“Notbeyondtonight.”
“Tonight…”Igotup.Isaidathingthatwasoutofcharacter.“Prayforme—forus,”Isaid.
“Naturally,”saidMrs.DaneCalthrop,surprisedthatIshouldneedtoask.
AsIwentoutofthefrontdoorasuddencuriositymademesay,
“Whythepail?What’sitfor?”
“Thepail?Oh,it’sfortheschoolchildren,topickberriesandleavesfromthehedges—forthechurch.Hideous,isn’tit,butsohandy.”
Ilookedoutovertherichnessoftheautumnworld.Suchsoftstillbeauty….
“AngelsandMinistersofgracedefendus,”Isaid.
“Amen,”saidMrs.DaneCalthrop.
III
MyreceptionatthePaleHorsewasconventionalintheextreme.Idon’tknowwhatparticularatmosphericeffectIhadexpected—butitwasnotthis.
ThyrzaGrey,wearingaplaindarkwooldress,openedthedoor,saidinabusinessliketone:“Ah,hereyouare.Good.We’llhavesupperstraightaway—”
Nothingcouldhavebeenmorematter-of-fact,morecompletelyordinary….
Thetablewaslaidforasimplemealattheendofthepanelledhall.Wehadsoup,anomelette,andcheese.Bellawaitedonus.SheworeablackstuffdressandlookedmorethaneverlikeoneofthecrowdinanItalianprimitive.Sybilstruckamoreexoticnote.Shehadonalongdressofsomewovenpeacock-colouredfabric,shotwithgold.Herbeadswereabsentonthisoccasion,butshehadtwoheavygoldbraceletsclaspingherwrists.Sheateaminuteportionofomelettebutnothingelse.Shespokelittle,treatingustoafarawaywrapped-up-in-higher-thingsmood.Itoughttohavebeenimpressive.Actuallyitwasnot.Theeffectwastheatricalandunreal.
ThyrzaGreyprovidedwhatconversationtherewas—abriskchattycommentaryonlocalhappenings.ShewasthiseveningtheBritishcountryspinstertothelife,pleasant,efficient,uninterestedinanythingbeyondherimmediatesurroundings.
Ithoughttomyself,I’mmad,completelymad.Whatistheretofearhere?EvenBellaseemedtonightonlyahalf-wittedoldpeasantwoman—likehundredsofotherwomenofherkind—inbred,untouchedbyeducationorabroaderoutlook.
MyconversationwithMrs.DaneCalthropseemedfantasticinretrospect.Wehadworkedourselvesuptoimaginegoodnessknowswhat.TheideaofGinger—Gingerwithherdyedhairandassumedname—beingindangerfromanythingthesethreeveryordinarywomencoulddo,waspositivelyludicrous!
Themealcametoanend.
“Nocoffee,”saidThyrzaapologetically.“Onedoesn’twanttobeoverstimulated.”Sherose.“Sybil?”
“Yes,”saidSybil,herfacetakingonwhatsheclearlythoughtwasanecstaticandotherworldexpression.“ImustgoandPREPARE….”
Bellabegantoclearthetable.Iwanderedovertowheretheoldinnsignhung.Thyrzafollowedme.
“Youcan’treallyseeitatallbythislight,”shesaid.
Thatwasquitetrue.Thefaintpaleimageagainstthedarkencrustedgrimeofthepanelcouldhardlybedistinguishedasthatofahorse.Thehallwaslitbyfeebleelectricbulbsshieldedbythickvellumshades.
“Thatred-hairedgirl—what’shername?—Gingersomething—whowasstayingdownhere—saidshe’ddoaspotofcleaningandrestoringonit,”saidThyrza.“Don’tsupposeshe’lleverrememberaboutit,though.”Sheaddedcasually,“SheworksforsomegalleryorotherinLondon.”
ItgavemeastrangefeelingtohearGingerreferredtolightlyandcasually.
Isaid,staringatthepicture:
“Itmightbeinteresting.”
“It’snotagoodpainting,ofcourse,”saidThyrza.“Justadaub.Butitgoeswiththeplace—andit’scertainlywelloverthreehundredyearsold.”
“Ready.”
Wewheeledabruptly.
Bella,emergingoutofthegloom,wasbeckoning.
“Timetogetonwiththings,”saidThyrza,stillbriskandmatter-of-fact.
Ifollowedherassheledthewayouttotheconvertedbarn.
AsIhavesaid,therewasnoentrancetoitfromthehouse.Itwasadarkovercastnight,nostars.Wecameoutofthedenseouterblacknessintothelonglightedroom.
Thebarn,bynight,wastransformed.Bydayithadseemedapleasantlibrary.Nowithadbecomesomethingmore.Therewerelamps,butthesewerenotturnedon.Thelightingwasindirectandfloodedtheroomwithasoftbutcoldlight.Inthecentreofthefloorwasakindofraisedbedordivan.Itwasspreadwithapurplecloth,embroideredwithvariouscabbalisticsigns.
Onthefarsideoftheroomwaswhatappearedtobeasmallbrazier,andnexttoitabigcopperbasin—anoldonebythelookofit.
Ontheotherside,setbackalmosttouchingthewall,wasaheavyoak-backedchair.Thyrzamotionedmetowardsit.
“Sitthere,”shesaid.
Isatobediently.Thyrza’smannerhadchanged.TheoddthingwasthatIcouldnotdefineexactlyinwhatthechangeconsisted.TherewasnoneofSybil’sspuriousoccultismaboutit.Itwasmoreasthoughaneverydaycurtainofnormaltriviallifehadbeenlifted.Behinditwastherealwoman,displayingsomethingofthemannerofasurgeonapproachingtheoperatingtableforadifficultanddangerousoperation.Thisimpressionwasheightenedwhenshewenttoacupboardinthewallandtookfromitwhatappearedtobeakindoflongoverall.Itseemedtobemade,whenthelightcaughtit,ofsomemetallicwoventissue.Shedrewonlonggauntletsofwhatlookedlikeakindoffinemeshratherresemblinga“bulletproofvest”Ihadoncebeenshown.
“Onehastotakeprecautions,”shesaid.
Thephrasestruckmeasslightlysinister.
Thensheaddressedmeinanemphaticdeepvoice.
“Imustimpressuponyou,Mr.Easterbrook,thenecessityofremainingabsolutelystillwhereyouare.Onnoaccountmustyoumovefromthatchair.Itmightnotbesafetodoso.Thisisnochild’sgame.Iamdealingwithforcesthataredangeroustothosewhodonotknowhowtohandlethem!”Shepausedandthenasked,“Youhavebroughtwhatyouwereinstructedtobring?”
Withoutaword,Idrewfrommypocketabrownsuèdegloveandhandedittoher
Shetookitandmovedovertoametallampwithagooseneckshade.Sheswitchedonthelampandheldthegloveunderitsrayswhichwereofapeculiarsicklycolour,turningtheglovefromitsrichbrowntoacharacterlessgrey.
Sheswitchedoffthelamp,noddinginapproval.
“Mostsuitable,”shesaid.“Thephysicalemanationsfromitswearerarequitestrong.”
Sheputitdownontopofwhatappearedtobealargeradiocabinetattheendoftheroom.Thensheraisedhervoicealittle.“Bella.Sybil.Weareready.”
Sybilcameinfirst.Sheworealongblackcloakoverherpeacockdress.Thissheflungasidewithadramaticgesture.Itsliddown,lookinglikeaninkypoolonthefloor.Shecameforward.
“Idohopeitwillbeallright,”shesaid.“Oneneverknows.Pleasedon’tadoptascepticalframeofmind,Mr.Easterbrook.Itdoessohinderthings.”
“Mr.Easterbrookhasnotcomeheretomock,”saidThyrza.
Therewasacertaingrimnessinhertone.
Sybillaydownonthepurpledivan.Thyrzabentoverher,arrangingherdraperies.
“Quitecomfortable?”sheaskedsolicitously.
“Yes,thankyou,dear.”
Thyrzaswitchedoffsomelights.Thenshewheeledupwhatwas,ineffect,akindofcanopyonwheels.ThissheplacedsothatitovershadowedthedivanandleftSybilinadeepshadowinthemiddleofoutlyingdimtwilight.
“Toomuchlightisharmfultoacompletetrance,”shesaid.
“Now,Ithink,weareready.Bella?”
Bellacameoutoftheshadows.Thetwowomenapproachedme.WithherrighthandThyrzatookmyleft.HerlefthandtookBella’sright.Bella’slefthandfoundmyrighthand.Thyrza’shandwasdryandhard,Bella’swascoldandboneless—itfeltlikeasluginmineandIshiveredinrevulsion.
Thyrzamusthavetouchedaswitchsomewhere,formusicsoundedfaintlyfromtheceiling.IrecogniseditasMendelssohn’sfuneralmarch.
“Miseenscêne,”Isaidtomyselfratherscornfully.“Meretricioustrappings!”Iwascoolandcritical—butneverthelessawareofanundercurrentofsomeunwantedemotionalapprehension.
Themusicstopped.Therewasalongwait.Therewasonlythesoundofbreathing.Bella’sslightlywheezy,Sybil’sdeepandregular.
Andthen,suddenly,Sybilspoke.Not,however,inherownvoice.Itwasaman’svoice,asunlikeherownmincingaccentsascouldbe.Ithadagutturalforeignaccent.
“Iamhere,”thevoicesaid.
Myhandswerereleased.Bellaflittedawayintotheshadows.Thyrzasaid:“Goodevening.IsthatMacandal?”
“IamMacandal.”
Thyrzawenttothedivananddrewawaytheprotectingcanopy.ThesoftlightfloweddownontoSybil’sface.Sheappearedtobedeeplyasleep.Inthisreposeherfacelookedquitedifferent.
Thelinesweresmoothedaway.Shelookedyearsyounger.Onecouldalmostsaythatshelookedbeautiful.
Thyrzasaid:
“Areyouprepared,Macandal,tosubmittomydesireandmywill?”
Thenewdeepvoicesaid:
“Iam.”
“WillyouundertaketoprotectthebodyoftheDossuthatlieshereandwhichyounowinhabit,fromallphysicalinjuryandharm?Willyoudedicateitsvitalforcetomypurpose,thatthatpurposemaybeaccomplishedthroughit?”
“Iwill.”
“Willyousodedicatethisbodythatdeathmaypassthroughit,obeyingsuchnaturallawsasmaybeavailableinthebodyoftherecipient?”
“Thedeadmustbesenttocausedeath.Itshallbeso.”
Thyrzadrewbackastep.BellacameupandheldoutwhatIsawwasacrucifix.ThyrzaplaceditonSybil’sbreastinareversedposition.ThenBellabroughtasmallgreenphial.FromthisThyrzapouredoutadroportwoontoSybil’sforehead,andtracedsomethingwithherfinger.AgainIfanciedthatitwasthesignofthecrossupsidedown.
Shesaidtome,briefly,“HolywaterfromtheCatholicchurchatGarsington.”
Hervoicewasquiteordinary,andthis,whichoughttohavebrokenthespell,didnotdoso.Itmadethewholebusiness,somehow,morealarming.
Finallyshebroughtthatratherhorriblerattlewehadseenbefore.SheshookitthreetimesandthenclaspedSybil’shandroundit.
Shesteppedbackandsaid:
“Allisready—”
Bellarepeatedthewords:
“Allisready—”
Thyrzaaddressedmeinalowtone:
“Idon’tsupposeyou’remuchimpressed,areyou,byalltheritual?Someofourvisitorsare.Toyou,Idaresay,it’sallsomuchmumbojumbo…Butdon’tbetoosure.Ritual—apatternofwordsandphrasessanctifiedbytimeandusage,hasaneffectonthehumanspirit.Whatcausesthemasshysteriaofcrowds?Wedon’tknowexactly.Butit’saphenomenonthatexists.Theseold-timeusages,theyhavetheirpart—anecessarypart,Ithink.”
Bellahadlefttheroom.Shecamebacknow,carryingawhitecock.Itwasaliveandstrugglingtobefree.
Nowwithwhitechalkshekneltdownandbegantodrawsignsonthefloorroundthebrazierandthecopperbowl.Shesetdownthecockwithitsbackonthewhitecurvinglineroundthebowlanditstayedtheremotionless.
Shedrewmoresigns,chantingasshedidso,inalowgutturalvoice.Thewordswereincomprehensibletome,butasshekneltandswayed,shewasclearlyworkingherselfuptosomepitchofobsceneecstasy.
Watchingme,Thyrzasaid:“Youdon’tlikeitmuch?It’sold,youknow,veryold.Thedeathspellaccordingtooldrecipeshandedfrommothertodaughter.”
Icouldn’tfathomThyrza.ShedidnothingtofurthertheeffectonmysenseswhichBella’sratherhorribleperformancesmightwellhavehad.Sheseemeddeliberatelytotakethepartofacommentator.
Bellastretchedoutherhandstothebrazierandaflickeringflamesprangup.Shesprinkledsomethingontheflamesandathickcloyingperfumefilledtheair.
“Weareready,”saidThyrza.
Thesurgeon,Ithought,picksuphisscalpel….
ShewentovertowhatIhadtakentobearadiocabinet.ItopenedupandIsawthatitwasalargeelectricalcontrivanceofsomecomplicatedkind.
Itmovedlikeatrolleyandshewheeleditslowlyandcarefullytoapositionnearthedivan.
Shebentoverit,adjustedthecontrols,murmuringtoherself:
“Compass,north-northeast…degrees…that’saboutright.”Shetookthegloveandadjusteditinaparticularposition,switchingonasmallvioletlightbesideit.
Thenshespoketotheinertfigureonthedivan.
“SybilDianaHelen,youaresetfreefromyourmortalsheathwhichthespiritMacandalguardssafelyforyou.Youarefreetobeatonewiththeownerofthisglove.Likeallhumanbeings,hergoalinlifeistowardsdeath.Thereisnofinalsatisfactionbutdeath.Onlydeathsolvesallproblems.Onlydeathgivestruepeace.Allgreatoneshaveknownit.RememberMacbeth.‘Afterlife’sfitfulfeverhesleepswell.’RemembertheecstasyofTristanandIsolde.Loveanddeath.Loveanddeath.Butthegreatestoftheseisdeath….”
Thewordsrangout,echoing,repeating—thebigbox-likemachinehadstartedtoemitalowhum,thebulbsinitglowed—Ifeltdazed,carriedaway.This,Ifelt,wasnolongersomethingatwhichIcouldmock.Thyrza,herpowerunleashed,washoldingthatpronefigureonthedivancompletelyenslaved.Shewasusingher.Usingherforadefiniteend
Yes,butthebox?Wheredidtheboxcomein?
Andsuddenlyallmyfearwastransferredtothebox!Whatdevilishsecretwasbeingpractisedthroughitsagency?Couldtherebephysicallyproducedraysofsomekindthatactedonthecellsofthemind?Ofaparticularmind?
Thyrza’svoicewenton:
“Theweakspot…thereisalwaysaweakspot…deepinthetissuesoftheflesh…Throughweaknesscomesstrength—thestrengthandpeaceofdeath…Towardsdeath—slowly,naturally,towardsdeath—thetrueway,thenaturalway.Thetissuesofthebodyobeythemind…Commandthem—commandthem…Towardsdeath…Death,theConqueror…Death…soon…verysoon…Death…Death…DEATH!”
Hervoiceroseinagreatswellingcry…AndanotherhorribleanimalcrycamefromBella.Sheroseup,aknifeflashed…therewasahorriblestrangledsquawkfromthecockerel…Blooddrippedintothecopperbowl.Bellacamerunning,thebowlheldout….
Shescreamedout:
“Blood…theblood…BLOOD!”
Thyrzawhippedouttheglovefromthemachine.Bellatookit,dippeditintheblood,returnedittoThyrzawhoreplacedit.
Bella’svoiceroseagaininthathighecstaticcall….
“Theblood…theblood…theblood…”
Sheranroundandroundthebrazier,thendroppedtwitchingtothefloor.Thebrazierflickeredandwentout.
Ifelthorriblysick.Unseeing,clutchingthearmofmychair,myheadseemedtobewhirlinginspace….
Iheardaclick,thehumofthemachineceased.
ThenThyrza’svoicerose,clearandcomposed:
“Theoldmagicandthenew.Theoldknowledgeofbelief,thenewknowledgeofscience.Together,theywillprevail….”
Eighteen
MarkEasterbrook’sNarrative
“Well,whatwasitlike?”demandedRhodaeagerlyatthebreakfasttable.
“Oh,theusualstuff,”Isaidnonchalantly.
IwasuneasilyconsciousofDespard’seyeonme.Aperceptiveman.
“Pentagramsdrawnonthefloor?”
“Lotsofthem.”
“Anywhitecocks?”
“Naturally.ThatwasBella’spartofthefunandgames.”
“Andtrancesandthings?”
“Asyousay,trancesandthings.”
Rhodalookeddisappointed.
“Youseemtohavefounditratherdull,”shesaidinanaggrievedvoice.
Isaidthatthesethingswereallmuchofamuchness.Atanyrate,I’dsatisfiedmycuriosity.
Later,whenRhodahaddepartedtothekitchen,Despardsaidtome:
“Shookyouupabit,didn’tit?”
“Well—”
Iwasanxioustomakelightofthewholething,butDespardwasnotaneasymantodeceive.
Isaidslowly,“Itwas—inaway—ratherbeastly.”
Henodded.
“Onedoesn’treallybelieveinit,”saidDespard.“Notwithone’sreasoningmind—butthesethingshavetheireffect.I’veseenagooddealofitinEastAfrica.Thewitchdoctorstherehaveaterrificholdonthepeople,andonehastoadmitthatoddthingshappenwhichcan’tbeexplainedinanyrationalmanner.”
“Deaths?”
“Ohyes.Ifamanknowshe’sbeenmarkeddowntodie,hedies.”
“Thepowerofsuggestion,Isuppose.”
“Presumably.”
“Butthatdoesn’tquitesatisfyyou?”
“No—notquite.TherearecasesdifficultofexplanationbyanyofourglibWesternscientifictheories.Thestuffdoesn’tusuallyworkonEuropeans—(thoughIhaveknowncases).Butifthebeliefisthereinyourblood—you’vehadit!”Heleftitthere.
Isaidthoughtfully:“Iagreewithyouthatonecan’tbetoodidactic.Oddthingshappeneveninthiscountry.IwasatahospitalonedayinLondon.Agirlhadcomein—neuroticsubject,complainingofterriblepaininbones,arm,etc.Nothingtoaccountforit.Theysuspectedshewasavictimofhysteria.Doctortoldhercurecouldbeeffectedbyared-hotrodbeingdrawndownthearm.Wouldsheagreetotryit?Shedid.
“Thegirlturnedherheadawayandscreweduphereyes.Thedoctordippedaglassrodincoldwateranddrewitdowntheinsideofherarm.Thegirlscreamedwithagony.Hesaid,‘You’llbeallrightnow.’Shesaid,‘Iexpectso,butitwasawful.Itburnt.’Thequeerthingtomewas—notthatshebelievedthatshehadbeenburnt,butthatherarmactuallywasburnt.Thefleshwasactuallyblisteredeverywheretherodhadtouchedit.”
“Wasshecured?”Despardaskedcuriously.
“Ohyes.Theneuritis,orwhateveritwas,neverreappeared.Shehadtobetreatedfortheburntarm,though.”
“Extraordinary,”saidDespard.“Itgoestoshow,doesn’tit?”
“Thedoctorwasstartledhimself.”
“Ibethewas…”Helookedatmecuriously.
“Whywereyoureallysokeentogotothatséancelastnight?”
Ishruggedmyshoulders.
“Thosethreewomenintrigueme.Iwantedtoseewhatsortofshowtheywouldputup.”
Despardsaidnomore.Idon’tthinkhebelievedme.AsIhavesaid,hewasaperceptiveman.
PresentlyIwentalongtothevicarage.Thedoorwasopenbutthereseemedtobenooneinthehouse.
Iwenttothelittleroomwherethetelephonewas,andrangupGinger.
ItseemedaneternitybeforeIheardhervoice.
“Hallo!”
“Ginger!”
“Oh,it’syou.Whathappened?”
“You’reallright?”
“OfcourseI’mallright.Whyshouldn’tIbe?”
Wavesofreliefsweptoverme.
TherewasnothingwrongwithGinger;thefamiliarchallengeofhermannerdidmeaworldofgood.HowcouldIeverhavebelievedthatalotofmumbojumbocouldhurtsonormalacreatureasGinger?
“Ijustthoughtyoumighthavehadbaddreamsorsomething,”Isaidratherlamely.
“Well,Ididn’t.Iexpectedtohave,butallthathappenedwasthatIkeptwakingupandwonderingifIfeltanythingpeculiarhappeningtome.Ireallyfeltalmostindignantbecausenothingdidhappentome—”
Ilaughed.
“Butgoon—tellme,”saidGinger.“What’sitallabout?”
“Nothingmuchoutoftheordinary.Sybillayonapurplecouchandwentintoatrance.”
Gingergaveaspurtoflaughter.
“Didshe?Howwonderful!Wasitavelvetoneanddidshehavenothingon?”
“SybilisnoMadamedeMontespan.Anditwasn’tablackmass.ActuallySybilworequitealotofclothes,peacockblue,andlotsofembroideredsymbols.”
“SoundsmostappropriateandSybil-like.WhatdidBellado?”
“Thatreallywasratherbeastly.Shekilledawhitecockandthendippedyourgloveintheblood.”
“Oo—nasty…Whatelse?”
“Lotsofthings,”Isaid.
IthoughtthatIwasdoingquitewell.Iwenton:
“Thyrzagavemethewholebagoftricks.Summonedupaspirit—Macandalwas,Ithink,thename.Andtherewerecolouredlightsandchanting.Thewholethingwouldhavebeenquiteimpressivetosomepeople—scared’emoutoftheirwits.”
“Butitdidn’tscareyou?”
“Belladidscaremeabit,”Isaid.“Shehadaverynasty-lookingknife,andIthoughtshemightloseherheadandaddmetothecockasasecondvictim.”
Gingerpersisted:
“Nothingelsefrightenedyou?”
“I’mnotinfluencedbythatsortofthing.”
“ThenwhydidyousoundsothankfultohearIwasallright?”
“Well,because—”Istopped.
“Allright,”saidGingerobligingly.“Youneedn’tanswerthatone.Andyouneedn’tgooutofyourwaytoplaydownthewholething.Somethingaboutitimpressedyou.”
“Only,Ithink,becausethey—Thyrza,Imean—seemedsocalmlyconfidentoftheresult.”
“Confidentthatwhatyou’vebeentellingmeaboutcouldactuallykillaperson?”
Ginger’svoicewasincredulous.
“It’sdaft,”Iagreed.
“Wasn’tBellaconfident,too?”
Iconsidered.Isaid:
“IthinkBellawasjustenjoyingherselfkillingcocksandworkingherselfupintoakindoforgyofill-wishing.Tohearhermoaningout“TheBlood…theblood”wasreallysomething.”
“IwishI’dheardit,”saidGingerregretfully.
“Iwishyouhad,”Isaid.“Frankly,thewholethingwasquiteaperformance.”
“You’reallrightnow,aren’tyou?”saidGinger.
“Whatdoyoumean—allright?”
“Youweren’twhenyourangmeup,butyouarenow.”
Shewasquitecorrectinherassumption.Thesoundofhercheerfulnormalvoicehaddonewondersforme.Secretly,though,ItookoffmyhattoThyrzaGrey.Bogusthoughthewholebusinessmighthavebeen,ithadinfectedmymindwithdoubtandapprehension.Butnothingmatterednow.Gingerwasallright—shehadn’thadsomuchasabaddream.
“Andwhatdowedonext?”demandedGinger.“HaveIgottostayputforanotherweekorso?”
“IfIwanttocollectahundredpoundsfromMr.Bradley,yes.”
“You’lldothatifit’sthelastthingyoueverdo…AreyoustayingonwithRhoda?”
“Forabit.ThenI’llmoveontoBournemouth.You’retoringmeeveryday,mind,orI’llringyou—that’sbetter.I’mringingfromthevicaragenow.”
“How’sMrs.DaneCalthrop?”
“Ingreatform.Itoldherallaboutit,bytheway.”
“Ithoughtyouwould.Well,good-byefornow.Lifeisgoingtobeveryboringforthenextweekortwo.I’vebroughtsomeworkwithmetodo—andagoodmanyofthebooksthatonealwaysmeanstoreadbutneverhasthetimeto.”
“Whatdoesyourgallerythink?”
“ThatI’monacruise.”
“Don’tyouwishyouwere?”
“Notreally,”saidGinger…Hervoicewasalittleodd.
“Nosuspiciouscharactersapproachedyou?”
“Onlywhatyoumightexpect.Themilkman,themantoreadthegasmeter,awomanaskingmewhatpatentmedicinesandcosmeticsIused,someoneaskingmetosignapetitiontoabolishnuclearbombsandawomanwhowantedasubscriptionfortheblind.Oh,andthevariousflatporters,ofcourse.Veryhelpful.Oneofthemmendedafuseforme.”
“Seemsharmlessenough,”Icommented.
“Whatwereyouexpecting?”
“Idon’treallyknow.”
Ihadwished,Isuppose,forsomethingovertthatIcouldtackle.
ButthevictimsofthePaleHorsediedoftheirownfreewill…No,thewordfreewasnottheonetouse.SeedsofphysicalweaknessinthemdevelopedbyaprocessthatIdidnotunderstand.
Gingerrebuffedaweaksuggestionofmineaboutafalsegasmeterman.
“Hehadgenuinecredentials,”shesaid.“Iaskedforthem!Hewasonlythemanwhogetsuponaladderinsidethebathroomandreadsoffthefiguresandwritesthemdown.He’sfartoograndtotouchpipesorgasjets.AndIcanassureyouhehasn’tarrangedanescapeofgasinmybedroom.”
No,thePaleHorsedidnotdealwithaccidentalgasescapes—nothingsoconcrete!
“Oh!Ihadoneothervisitor,”saidGinger.“Yourfriend,Dr.Corrigan.He’snice.”
“IsupposeLejeunesenthim.”
“Heseemedtothinkheoughttorallytoanamesake.UptheCorrigans!”
Irangoff,muchrelievedinmind.
IgotbacktofindRhodabusyonthelawnwithoneofherdogs.Shewasanointingitwithsomeunguent.
“Thevet’sjustgone,”shesaid.“Hesaysit’sringworm.It’sfrightfullycatching,Ibelieve.Idon’twantthechildrengettingit—ortheotherdogs.”
“Orevenadulthumanbeings,”Isuggested.
“Oh,it’susuallychildrenwhogetit.Thankgoodnessthey’reawayatschoolallday—keepquiet,Sheila.Don’twriggle.
“Thisstuffmakesthehairfallout,”shewenton.“Itleavesbaldspotsforabitbutitgrowsagain.”
Inodded,offeredtohelp,wasrefused,forwhichIwasthankful,andwanderedoffagain.
Thecurseofthecountry,Ihavealwaysthought,isthatthereareseldommorethanthreedirectionsinwhichyoucangoforawalk.InMuchDeeping,youcouldeithertaketheGarsingtonroad,ortheroadtoLongCottenham,oryoucouldgoupShadhangerLanetothemainLondon–Bournemouthroadtwomilesaway.
Bythefollowingdayatlunchtime,IhadsampledboththeGarsingtonandtheLongCottenhamroads.ShadhangerLanewasthenextprospect.
Istartedoff,andonmywaywasstruckbyanidea.TheentrancetoPriorsCourtopenedoffShadhangerLane.WhyshouldInotgoandcallonMr.Venables?
ThemoreIconsideredtheidea,themoreIlikedit.Therewouldbenothingsuspiciousaboutmydoingso.WhenIhadbeenstayingdownherebefore,Rhodahadtakenmeoverthere.ItwouldbeeasyandnaturaltocallandaskifImightbeshownagainsomeparticularobjectthatIhadnothadtimereallytolookatandenjoyonthatoccasion.
TherecognitionofVenablesbythischemist—whatwashisname—Ogden?—Osborne?—wasinteresting,tosaytheleastofit.Grantedthat,accordingtoLejeune,itwouldhavebeenquiteimpossibleforthemaninquestiontohavebeenVenablesowingtothelatter’sdisability,yetitwasintriguingthatamistakeshouldhavebeenmadeaboutamanlivinginthisparticularneighbourhood—andaman,onehadtoadmit,whofittedinsowellincharacter.
TherewassomethingmysteriousaboutVenables.Ihadfeltitfromthefirst.Hehad,Iwassure,first-classbrains.Andtherewassomethingabouthim—whatwordcouldIuse?—thewordvulpinecametome.Predatory—destructive.Aman,perhaps,tooclevertobeakillerhimself—butamanwhocouldorganisekillingverywellifhewantedto.
Asfarasallthatwent,IcouldfitVenablesintothepartperfectly.Themastermindbehindthescenes.Butthischemist,Osborne,hadclaimedthathehadseenVenableswalkingalongaLondonstreet.Sincethatwasimpossible,thentheidentificationwasworthless,andthefactthatVenableslivedinthevicinityofthePaleHorsemeantnothing.
Allthesame,Ithought,IwouldliketohaveanotherlookatMr.Venables.SoinduecourseIturnedinatthegatesofPriorsCourtandwalkedupthequartermileofwindingdrive.
Thesamemanservantansweredthedoor,andsaidthatMr.Venableswasathome.Excusinghimselfforleavingmeinthehall,“Mr.Venablesisnotalwayswellenoughtoseevisitors,”hewentaway,returningafewmomentslaterwiththeinformationthatMr.Venableswouldbedelightedtoseeme.
Venablesgavemeamostcordialwelcome,wheelinghischairforwardandgreetingmequiteasanoldfriend.
“Veryniceofyoutolookmeup,mydearfellow.Iheardyouweredownhereagain,andwasgoingtoringupourdearRhodathiseveningandsuggestyouallcomeoverforlunchordinner.”
IapologisedfordroppinginasIhad,butsaidthatitwasasuddenimpulse.Ihadgoneforawalk,foundthatIwaspassinghisgate,anddecidedtogate-crash.
“Asamatteroffact,”Isaid,“I’dlovetohaveanotherlookatyourMogulminiatures.Ihadn’tnearlyenoughtimetoseethemproperlytheotherday.”
“Ofcourseyouhadn’t.I’mgladyouappreciatethem.Suchexquisitedetail.”
Ourtalkwasentirelytechnicalafterthis.ImustadmitthatIenjoyedenormouslyhavingacloserlookatsomeofthereallywonderfulthingshehadinhispossession.
TeawasbroughtinandheinsistedthatIpartakeofit.
TeaisnotoneofmyfavouritemealsbutIappreciatedthesmokyChinatea,andthedelicatecupsinwhichitwasserved.Therewashotbutteredanchovytoast,andaplumcakeofthelusciousold-fashionedkindthattookmebacktoteatimeatmygrandmother’shousewhenIwasalittleboy.
“Homemade,”Isaidapprovingly.
“Naturally!Aboughtcakenevercomesintothishouse.”
“Youhaveawonderfulcook,Iknow.Don’tyoufinditdifficulttokeepastaffinthecountry,asfarawayfromthingsasyouarehere?”
Venablesshruggedhisshoulders.“Imusthavethebest.Iinsistuponit.Naturally—onehastopay!Ipay.”
Allthenaturalarroganceofthemanshowedhere.Isaiddryly:“Ifoneisfortunateenoughtobeabletodothat,itcertainlysolvesmanyproblems.”
“Italldepends,youknow,onwhatonewantsoutoflife.Ifone’sdesiresarestrongenough—thatiswhatmatters.Somanypeoplemakemoneywithoutanotionofwhattheywantittodoforthem!Asaresulttheygetentangledinwhatonemightcallthemoneymakingmachine.Theyareslaves.Theygototheirofficesearlyandleavelate;theyneverstoptoenjoy.Andwhatdotheygetforit?Largercars,biggerhouses,moreexpensivemistressesorwives—and,letmesay,biggerheadaches.”
Heleanedforward.
“Justthegettingofmoney—thatisreallythebeallandendallformostrichmen.Ploughitbackintobiggerenterprises,makemoremoneystill.Butwhy?Dotheyeverstoptoaskthemselveswhy?Theydon’tknow.”
“Andyou?”Iasked.
“I—”hesmiled.“IknewwhatIwanted.Infiniteleisureinwhichtocontemplatethebeautifulthingsofthisworld,naturalandartificial.Sincetogoandseethemintheirnaturalsurroundingshasoflateyearsbeendeniedme,Ihavethembroughtfromallovertheworldtome.”
“Butmoneystillhastobegotbeforethatcanhappen.”
“Yes,onemustplanone’scoups—andthatinvolvesquitealotofplanning—butthereisnoneed,reallynoneednowadays,toserveanysordidapprenticeship.”
“Idon’tknowifIquiteunderstandyou.”
“It’sachangingworld,Easterbrook.Italwayshasbeen—butnowthechangescomemorerapidly.Thetempohasquickened—onemusttakeadvantageofthat.”
“Achangingworld,”Isaidthoughtfully.
“Itopensupnewvistas.”
Isaidapologetically:
“I’mafraid,youknow,thatyou’retalkingtoamanwhosefaceissetintheoppositedirection—towardsthepast—nottowardsthefuture.”
Venablesshruggedhisshoulders.
“Thefuture?Whocanforeseethat?Ispeakoftoday—now—theimmediatemoment!Itakenoaccountofanythingelse.Thenewtechniquesareheretouse.Alreadywehavemachinesthatcansupplyuswiththeanswertoquestionsinseconds—comparedtohoursordaysofhumanlabour.”
“Computers?Theelectronicbrain?”
“Thingsofthatkind.”
“Willmachinestaketheplaceofmeneventually?”
“Ofmen,yes.Menwhoareonlyunitsofmanpower—thatis.ButMan,no.TherehastobeMantheController,MantheThinker,whoworksoutthequestionstoaskthemachines.”
Ishookmyheaddoubtfully.
“Man,theSuperman?”Iputafaintinflectionofridiculeintomyvoice.
“Whynot,Easterbrook?Whynot?Remember,weknow—orarebeginningtoknow—somethingaboutManthehumananimal.Thepracticeofwhatissometimes,incorrectly,calledbrainwashinghasopenedupenormouslyinterestingpossibilitiesinthatdirection.Notonlythebody,butthemindofman,respondstocertainstimuli.”
“Adangerousdoctrine,”Isaid.
“Dangerous?”
“Dangeroustothedoctoredman.”
Venablesshruggedhisshoulders.
“Alllifeisdangerous.Weforgetthat,wewhohavebeenrearedinoneofthesmallpocketsofcivilisation.Forthatisallthatcivilisationreallyis,Easterbrook.SmallpocketsofmenhereandtherewhohavegatheredtogetherformutualprotectionandwhotherebyareabletooutwitandcontrolNature.Theyhavebeatenthejungle—butthatvictoryisonlytemporary.Atanymoment,thejunglewilloncemoretakecommand.Proudcitiesthatwere,arenowmeremoundsofearth,overgrownwithrankvegetation,andthepoorhovelsofmenwhojustmanagetokeepalive,nomore.Lifeisalwaysdangerous—neverforgetthat.Intheend,perhaps,notonlygreatnaturalforces,buttheworkofourownhandsmaydestroyit.Weareveryneartothathappeningatthismoment….”
“Noonecandenythat,certainly.ButI’minterestedinyourtheoryofpower—powerovermind.”
“Ohthat—”Venableslookedsuddenlyembarrassed.“ProbablyIexaggerated.”
Ifoundhisembarrassmentandpartialwithdrawalofhisformerclaiminteresting.Venableswasamanwholivedmuchalone.Amanwhoisalonedevelopstheneedtotalk—tosomeone—anyone.Venableshadtalkedtome—andperhapsnotwisely.
“MantheSuperman,”Isaid.“You’verathersoldmeonsomemodernversionoftheidea,youknow.”
“There’snothingnewaboutit,certainly.TheformulaoftheSupermangoesbackalongway.Wholephilosophieshavebeenbuiltonit.”
“Ofcourse.ButitseemstomethatyourSupermanis—aSupermanwithadifference…Amanwhocouldwieldpower—andneverbeknowntowieldpower.Amanwhositsinhischairandpullsthestrings.”
IlookedathimasIspoke.Hesmiled.
“Areyoucastingmeforthepart,Easterbrook?Iwishitwereindeedso.Oneneedssomethingtocompensatefor—this!”
Hishandstruckdownontherugacrosshisknees,andIheardthesuddensharpbitternessinhisvoice.
“Iwon’tofferyoumysympathy,”Isaid.“Sympathyisverylittlegoodtoamaninyourposition.Butletmesaythatifweareimaginingsuchacharacter—amanwhocanturnunforeseendisasterintotriumph—youwouldbe,inmyopinion,exactlythattypeofman.”
Helaughedeasily.
“You’reflatteringme.”
Buthewaspleased,Isawthat.
“No,”Isaid.“Ihavemetenoughpeopleinmylifetorecognisetheunusual,theextra-giftedman,whenImeethim.”
Iwasafraidofgoingtoofar;butcanoneever,really,gotoofarwithflattery?Adepressingthought!Onemusttakeittoheartandavoidthepitfalloneself.
“Iwondered,”hesaidthoughtfully,“whatactuallymakesyousaythat?Allthis?”Hesweptacarelesshandroundtheroom.
“Thatisaproof,”Isaid,“thatyouarearichmanwhoknowshowtobuywisely,whohasappreciationandtaste.ButIfeelthatthereismoretoitthanmerepossession.Yousetouttoacquirebeautifulandinterestingthings—andyouhavepracticallyhintedthattheywerenotacquiredthroughthemediumoflaborioustoil.”
“Quiteright,Easterbrook,quiteright.AsIsaid,onlythefooltoils.Onemustthink,planthecampaignineverydetail.Thesecretofallsuccessissomethingquitesimple—butithastobethoughtof!Somethingsimple.Onethinksofit,andputsitintoexecution—andthereyouare!”
Istaredathim.Somethingsimple—somethingassimpleastheremovalofunwantedpersons?Fulfillinganeed.Anactionperformedwithoutdangertoanybodyexceptthevictim.PlannedbyMr.Venablessittinginhiswheeledchair,withhisgreathookednoselikethebeakofabirdofprey,andhisprominentAdam’sapplemovingupanddown.Executedby—whom?ThyrzaGrey?
IwatchedhimasIsaid:
“AllthistalkofremotecontrolremindsmeofsomethingthatoddMissGreysaid.”
“Ah,ourdearThyrza!”Histonewassmooth,indulgent(buthadtherebeenafaintflickeroftheeyelids?).“Suchnonsenseasthosetwodearladiestalk!Andtheybelieveit,youknow,theyreallybelieveit.Haveyoubeenyet—(I’msurethey’llinsistonyourgoing)—tooneoftheseridiculousséancesoftheirs?”
IhadamomentaryhesitationwhilstIdecidedrapidlywhatmyattitudehereoughttobe.
“Yes,”Isaid,“I—Ididgotoaséance.”
“Andyoufounditgreatnonsense?Orwereyouimpressed?”
Iavoidedhiseyesandpresentedtomybestabilityamanwhoisillatease.
“I—ohwell—ofcourseIdidn’treallybelieveinanyofit.Theyseemverysincerebut—”Ilookedatmywatch.“I’dnoideaitwassolate.Imusthurryback.MycousinwillwonderwhatIamdoing.”
“Youhavebeencheeringupaninvalidonadullafternoon.MyregardstoRhoda.Wemustarrangeanotherluncheonpartysoon.TomorrowIamgoingtoLondon.ThereisaninterestingsaleatSotheby’s.MedievalFrenchivories.Exquisite!Youwillappreciatethem,Iamsure,ifIsucceedinacquiringthem.”
Wepartedonthisamicablenote.Wasthereanamusedandmalicioustwinkleinhiseyeasheregisteredmyawkwardnessovertheséance?Ithoughtso,butIcouldnotbesure.IfeltitquitelikelythatIwasnowimaginingthings.
Nineteen
MarkEasterbrook’sNarrative
Iwentoutintothelateafternoon.Darknesshadalreadyfallen,andsincetheskywasovercast,Imovedratheruncertainlydownthewindingdrive.Ilookedbackonceatthelightedwindowsofthehouse.Indoingso,Isteppedoffthegravelontothegrassandcollidedwithsomeonemovingintheoppositedirection.
Itwasasmallman,solidlymade.Weexchangedapologies.Hisvoicewasarichdeepbasswitharatherfruityandpedantictone.
“I’msosorry….”
“Notatall.Entirelymyfault,Iassureyou….”
“Ihaveneverbeenherebefore,”Iexplained,“soIdon’tquiteknowwhereI’mgoing.Ioughttohavebroughtatorch.”
“Allowme.”
Thestrangerproducedatorchfromhispocket,switcheditonandhandedittome.ByitslightIsawthathewasamanofmiddleage,witharoundcherubicface,ablackmoustacheandspectacles.Heworeagoodqualitydarkraincoatandcanonlybedescribedastheacmeofrespectability.Allthesame,itdidjustcrossmymindtowonderwhyhewasnotusinghistorchhimselfsincehehaditwithhim.
“Ah,”Isaidratheridiotically.“Isee.Ihavesteppedoffthedrive.”
Isteppedbackonit,thenofferedhimbackthetorch.
“Icanfindmywaynow.”
“No,no,praykeepituntilyougettothegate.”
“Butyou—youaregoingtothehouse?”
“No,no.Iamgoingthesamewaythatyouare.Er—downthedrive.Andthenuptothebusstop.IamcatchingabusbacktoBournemouth.”
Isaid,“Isee,”andwefellintostepsidebyside.Mycompanionseemedalittleillatease.HeinquiredifIalsoweregoingtothebusstop.IrepliedthatIwasstayingintheneighbourhood.
TherewasagainapauseandIcouldfeelmycompanion’sembarrassmentgrowing.Hewasthekindofmanwhodoesnotlikefeelinginanywayinafalseposition.
“YouhavebeentovisitMr.Venables?”heasked,clearinghisthroat.
Isaidthatthatwasso,adding,“Itookitthatyoualsowereonyourwaytothehouse?”
“No,”hesaid.“No…Asamatteroffact—”hepaused.“IliveinBournemouth—oratleastnearBournemouth.Ihavejustmovedintoasmallbungalowthere.”
Ifeltafaintstirringinmymind.WhathadIrecentlyheardaboutabungalowatBournemouth?WhilstIwastryingtoremember,mycompanion,becomingevenmoreillatease,wasfinallyimpelledtospeak.
“Youmustthinkitveryodd—Iadmit,ofcourse,itisodd—tofindsomeonewanderinginthegroundsofahousewhenthe—er—personinquestionisnotacquaintedwiththeownerofthehouse.Myreasonsarealittledifficulttoexplain,thoughIassureyouthatIhavereasons.ButIcanonlysaythatalthoughIhaveonlyrecentlysettledinBournemouth,Iamquitewellknownthere,andIcouldbringforwardseveralesteemedresidentstovouchformepersonally.Actually,IamapharmacistwhohasrecentlysoldanoldestablishedbusinessinLondon,andIhaveretiredtothispartoftheworldwhichIhavealwaysfoundverypleasant—verypleasantindeed.”
Enlightenmentcametome.IthoughtIknewwhothelittlemanwas.Meanwhilehewascontinuinginfullspate.
“MynameisOsborne,ZachariahOsborne,andasIsayIhave—hadrather—averynicebusinessinLondon—BartonStreet—PaddingtonGreen.Quiteagoodneighbourhoodinmyfather’stime,butsadlychangednow—ohyes,verymuchchanged.Gonedownintheworld.”
Hesighed,andshookhishead.
Thenheresumed:
“ThisisMr.Venables’shouse,isitnot?Isuppose—er—heisafriendofyours?”
Isaidwithdeliberation:
“Hardlyafriend.Ihaveonlymethimoncebeforetoday,whenIwastakentolunchwithhimbysomefriendsofmine.”
“Ahyes—Isee…Yes,precisely.”
Wehadcomenowtotheentrancegates.Wepassedthroughthem.Mr.Osbornepausedirresolutely.Ihandedhimbackhistorch.
“Thankyou,”Isaid.
“Notatall.You’rewelcome.I—”Hepaused,thenwordscamefromhiminarush.
“Ishouldn’tlikeyoutothink…Imean,technically,ofcourse,Iwastrespassing.Butnot,Iassureyou,fromanymotiveofvulgarcuriosity.Itmusthaveseemedtoyoumostpeculiar—myposition—andopentomisconstruction.Ireallywouldliketoexplain—to—er—clarifymyposition.”
Iwaited.Itseemedthebestthingtodo.Mycuriosity,vulgarornot,wascertainlyaroused.Iwanteditsatisfied.
Mr.Osbornewassilentforaboutaminute,thenhemadeuphismind.
“Ireallywouldliketoexplaintoyou,Mr.—er—”
“Easterbrook.MarkEasterbrook.”
“Mr.Easterbrook.AsIsay,Iwouldwelcomethechanceofexplainingmyratheroddbehaviour.Ifyouhavethetime—?Itisonlyfiveminutes’walkupthelanetothemainroad.Thereisquitearespectablelittlecaféatthepetrolstationclosetothebusstop.Mybusisnotdueforovertwentyminutes.Ifyouwouldallowmetoofferyouacupofcoffee?”
Iaccepted.Wewalkedupthelanetogether.Mr.Osborne,hisanguishedrespectabilityappeased,chattedcosilyoftheamenitiesofBournemouth,itsexcellentclimate,itsconcertsandtheniceclassofpeoplewholivedthere.
Wereachedthemainroad.Thepetrolstationwasonthecornerwiththebusstopjustbeyondit.Therewasasmallcleancafé,emptyexceptforayoungcoupleinacorner.WeenteredandMr.Osborneorderedcoffeeandbiscuitsfortwo
Thenheleanedforwardacrossthetableandunburdenedhimself.
“Thisallstemsfromacaseyoumayhaveseenreportedinthenewspaperssometimeago.Itwasnotaverysensationalcase,soitdidnotmaketheheadlines—ifthatisthecorrectexpression.ItconcernedtheRomanCatholicparishpriestofthedistrictinLondonwhereIhave—had—myshop.Hewassetupononenightandkilled.Verydistressing.Suchhappeningsarefartoofrequentnowadays.Hewas,Ibelieve,agoodman—thoughImyselfdonotholdwiththeRomandoctrine.Howeverthatmaybe,Imustexplainmyparticularinterest.TherewasapoliceannouncementthattheywereanxioustointerviewanyonewhohadseenFatherGormanonthenightinquestion.BychanceIhadhappenedtobestandingoutsidethedoorofmyestablishmentthateveningabouteighto’clockandhadseenFatherGormangoby.Followinghimatashortdistancewasamanwhoseappearancewasunusualenoughtoattractmyattention.Atthetime,ofcourse,Ithoughtnothingofthematter,butIamanobservantman,Mr.Easterbrook,andIhavethehabitofmentallyregisteringwhatpeoplelooklike.Itisquiteahobbyofmine,andseveralpeoplewhohavecometomyshophavebeensurprisedwhenIsaytothem,‘Ahyes,IthinkyoucameinforthissamepreparationlastMarch?’Itpleasesthem,youknow,toberemembered.Goodbusiness,Ihavefoundit.Anyway,IdescribedthemanIhadseentothepolice.Theythankedmeandthatwasthat.
“NowIcometotherathersurprisingpartofmystory.AbouttendaysagoIcameovertoachurchfêteinthelittlevillageatthebottomofthelanewehavejustwalkedup—andwhatwasmysurprisetoseethissamemanIhavementioned.Hemusthavehad,orsoIthought,anaccident,sincehewaspropellinghimselfinawheeledchair.IinquiredabouthimandwastoldhewasarichlocalresidentofthenameofVenables.Afteradayortwotodebatethematter,IwrotetothepoliceofficertowhomIhadmademyoriginalstatement.HecamedowntoBournemouth—InspectorLejeunewashisname.Heseemedsceptical,however,astowhetherthiswasindeedthemanIhadseenonthenightofthemurder.HeinformedmethatMr.Venableshadbeencrippledforsomeyears,asaresultofpolio.Imust,hesaid,havebeenmisledbyachanceresemblance.”
Mr.Osbornecametoanabrupthalt.Istirredthepalefluidinfrontofmeandtookacautioussip.Mr.Osborneaddedthreelumpsofsugartohisowncup.
“Well,thatseemstosettlethat,”Isaid.
“Yes,”saidMr.Osborne.“Yes…”Hisvoicewasmarkedlydissatisfied.Thenheleanedforwardagain,hisroundbaldheadshiningundertheelectricbulb,hiseyesquitefanaticalbehindhisspectacles….
“Imustexplainalittlemore.Asaboy,Mr.Easterbrook,afriendofmyfather’s,anotherpharmacist,wascalledtogiveevidenceinthecaseofJeanPaulMarigot.Youmayremember—hepoisonedhisEnglishwife—anarsenicalpreparation.Myfather’sfriendidentifiedhimincourtasthemanwhosignedafalsenameinhispoisonregister.Marigotwasconvictedandhanged.Itmadeagreatimpressiononme—Iwasnineyearsoldatthetime—animpressionableage.Itwasmygreathopethatsomeday,I,too,mightfigureinacausecélèbreandbetheinstrumentofbringingamurderertojustice!PerhapsitwasthenthatIbegantomakeastudyofmemorisingfaces.Iwillconfesstoyou,Mr.Easterbrook,thoughitmayseemtoyouquiteridiculous,thatformany,manyyearsnowIhavecontemplatedthepossibilitythatsomeman,determinedtodoawaywithhiswife,mightentermyshoptopurchasewhatheneeded.”
“Or,Isuppose,asecondMadeleineSmith,”Isuggested.
“Exactly.Alas,”Mr.Osbornesighed,“thathasneverhappened.Or,ifso,thepersoninquestionhasneverbeenbroughttojustice.Thatoccurs,Iwouldsay,morefrequentlythanitisquitecomfortabletobelieve.Sothisidentification,thoughnotwhatIhadhoped,openedupatleastapossibilitythatImightbeawitnessinamurdercase!”
Hisfacebeamedwithchildishpleasure.
“Verydisappointingforyou,”Isaidsympathetically.
“Ye-es.”AgainMr.Osborne’svoiceheldthatoddnoteofdissatisfaction.
“I’manobstinateman,Mr.Easterbrook.AsthedayshavepassedbyIhavefeltmoreandmoresurethatIwasright.ThatthemanIsawwasVenablesandnoother.Oh!”heraisedahandinprotestasIwasabouttospeak.“Iknow.Itwasinclinedtobefoggy.Iwassomedistanceaway—butwhatthepolicehavenottakenintoconsiderationisthatIhavemadeastudyofrecognition.Itwasnotjustthefeatures,thepronouncednose,theAdam’sapple;thereisthecarriageofthehead,theangleoftheneckontheshoulders.Isaidtomyself‘Come,come,admityouweremistaken.’ButIcontinuedtofeelthatIhadnotbeenmistaken.Thepolicesaiditwasimpossible.Butwasitimpossible?That’swhatIaskedmyself.”
“Surely,withadisabilityofthatkind—”
Hestoppedmebywavinganagitatedforefinger.
“Yes,yes,butmyexperiences,undertheNationalHealth—Well,reallyitwouldsurpriseyouwhatpeoplearepreparedtodo—andwhattheygetawaywith!Iwouldn’tliketosaythatthemedicalprofessionarecredulous—aplaincaseofmalingeringtheywillspotsoonenough.Butthereareways—waysthatachemistismorelikelytoappreciatethanadoctor.Certaindrugs,forinstance,otherquiteharmless-seemingpreparations.Fevercanbeinduced—variousrashesandskinirritations—drynessofthroat,orincreaseofsecretions—”
“Buthardlyatrophiedlimbs,”Ipointedout.
“Quite,quite.ButwhosaysthatMr.Venables’slimbsareatrophied?”
“Well—hisdoctor,Isuppose?”
“Quite.ButIhavetriedtogetalittleinformationonthatpoint.Mr.Venables’sdoctorisinLondon,aHarleyStreetman—true,hewasseenbythelocaldoctorherewhenhefirstarrived.Butthatdoctorhasnowretiredandgonetoliveabroad.ThepresentmanhasneverattendedMr.Venables.Mr.VenablesgoesuponceamonthtoHarleyStreet.”
Ilookedathimcuriously.
“Thatstillseemstometopresentnoloopholeforer—er—”
“Youdon’tknowthethingsIknow,”saidMr.Osborne.“Ahumbleexamplewillsuffice.Mrs.H.—drawinginsurancebenefitsforoverayear.Drewtheminthreeseparateplaces—onlyinoneplaceshewasMrs.C.andinanotherplaceMrs.T….Mrs.C.andMrs.T.lenthertheircardsforaconsideration,andsoshecollectedthemoneythreetimesover.”
“Idon’tsee—”
“Suppose—justsuppose—”Theforefingerwasnowwigglingexcitedly,“ourMr.V.makescontactwithagenuinepoliocaseinpoorcircumstances.Hemakesaproposition.Themanresembleshim,letussay,inageneralkindofway,nomore.GenuinesufferercallinghimselfMr.V.callsinspecialist,andisexamined,sothatthecasehistoryisallcorrect.ThenMr.V.takeshouseincountry.LocalG.P.wantstoretiresoon.Againgenuinesufferercallsindoctor,isexamined.Andthereyouare!Mr.Venableswelldocumentedasapoliosuffererwithatrophiedlimbs.Heisseenlocally(whenheisseen)inawheeledchair,etc.”
“Hisservantswouldknow,surely,”Iobjected.“Hisvalet.”
“Butsupposingitisagang—thevaletisoneofthegang.Whatcouldbesimpler?Someoftheotherservants,too,perhaps.”
“Butwhy?”
“Ah,”saidMr.Osborne.“That’sanotherquestion,isn’tit?Iwon’ttellyoumytheory—Iexpectyou’dlaughatit.Butthereyouare—averynicealibisetupforamanwhomightwantanalibi.Hecouldbehere,thereandeverywhere,andnobodywouldknow.SeenwalkingaboutinPaddington?Impossible!He’sahelplesscripplelivinginthecountry,etc.”Mr.Osbornepausedandglancedathiswatch.“Mybusisdue.Imustbequick.Igettobroodingaboutthisyousee.WonderedifIcoulddoanythingtoproveit,asyoumightsay.SoIthoughtI’dcomeouthere(I’vetimeonmyhands,thesedays.Ialmostmissmybusinesssometimes),gointothegroundsand—well,nottoputtoofineapointuponit,doabitofspying.Notverynice,you’llsay—andIagree.Butifit’sacaseofgettingatthetruth—ofbringingacriminaltobook…If,forinstance,IspottedourMr.Venableshavingaquietwalkaroundinthegrounds,well,thereyouare!AndthenIthought,iftheydon’tpullthecurtainstoosoon—(andyoumayhavenoticedpeopledon’twhendaylightsavingfirstends—they’vegotinthehabitofexpectingittobedarkanhourlater)—Imightcreepupandtakeapeep.Walkingabouthislibrary,maybe,neverdreamingthatanyonewouldbespyingonhim?Whyshouldhe?Noonesuspectshimasfarasheknows!”
“WhyareyousosurethemanyousawthatnightwasVenables?”
“IknowitwasVenables!”
Heshottohisfeet.
“Mybusiscoming.Pleasedtohavemetyou,Mr.Easterbrook,andit’saweightoffmymindtohaveexplainedwhatIwasdoingthereatPriorsCourt.Idaresayitseemsalotofnonsensetoyou.”
“Itdoesn’taltogether,”Isaid.“Butyouhaven’ttoldmewhatyouthinkMr.Venablesisupto.”
Mr.Osbornelookedembarrassedandalittlesheepish.
“You’lllaugh,Idaresay.Everybodysayshe’srichbutnobodyseemstoknowhowhemadehismoney.I’lltellyouwhatIthink.Ithinkhe’soneofthosemastercriminalsyoureadabout.Youknow—plansthings,andhasagangthatcarriesthemout.ItmaysoundsillytoyoubutI—”
Thebushadstopped.Mr.Osborneranforit—
Iwalkedhomedownthelaneverythoughtful…ItwasafantastictheorythatMr.Osbornehadoutlined,butIhadtoadmitthattheremightjustpossiblybesomethinginit.
Twenty
MarkEasterbrook’sNarrative
I
RingingupGingeronthefollowingmorning,ItoldherthatIwasmovingtoBournemouththenextday.
“I’vefoundanicequietlittlehotelcalled(heavenknowswhy)theDeerPark.It’sgotacoupleofniceunobtrusivesideexits.ImightsneakuptoLondonandseeyou.”
“Yououghtn’ttoreally,Isuppose.ButImustsayitwouldberatherheavenifyoudid.Theboredom!You’venoidea!Ifyoucouldn’tcomehere,Icouldsneakoutandmeetyousomewhere.”
Somethingsuddenlystruckme.
“Ginger!Yourvoice…It’sdifferentsomehow….”
“Ohthat!It’sallright.Don’tworry.”
“Butyourvoice?”
“I’vejustgotabitofasorethroatorsomething,that’sall.”
“Ginger!”
“Nowlook,Mark,anyonecanhaveasorethroat.I’mstartingacold,Iexpect.Oratouchof’flu.”
“’Flu?Lookhere,don’tevadethepoint.Areyouallright,oraren’tyou?”
“Don’tfuss.I’mallright.”
“Tellmeexactlyhowyou’refeeling.Doyoufeelasthoughyoumightbestarting’flu?”
“Well—perhaps…Achingabitallover,youknowthekindofthing—”
“Temperature?”
“Well,perhapsabitofatemperature….”
Isatthere,ahorriblecoldsortoffeelingstealingoverme.Iwasfrightened.Iknew,too,thathowevermuchGingermightrefusetoadmitit,Gingerwasfrightenedalso.
Hervoicespokeagain.
“Mark—don’tpanic.Youarepanicking—andreallythere’snothingtopanicabout.”
“Perhapsnot.Butwe’vegottotakeeveryprecaution.Ringupyourdoctorandgethimtocomeandseeyou.Atonce.”
“Allright…But—he’llthinkI’materriblefusspot.”
“Nevermind.Doit!Then,whenhe’sbeen,ringmeback.”
AfterIhadrungoff,Isatforalongtimestaringattheblackinhumanoutlineofthetelephone.Panic—Imustn’tgivewaytopanic…Therewasalways’fluaboutatthistimeofyear…Thedoctorwouldbereassuring…perhapsitwouldbeonlyaslightchill….
Isawinmymind’seyeSybilinherpeacockdresswithitsscrawledsymbolsofevil.IheardThyrza’svoice,willing,commanding…Onthechalkedfloor,Bella,chantingherevilspells,heldupastrugglingwhitecock….
Nonsense,allnonsense…Ofcourseitwasallsuperstitiousnonsense…
Thebox—notsoeasy,somehow,todismissthebox.Theboxrepresented,nothumansuperstition,butadevelopmentofscientificpossibility…Butitwasn’tpossible—itcouldn’tbepossiblethat—
Mrs.DaneCalthropfoundmethere,sittingstaringatthetelephone.Shesaidatonce:
“What’shappened?”
“Ginger,”Isaid,“isn’tfeelingwell….”
Iwantedhertosaythatitwasallnonsense.Iwantedhertoreassureme.Butshedidn’treassureme.
“That’sbad,”shesaid.“Yes,Ithinkthat’sbad.”
“It’snotpossible,”Iurged.“It’snotpossibleforamomentthattheycandowhattheysay!”
“Isn’tit?”
“Youdon’tbelieve—youcan’tbelieve—”
“MydearMark,”saidMrs.DaneCalthrop,“bothyouandGingerhavealreadyadmittedthepossibilityofsuchathing,oryouwouldn’tbedoingwhatyouaredoing.”
“Andourbelievingmakesitworse—makesitmorelikely!”
“Youdon’tgosofarasbelieving—youjustadmitthat,withevidence,youmightbelieve.”
“Evidence?Whatevidence?”
“Ginger’sbecomingillisevidence,”saidMrs.DaneCalthrop.
Ihatedher.Myvoiceroseangrily.
“Whymustyoubesopessimistic?It’sjustasimplecold—somethingofthatkind.Whymustyoupersistinbelievingtheworst?”
“Becauseifit’stheworst,we’vegottofaceit—notburyourheadsinthesanduntilit’stoolate.”
“Youthinkthatthisridiculousmumbojumboworks?Thesetrancesandspellsandcocksacrificesandallthebagoftricks?”
“Somethingworks,”saidMrs.DaneCalthrop.“That’swhatwe’vegottoface.Alotofit,mostofit,Ithink,istrappings.It’sjusttocreateatmosphere—atmosphereisimportant.Butconcealedamongstthetrappings,theremustbetherealthing—thethingthatdoeswork.”
“Somethinglikeradioactivityatadistance?”
“Somethingofthatkind.Yousee,peoplearediscoveringthingsallthetime—frighteningthings.Somevariationofthisnewknowledgemightbeadaptedbysomeunscrupulouspersonfortheirownpurposes—Thyrza’sfatherwasaphysicist,youknow—”
“Butwhat?What?Thatdamnedbox!Ifwecouldgetitexamined?Ifthepolice—”
“Policearen’tverykeenongettingasearchwarrantandremovingpropertywithoutagooddealmoretogoonthanwe’vegot.”
“IfIwentroundthereandsmashedupthedamnedthing?”
Mrs.DaneCalthropshookherhead.
“Fromwhatyoutoldme,thedamage,iftherehasbeendamage,wasdonethatnight.”
Idroppedmyheadinmyhandsandgroaned.
“Iwishwe’dneverstartedthisdamnedbusiness.”
Mrs.DaneCalthropsaidfirmly:“Yourmotiveswereexcellent.Andwhat’sdoneisdone.You’llknowmorewhenGingerringsbackafterthedoctorhasbeen.She’llringRhoda’s,Isuppose—”
Itookthehint.
“I’dbettergetback.”
“I’mbeingstupid,”saidMrs.DaneCalthropsuddenlyasIleft.“IknowI’mbeingstupid.Trappings!We’relettingourselvesbeobsessedbytrappings.Ican’thelpfeelingthatwe’rethinkingthewaytheywantustothink.”
Perhapsshewasright.ButIcouldn’tseeanyotherwayofthinking.
Gingerrangmetwohourslater.
“He’sbeen,”shesaid.“Heseemedabitpuzzled,buthesaysit’sprobably’flu.There’squitealotabout.He’ssentmetobedandissendingalongsomemedicine.Mytemperatureisquitehigh.Butitwouldbewith’flu,wouldn’tit?”
Therewasaforlornappealinherhoarsevoice,underitssurfacebravery.
“You’llbeallright,”Isaidmiserably.“Doyouhear?You’llbeallright.Doyoufeelveryawful?”
“Well—fever—andaching,andeverythinghurts,myfeetandmyskin.Ihateanythingtouchingme…AndI’msohot.”
“That’sthefever,darling.Listen,I’mcominguptoyou!I’mleavingnow—atonce.No,don’tprotest.”
“Allright.I’mgladyou’recoming,Mark.Idaresay—I’mnotsobraveasIthought….”
II
IrangupLejeune.
“MissCorrigan’sill,”Isaid.
“What?”
“Youheardme.She’sill.She’scalledherowndoctor.Hesaysperhaps’flu.Itmaybe.Butitmaynot.Idon’tknowwhatyoucando.Theonlyideathatoccurstomeistogetsomekindofspecialistontoit.”
“Whatkindofspecialist?”
“Apsychiatrist—orpsychoanalyst,orpsychologist.Apsychosomething.Amanwhoknowsaboutsuggestionandhypnotismandbrainwashingandallthatkindofthing.Therearepeoplewhodealwiththatkindofthing?”
“Ofcoursethereare.Yes.ThereareoneortwoHomeOfficemenwhospecialiseinit.Ithinkyou’redeadright.Itmaybejust’flu—butitmaybesomekindofpsychobusinessaboutwhichnothingmuchisknown.Lord,Easterbrook,thismaybejustwhatwe’vebeenhopingfor!”
Islammeddownthereceiver.Wemightbelearningsomethingaboutpsychologicalweapons—butallthatIcaredaboutwasGinger,gallantandfrightened.Wehadn’treallybelieved,eitherofus—orhadwe?No,ofcoursewehadn’t.Ithadbeenagame—acopsandrobbersgame.Butitwasn’tagame.
ThePaleHorsewasprovingitselfareality.
Idroppedmyheadintomyhandsandgroaned.
Twenty-one
MarkEasterbrook’sNarrative
I
IdoubtifIshalleverforgetthenextfewdays.Itappearstomenowasakindofbewilderedkaleidoscopewithoutsequenceorform.Gingerwasremovedfromtheflattoaprivatenursinghome.Iwasallowedtoseeheronlyatvisitinghours.
Herowndoctor,Igather,wasinclinedtostandonhishighhorseaboutthewholebusiness.Hecouldnotunderstandwhatthefusswasallabout.Hisowndiagnosiswasquiteclear—bronchopneumoniafollowingoninfluenza,thoughcomplicatedbycertainslightlyunusualsymptoms,butthat,ashepointedout,“happensallthetime.Nocaseisever‘typical.’Andsomepeopledon’trespondtoantibiotics.”
And,ofcourse,allthathesaidwastrue.Gingerhadbronchopneumonia.Therewasnothingmysteriousaboutthediseasefromwhichshewassuffering.Shejusthadit—andhaditbadly.
IhadoneinterviewwiththeHomeOfficepsychologist.Hewasaquaintlittlecockrobinofaman,risingupanddownonhistoes,witheyestwinklingthroughverythicklenses.
Heaskedmeinnumerablequestions,halfofwhichIcouldseenopointinwhatever,buttheremusthavebeenapoint,forhenoddedsapientlyatmyanswers.Heentirelyrefusedtocommithimself,whereinhewasprobablywise.HemadeoccasionalpronouncementsinwhatItooktobethejargonofhistrade.Hetried,Ithink,variousformsofhypnotismonGinger,butbywhatseemedtobeuniversalconsent,noonewouldtellmeverymuch.Possiblybecausetherewasnothingtotell.
Iavoidedmyownfriendsandacquaintances,yetthelonelinessofmyexistencewasinsupportable.
Finally,inanexcessofdesperation,IrangupPoppyatherflowershop.Wouldshecomeoutanddinewithme.Poppywouldlovetodoso.
ItookhertotheFantasie.PoppyprattledhappilyandIfoundhercompanyverysoothing.ButIhadnotaskedheroutonlyforhersoothingqualities.Havinglulledherintoahappystuporwithdeliciousfoodanddrink,Ibeganalittlecautiousprobing.ItseemedtobepossiblethatPoppymightknowsomethingwithoutbeingwhollyconsciousofwhatitwassheknew.IaskedherifsherememberedmyfriendGinger.Poppysaid,“Ofcourse,”openingherbigblueeyes,andaskedwhatGingerwasdoingnowadays.
“She’sveryill,”Isaid.
“Poorpet.”Poppylookedasconcernedasitwaspossibleforhertolook,whichwasnotverymuch.
“Shegotherselfmixedupwithsomething,”Isaid.“Ibelievesheaskedyouradviceaboutit.PaleHorsestuff.Costheraterriblelotofmoney.”
“Oh,”exclaimedPoppy,eyeswiderstill.“Soitwasyou!”
ForamomentortwoIdidn’tunderstand.ThenitdawneduponmethatPoppywasidentifyingmewiththe“man”whoseinvalidwifewasthebartoGinger’shappiness.SoexcitedwasshebythisrevelationofourlovelifethatshequitefailedtobealarmedbythementionofthePaleHorse.
Shebreathedexcitedly:
“Diditwork?”
“Itwentabitwrongsomehow,”Iadded,“Thedogitwasthatdied.”
“Whatdog?”askedPoppy,atsea.
IsawthatwordsofonesyllablewouldalwaysbeneededwherePoppywasconcerned.
“The—er—businessseemstohaverecoileduponGinger.Didyoueverhearofthathappeningbefore?”
Poppyneverhad.
“Ofcourse,”Isaid,“thisstufftheydoatthePaleHorsedowninMuchDeeping—youknowaboutthat,don’tyou?”
“Ididn’tknowwhereitwas.Downinthecountrysomewhere.”
“Icouldn’tquitemakeoutfromGingerwhatitistheydo….”
Iwaitedcarefully.
“Rays,isn’tit?”saidPoppyvaguely.“Somethinglikethat.Fromouterspace,”sheaddedhelpfully.“LiketheRussians!”
IdecidedthatPoppywasnowrelyingonherlimitedimagination.
“Somethingofthatkind,”Iagreed.“Butitmustbequitedangerous.Imean,forGingertogetilllikethis.”
“Butitwasyourwifewhowastobeillanddie,wasn’tit?”
“Yes,”Isaid,acceptingtheroleGingerandPoppyhadplantedonme.“Butitseemstohavegonewrong—backfired.”
“Youmean—?”Poppymadeaterrificmentaleffort.“Likewhenyoupluganelectricironinwrongandyougetashock?”
“Exactly,”Isaid.“Justlikethat.Didyoueverknowthatsortofthinghappenbefore?”
“Well,notthatway—”
“Whatway,then?”
“Well,Imeanifonedidn’tpayup—afterwards.AmanIknewwouldn’t.”Hervoicedroppedinanawestrickenfashion.“Hewaskilledinthetube—fellofftheplatforminfrontofatrain.”
“Itmighthavebeenanaccident.”
“Ohno,”saidPoppy,shockedatthethought.“ItwasTHEM.”
IpouredsomemorechampagneintoPoppy’sglass.Here,Ifelt,infrontofmewassomeonewhomightbehelpfulifonlyyoucouldtearoutofherthedisassociatedfactsthatwereflittingaboutinwhatshecalledherbrain.Shehadheardthingssaid,andassimilatedabouthalfofthem,andgotthemjumbledupandnobodyhadbeenverycarefulwhattheysaidbecauseitwas“onlyPoppy.”
ThemaddeningthingwasthatIdidn’tknowwhattoaskher.IfIsaidthewrongthingshewouldshutupinalarmlikeaclamandgodumbonme.
“Mywife,”Isaid,“isstillaninvalid,butshedoesn’tseemanyworse.”
“That’stoobad,”saidPoppysympathetically,sippingchampagne.
“SowhatdoIdonext?”
Poppydidn’tseemtoknow.
“YouseeitwasGingerwho—Ididn’tmakeanyofthearrangements.IsthereanyoneIcouldgetat?”
“There’saplaceinBirmingham,”saidPoppydoubtfully.
“That’scloseddown,”Isaid.“Don’tyouknowanyoneelsewho’dknowanythingaboutit?”
“EileenBrandonmightknowsomething—butIdon’tthinkso.”
TheintroductionofatotallyunexpectedEileenBrandonstartledme.IaskedwhoEileenBrandonwas.
“She’sterriblereally,”saidPoppy.“Verydim.Hasherhairverytightlypermed,andneverwearsstilettoheels.She’stheend.”Sheaddedbywayofexplanation,“Iwasatschoolwithher—butshewasprettydimthen.Shewasfrightfullygoodatgeography.”
“What’sshegottodowiththePaleHorse?”
“Nothingreally.Itwasonlyanideashegot.Andsoshechuckeditup.”
“Chuckedwhatup?”Iasked,bewildered.
“HerjobwithC.R.C.”
“What’sC.R.C.?”
“Well,Idon’treallyknowexactly.TheyjustsayC.R.C.SomethingaboutCustomers’ReactionsorResearch.It’squiteasmallshow.”
“AndEileenBrandonworkedforthem?Whatdidshehavetodo?”
“Justgoroundandaskquestions—abouttoothpasteorgasstoves,andwhatkindofspongesyouused.Tootoodepressinganddull.Imean,whocares?”
“PresumablyC.R.C.”Ifeltaslightpricklingofexcitement.
ItwasawomanemployedbyanassociationofthiskindwhohadbeenvisitedbyFatherGormanonthefatalnight.And—yes—ofcourse,someoneofthatkindhadcalledonGingerattheflat….
Herewasalinkofsomekind.
“Whydidshechuckupherjob?Becauseshegotbored?”
“Idon’tthinkso.Theypaidquitewell.Butshegotasortofideaaboutit—thatitwasn’twhatitseemed.”
“Shethoughtthatitmightbeconnected,insomeway,withthePaleHorse?Isthatit?”
“Well,Idon’tknow.Somethingofthatkind…Anyway,she’sworkinginanEspressocoffeebaroffTottenhamCourtRoadnow.”
“Givemeheraddress.”
“She’snotabityourtype.”
“Idon’twanttomakesexualadvancestoher,”Isaidbrutally.“IwantsomehintsonCustomersResearch.I’mthinkingofbuyingsomesharesinoneofthosethings.”
“Oh,Isee,”saidPoppy,quitesatisfiedwiththisexplanation.
Therewasnothingmoretobegotoutofher,sowefinishedupthechampagne,andItookherhomeandthankedherforalovelyevening.
II
ItriedtoringLejeunenextmorning—butfailed.However,aftersomedifficultyImanagedtogetthroughtoJimCorrigan.
“Whataboutthatpsychologicalpipsqueakyoubroughtalongtoseeme,Corrigan?WhatdoeshesayaboutGinger?”
“Alotoflongwords.ButIratherthink,Mark,thathe’strulybaffled.Andyouknow,peopledogetpneumonia.There’snothingmysteriousoroutofthewayaboutthat.”
“Yes,”Isaid.“Andseveralpeopleweknowof,whosenameswereonacertainlist,havediedofbronchopneumonia,gastroenteritis,bulbarparalysis,tumouronthebrain,epilepsy,paratyphoidandotherwell-authenticateddiseases.”
“Iknowhowyoufeel…Butwhatcanwedo?”
“She’sworse,isn’tshe?”Iasked.
“Well—yes…”
“Thensomething’sgottobedone.”
“Suchas?”
“I’vegotoneortwoideas.GoingdowntoMuchDeeping,gettingholdofThyrzaGreyandforcingher,byscaringthelivingdaylightsoutofher,toreversethespellorwhateveritis—”
“Well—thatmightwork.”
“Or—ImightgotoVenables—”
Corrigansaidsharply:
“Venables?Buthe’sout.Howcanhepossiblyhaveanyconnectionwithit?He’sacripple.”
“Iwonder.Imightgothereandsnatchoffthatrugaffairandseeifthisatrophiedlimbsbusinessistrueorfalse!”
“We’velookedintoallthat—”
“Wait.Iranintothatlittlechemistchap,Osborne,downinMuchDeeping.Iwanttorepeattoyouwhathesuggestedtome.”
IoutlinedtohimOsborne’stheoryofimpersonation.
“Thatman’sgotabeeinhisbonnet,”saidCorrigan.“He’sthekindofmanwhohasalwaysgottoberight.”
“ButCorrigan,tellme,couldn’titbeashesaid?It’spossible,isn’tit?”
AfteramomentortwoCorrigansaidslowly,
“Yes.Ihavetoadmitit’spossible…Butseveralpeoplewouldhavetobeintheknow—andwouldhavetobepaidveryheavilyforholdingtheirtongues.”
“Whatofthat?He’srollinginmoney,isn’the?HasLejeunefoundoutyethowhe’smadeallthatmoney?”
“No.Notexactly…I’lladmitthistoyou.There’ssomethingwrongaboutthefellow.He’sgotapastofsomekind.Themoney’sallverycleverlyaccountedfor,inalotofways.Itisn’tpossibletocheckuponitallwithoutaninvestigationwhichmighttakeyears.Thepolicehavehadtodothatbefore—whenthey’vebeenupagainstafinancialcrookwhohascoveredhistracesbyawebofinfinitecomplexity.IbelievetheInlandRevenuehasbeensmellingaroundVenablesforsometime.Buthe’sclever.Whatdoyouseehimas—theheadoftheshow?”
“Yes.Ido.Ithinkhe’sthemanwhoplansitall.”
“Perhaps.Hesoundsasthoughhe’dhavethekindofbrainsforthat,Iagree.Butsurelyhewouldn’thavedoneanythingsocrudeaskillingFatherGormanhimself!”
“Hemighthaveiftherewassufficienturgency.FatherGormanmighthavehadtobesilencedbeforehecouldpassonwhathehadlearntfromthatwomanabouttheactivitiesofthePaleHorse.Besides—”
Istoppedshort.
“Hallo—youstillthere?”
“Yes,Iwasthinking…Justanideathatoccurredtome…”
“Whatwasit?”
“I’venotgotitclearyet…Justthatrealsafetycouldonlybeachievedoneway.Ihaven’tworkeditoutyet…Anyway,Imustgonow.I’vegotarendezvousatacoffeebar.”
“Didn’tknowyouwereintheChelseacoffeebarset!”
“I’mnot.MycoffeebarisinTottenhamCourtRoad,asamatteroffact.”
Irangoffandglancedattheclock.
Istartedforthedoorwhenthetelephonerang.
Ihesitated.Tentoone,itwasJimCorriganagain,ringingbacktoknowmoreaboutmyidea.
Ididn’twanttotalktoJimCorriganjustnow.
Imovedtowardsthedoorwhilstthetelephonerangonpersistently,naggingly.
Ofcourse,itmightbethehospital—Ginger—
Icouldn’triskthat.Istrodeacrossimpatientlyandjerkedthereceiveroffitshook.
“Hallo?”
“Isthatyou,Mark?”
“Yes,whoisit?”
“It’sme,ofcourse,”saidthevoicereproachfully.“Listen,Iwanttotellyousomething.”
“Oh,it’syou.”IrecognisedthevoiceofMrs.Oliver.“Lookhere,I’minagreathurry,gottogoout.I’llringyoubacklater.”
“Thatwon’tdoatall,”saidMrs.Oliver,firmly.“You’vegottolistentomenow.It’simportant.”
“Well,you’llhavetobequick.I’vegotanappointment.”
“Pooh,”saidMrs.Oliver.“Youcanalwaysbelateforanappointment.Everybodyis.They’llthinkallthemoreofyou.”
“No,really,I’vegotto—”
“Listen,Mark.Thisisimportant.I’msureitis.Itmustbe!”
IcurbedmyimpatienceasbestIcould,glancingattheclock.
“Well?”
“MyMillyhadtonsilitis.Shewasquitebadandshe’sgonetothecountry—tohersister—”
Igrittedmyteeth.
“I’mfrightfullysorryaboutthat,butreally—”
“Listen.I’venotbegunyet.WherewasI?Ohyes.MillyhadtogotothecountryandsoIranguptheagencyIalwaysgoto—theRegency—suchasillynameIalwaysthink—likeacinema—”
“Ireallymust—”
“Andsaidwhatcouldtheysend?Andtheysaiditwasverydifficultjustnow—whichtheyalwayssayasamatteroffact—butthey’ddowhattheycould—”
NeverhadIfoundmyfriendAriadneOliversomaddening.
“—andso,thismorningawomancamealong,andwhodoyouthinksheturnedouttobe?”
“Ican’timagine.Look—”
“AwomancalledEdithBinns—comicname,isn’tit?—andyouactuallyknowher.”
“No,Idon’t.IneverheardofawomancalledEdithBinns.”
“Butyoudoknowherandyousawhernotverylongago.Shehadbeenwiththatgodmotherofyoursforyears.LadyHesketh-Dubois.”
“Oh,withher!”
“Yes.Shesawyouthedayyoucametocollectsomepictures.”
“Well,that’sallveryniceandIexpectyou’reveryluckytofindher.Ibelieveshe’smosttrustworthyandreliableandallthat.AuntMinsaidso.Butreally—now—”
“Wait,can’tyou?Ihaven’tgottothepoint.ShesatandtalkedagreatdealaboutLadyHesketh-Duboisandherlastillness,andallthatsortofthing,becausetheydoloveillnessesanddeathandthenshesaidit.”
“Saidwhat?”
“Thethingthatcaughtmyattention.Shesaidsomethinglike:‘Poordearlady,sufferinglikeshedid.Thatnastythingonherbrain,agrowth,theysay,andsheinquitegoodhealthuptojustbefore.Andpitifulitwastoseeherinthenursinghomeandallherhair,nicethickwhitehairitwas,andalwaysbluedregularlyonceafortnight,toseeitcomingoutalloverthepillow.Comingoutinhandfuls.Andthen,Mark,IthoughtofMaryDelafontaine,thatfriendofmine.Herhaircameout.AndIrememberedwhatyoutoldmeaboutsomegirlyou’dseeninaChelseacoffeeplacefightingwithanothergirl,andgettingherhairallpulledoutinhandfuls.Hairdoesn’tcomeoutaseasilyasthat,Mark.Youtry—justtrytopullyourownhair,justalittlebitofit,outbytheroots!Justtryit!You’llsee.It’snotnatural,Mark,forallthosepeopletohavehairthatcomesoutbytheroots.It’snotnatural.Itmustbesomespecialkindofnewillness—itmustmeansomething.”
Iclutchedthereceiverandmyheadswam.Things,half-rememberedscrapsofknowledge,drewtogether.Rhodaandherdogsonthelawn—anarticleIhadreadinamedicaljournalinNewYork—Ofcourse…Ofcourse!
IwassuddenlyawarethatMrs.Oliverwasstillquackinghappily.
“Blessyou,”Isaid.“You’rewonderful!”
Islammedbackthereceiver,thentookitoffagain.IdialledanumberandwasluckyenoughthistimetogetLejeunestraightaway.
“Listen,”Isaid,“isGinger’shaircomingoutbytherootsinhandfuls?”
“Well—asamatteroffactIbelieveitis.Highfever,Isuppose.”
“Fevermyfoot,”Isaid.“WhatGinger’ssufferingfrom,whatthey’veallsufferedfrom,isthalliumpoisoning.PleaseGod,wemaybeintime….”
Twenty-two
MarkEasterbrook’sNarrative
I
“Areweintime?Willshelive?”
Iwanderedupanddown.Icouldn’tsitstill.
Lejeunesatwatchingme.Hewaspatientandkind.
“Youcanbesurethateverythingpossibleisbeingdone.”
Itwasthesameoldanswer.Itdidnothingtocomfortme.
“Dotheyknowhowtotreatthalliumpoisoning?”
“Youdon’toftengetacaseofit.Buteverythingpossiblewillbetried.Ifyouaskme,Ithinkshe’llpullthrough.”
Ilookedathim.HowcouldItellifhereallybelievedwhathewassaying?Washejusttryingtosootheme?
“Atanyrate,they’veverifiedthatitwasthallium.”
“Yes,they’veverifiedthat.”
“Sothat’sthesimpletruthbehindthePaleHorse.Poison.Nowitchcraft,nohypnotism,noscientificdeathrays.Plainpoisoning!Andsheflungthatatme,damnher.Flungitinmyface.Laughinginhercheekallthewhile,Iexpect.”
“Whoareyoutalkingabout?”
“ThyrzaGrey.ThatfirstafternoonwhenIwenttoteathere.TalkedabouttheBorgiasandallthebuildupof‘rareanduntraceablepoisons’;thepoisonedglovesandalltherestofit.‘Commonwhitearsenic,’shesaid,‘andnothingelse.’Thiswasjustassimple.Allthathooey!Thetranceandthewhitecocksandthebrazierandthepentagramsandthevoodooandthereversedcrucifix—allthatwasforthecrudelysuperstitious.Andthefamous‘box’wasanotherbitofhooeyforthecontemporary-minded.Wedon’tbelieveinspiritsandwitchesandspellsnowadays,butwe’reagulliblelotwhenitcomesto‘rays’and‘waves’andpsychologicalphenomena.Thatbox,Ibet,isnothingbutanicelittleassemblyofelectricalshow-off,colouredbulbsandhummingvalves.Becauseweliveindailyfearofradiofalloutandstrontium90andalltherestofit,we’reamenabletosuggestionalongthelineofscientifictalk.ThewholesetupatthePaleHorsewasbogus!ThePaleHorsewasastalkinghorse,neithermorenorless.Attentionwastobefocusedonthat,sothatwe’dneversuspectwhatmightbegoingoninanotherdirection.Thebeautyofitwasthatitwasquitesafeforthem.ThyrzaGreycouldboastoutloudaboutwhatoccultpowersshehadorcouldcommand.Shecouldneverbebroughtintocourtandtriedformurderonthatissue.Herboxcouldhavebeenexaminedandprovedtobeharmless.Anycourtwouldhaveruledthatthewholethingwasnonsenseandimpossible!And,ofcourse,that’sexactlywhatitwas.”
“Doyouthinkthey’reallthreeinit?”askedLejeune.
“Ishouldn’tthinkso.Bella’sbeliefinwitchcraftisgenuine,Ishouldsay.Shebelievesinherownpowersandrejoicesinthem.ThesamewithSybil.She’sgotagenuinegiftofmediumship.Shegoesintoatranceandshedoesn’tknowwhathappens.ShebelieveseverythingthatThyrzatellsher.”
“SoThyrzaistherulingspirit?”
Isaidslowly:
“AsfarasthePaleHorseisconcerned,yes.Butshe’snottherealbrainsoftheshow.Therealbrainworksbehindthescenes.Heplansandorganises.It’sallbeautifullydovetailed,youknow.Everyonehashisorherjob,andnoonehasanythingonanyoneelse.Bradleyrunsthefinancialandlegalside.Apartfromthat,hedoesn’tknowwhathappenselsewhere.He’shandsomelypaid,ofcourse;soisThyrzaGrey.”
“Youseemtohavegotitalltapedtoyoursatisfaction,”saidLejeunedrily
“Ihaven’t.Notyet.Butweknowthebasicnecessaryfact.It’sthesameasithasbeenthroughtheages.Crudeandsimple.Justplainpoison.Thedearolddeathpotion.”
“Whatputthalliumintoyourhead?”
“Severalthingssuddenlycametogether.ThebeginningofthewholebusinesswasthethingIsawthatnightinChelsea.Agirlwhosehairwasbeingpulledoutbytherootsbyanothergirl.Andshesaid:‘Itdidn’treallyhurt.’Itwasn’tbravery,asIthought;itwassimplefact.Itdidn’thurt.
“IreadanarticleonthalliumpoisoningwhenIwasinAmerica.Alotofworkersinafactorydiedoneaftertheother.Theirdeathswereputdowntoastonishinglyvariedcauses.Amongstthem,ifIrememberrightly,wereparatyphoid,apoplexy,alcoholicneuritis,bulbarparalysis,epilepsy,gastroenteritis,andsoon.Thentherewasawomanwhopoisonedsevenpeople.Diagnosisincludedbraintumour,encephalitis,andlobarpneumonia.Thesymptomsvaryagooddeal,Iunderstand.Theymaystartwithdiarrhoeaandvomiting,ortheremaybeastageofintoxication,againitmaybeginwithpaininthelimbs,andbeputdownaspolyneuritisorrheumaticfeverorpolio—onepatientwasputinanironlung.Sometimesthere’spigmentationoftheskin.”
“Youtalklikeamedicaldictionary!”
“Naturally.I’vebeenlookingitup.Butonethingalwayshappenssoonerorlater.Thehairfallsout.Thalliumusedtobeusedfordepilationatonetime—particularlyforchildrenwithringworm.Thenitwasfoundtobedangerous.Butit’soccasionallygiveninternally,butwithverycarefuldosagegoingbytheweightofthepatient.It’smainlyusednowadaysforrats,Ibelieve.It’stasteless,soluble,andeasytobuy.There’sonlyonething,poisoningmustn’tbesuspected.”
Lejeunenodded.
“Exactly,”hesaid.“HencetheinsistencebythePaleHorsethatthemurderermuststayawayfromhisintendedvictim.Nosuspicionoffoulplayeverarises.Whyshouldit?There’snointerestedpartywhocouldhavehadaccesstofoodordrink.Nopurchaseofthalliumoranyotherpoisonisevermadebyhimorher.That’sthebeautyofit.Therealworkisdonebysomeonewhohasnoconnectionwhateverwiththevictim.Someone,Ithink,whoappearsonceandonceonly.”
Hepaused.
“Anyideasonthat?”
“Onlyone.Acommonfactorappearstobethatoneveryoccasionsomepleasantharmless-seemingwomancallswithaquestionnaireonbehalfofadomesticresearchunit.”
“Youthinkthatthatwomanistheonewhoplantsthepoison?Asasample?Somethinglikethat?”
“Idon’tthinkit’squiteassimpleasthat,”Isaidslowly.“Ihaveanideathatthewomenarequitegenuine.Buttheycomeintoitsomehow.IthinkwemaybeabletofindoutsomethingifwetalktoawomancalledEileenBrandon,whoworksinanEspressooffTottenhamCourtRoad.”
II
EileenBrandonhadbeenfairlyaccuratelydescribedbyPoppy—allowing,thatistosay,forPoppy’sownparticularpointofview.Herhairwasneitherlikeachrysanthemum,noranunrulybirds’nest.Itwaswavedbackclosetoherhead,sheworetheminimumofmakeupandherfeetwereencasedinwhatiscalled,Ibelieve,sensibleshoes.Herhusbandhadbeenkilledinamotoraccident,shetoldus,andleftherwithtwosmallchildren.Beforeherpresentemployment,shehadbeenemployedbyafirmcalledCustomers’ReactionsClassifiedforoverayear.Shehadleftofherownaccordasshehadnotcaredforthetypeofwork.
“Whydidn’tyoucareforit,Mrs.Brandon?”
Lejeuneaskedthequestion.Shelookedathim.
“You’readetective-inspectorofpolice?Isthatright?”
“Quiteright,Mrs.Brandon.”
“Youthinkthere’ssomethingwrongaboutthatfirm?”
“It’samatterI’minquiringinto.Didyoususpectsomethingofthatkind?Isthatwhyyouleft?”
“I’venothingdefinitetogoupon.NothingdefinitethatIcouldtellyou.”
“Naturally.Weunderstandthat.Thisisaconfidentialinquiry.”
“Isee.ButthereisreallyverylittleIcouldsay.”
“Youcansaywhyyouwantedtoleave.”
“IhadafeelingthattherewerethingsgoingonthatIdidn’tknowabout.”
“Youmeanyoudidn’tthinkitwasagenuineconcern?”
“Somethingofthekind.Itdidn’tseemtometoberuninabusinesslikeway.Isuspectedthattheremustbesomeulteriorobjectbehindit.ButwhatthatobjectwasIstilldon’tknow.”
Lejeuneaskedmorequestionsastoexactlywhatworkshehadbeenaskedtodo.Listsofnamesinacertainneighbourhoodhadbeenhandedout.Herjobwastovisitthosepeople,askcertainquestions,andnotedowntheanswers.
“Andwhatstruckyouaswrongaboutthat?”
“Thequestionsdidnotseemtometofollowupanyparticularlineofresearch.Theyseemeddesultory,almosthaphazard.Asthough—howcanIputit?—theywereacloakforsomethingelse.”
“Haveyouanyideawhatthesomethingelsemighthavebeen?”
“No.That’swhatpuzzledme.”
Shepausedamomentandthensaiddoubtfully:
“Ididwonder,atonetime,whetherthewholethingcouldhavebeenorganisedwithaviewperhapstoburglaries,aspyingoutoftheland,sotospeak.Butthatcouldn’tbeit,becauseIwasneveraskedforanydescriptionoftherooms,fastenings,etc,orwhentheoccupantsoftheflatorhousewerelikelytobeoutoraway.”
“Whatarticlesdidyoudealwithinthequestions?”
“Itvaried.Sometimesitwasfoodstuffs.Cereals,cakemixes,oritmightbesoapflakesanddetergents.Sometimescosmetics,facepowders,lipsticks,creams,etc.Sometimespatentmedicinesorremedies,brandsofaspirin,coughpastilles,sleepingpills,peppills,gargles,mouthwashes,indigestionremediesandsoon.”
“Youwerenotasked,”Lejeunespokecasually,“tosupplysamplesofanyparticulargoods?”
“No.Nothingofthatkind.”
“Youmerelyaskedquestionsandnoteddowntheanswers?”
“Yes.”
“Whatwassupposedtobetheobjectoftheseinquiries?”
“Thatwaswhatseemedsoodd.Wewerenevertoldexactly.Itwassupposedtobedoneinordertosupplyinformationtocertainmanufacturingfirms—butitwasanextraordinarilyamateurishwayofgoingaboutit.Notsystematicatall.”
“Woulditbepossible,doyouthink,thatamongstthequestionsyouweretoldtoask,therewasjustonequestionoronegroupofquestions,thatwastheobjectoftheenterprise,andthattheothersmighthavebeencamouflage?”
Sheconsideredthepoint,frowningalittle,thenshenodded.
“Yes,”shesaid.“Thatwouldaccountforthehaphazardchoice—butIhaven’ttheleastideawhatquestionorquestionsweretheimportantones.”
Lejeunelookedatherkeenly.
“Theremustbemoretoitthanwhatyou’vetoldus,”hesaidgently.
“That’sthepoint,thereisn’treally.Ijustfelttherewassomethingwrongaboutthewholesetup.AndthenItalkedtoanotherwoman,aMrs.Davis—”
“YoutalkedtoaMrs.Davis—yes?”
Lejeune’svoiceremainedquiteunchanged.
“Shewasn’thappyaboutthings,either.”
“Andwhywasn’tshehappy?”
“She’doverheardsomething.”
“Whathadsheoverheard?”
“ItoldyouIcouldn’tbedefinite.Shedidn’ttellmeinsomanywords.Onlythatfromwhatshehadoverheard,thewholesetupwasaracketofsomekind.‘It’snotwhatitseemstobe.’Thatiswhatshesaid.Thenshesaid:‘Ohwell,itdoesn’taffectus.Themoney’sverygoodandwe’renotaskedtodoanythingthat’sagainstthelaw—soIdon’tseethatweneedbotherourheadsaboutit.’”
“Thatwasall?”
“Therewasoneotherthingshesaid.Idon’tknowwhatshemeantbyit.Shesaid:‘SometimesIfeellikeTyphoidMary.’AtthetimeIdidn’tknowwhatshemeant.”
Lejeunetookapaperfromhispocketandhandedittoher.
“Doanyofthenamesonthatlistmeananythingtoyou?Didyoucalluponanyofthemthatyoucanremember?”
“Iwouldn’tremember.”Shetookthepaper.“Isawsomany…”Shepausedashereyewentdownthelist.Shesaid:
“Ormerod.”
“YourememberanOrmerod?”
“No.ButMrs.Davismentionedhimonce.Hediedverysuddenly,didn’the?Cerebralhaemorrhage.Itupsether.Shesaid,‘Hewasonmylistafortnightago.Lookedlikeamaninthepinkofcondition.’ItwasafterthatthatshemadetheremarkaboutTyphoidMary.Shesaid,‘SomeofthepeopleIcallonseemtocurluptheirtoesandpassoutjustfromhavingonelookatme.’Shelaughedaboutitandsaiditwasacoincidence.ButIdon’tthinkshelikeditmuch.However,shesaidshewasn’tgoingtoworry.”
“Andthatwasall?”
“Well—”
“Tellme.”
“Itwassometimelater.Ihadn’tseenherforawhile.ButwemetonedayinarestaurantinSoho.ItoldherthatI’dlefttheC.R.C.andgotanotherjob.Sheaskedmewhy,andItoldherI’dfeltuneasy,notknowingwhatwasgoingon.Shesaid:‘Perhapsyou’vebeenwise.Butit’sgoodmoneyandshorthours.Andafterall,we’veallgottotakeourchanceinthislife!I’venothadmuchluckinmylifeandwhyshouldIcarewhathappenstootherpeople?’Isaid:‘Idon’tunderstandwhatyou’retalkingabout.Whatexactlyiswrongwiththatshow?’Shesaid:‘Ican’tbesure,butI’lltellyouIrecognisedsomeonetheotherday.Comingoutofahousewherehe’dnobusinesstobeandcarryingabagoftools.WhatwashedoingwiththoseI’dliketoknow?’Sheaskedme,too,ifI’devercomeacrossawomanwhoranapubcalledthePaleHorsesomewhere.IaskedherwhatthePaleHorsehadtodowithit.”
“Andwhatdidshesay?”
“Shelaughedandsaid‘ReadyourBible.’”
Mrs.Brandonadded:“Idon’tknowwhatshemeant.ThatwasthelasttimeIsawher.Idon’tknowwheresheisnow,whethershe’sstillwithC.R.C.orwhethershe’sleft.”
“Mrs.Davisisdead,”saidLejeune.
EileenBrandonlookedstartled.
“Dead!But—how?”
“Pneumonia,twomonthsago.”
“Oh,Isee.I’msorry.”
“Isthereanythingelseyoucantellus,Mrs.Brandon?”
“I’mafraidnot.Ihaveheardotherpeoplementionthatphrase—thePaleHorse,butifyouaskthemaboutit,theyshutupatonce.Theylookafraid,too.”
Shelookeduneasy.
“I—Idon’twanttobemixedupinanythingdangerous,InspectorLejeune.I’vegottwosmallchildren.Honestly,Idon’tknowanythingmorethanI’vetoldyou.”
Helookedatherkeenly—thenhenoddedhisheadandlethergo.
“Thattakesusalittlefurther,”saidLejeunewhenEileenBrandonhadgone.“Mrs.Davisgottoknowtoomuch.Shetriedtoshuthereyestothemeaningofwhatwasgoingon,butshemusthavehadaveryshrewdsuspicionofwhatitwas.Thenshewassuddenlytakenill,andwhenshewasdying,shesentforapriestandtoldhimwhatsheknewandsuspected.Thequestionis,howmuchdidsheknow?Thatlistofpeople,Ishouldsay,isalistofpeopleshehadcalledoninthecourseofherjob,andwhohadsubsequentlydied.HencetheremarkaboutTyphoidMary.Therealquestionis,whowasitshe‘recognised’comingoutofahousewherehehadnobusinesstobe,andpretendingtobeaworkmanofsomekind?Thatmusthavebeenthehadrecognisedhim.Ifshe’dpassedonthatparticularitemtoFatherGorman,thenitwasvitalthatFatherGormanshouldbesilencedatoncebeforehecouldpassiton.”
Helookedatme.
“Youagree,don’tyou?Thatmusthavebeenthewayofit.”
“Ohyes,”Isaid.“Iagree.”
“Andyou’veanidea,perhaps,whothemanis?”
“I’veanidea,but—”
“Iknow.Wehaven’taparticleofevidence.”
Hewassilentamoment.Thenhegotup.
“Butwe’llgethim,”hesaid.“Makenomistake.Onceweknowdefinitelywhoitis,therearealwaysways.We’lltryeverydamnedoneofthem!”
Twenty-three
MarkEasterbrook’sNarrative
ItwassomethreeweekslaterthatacardroveuptothefrontdoorofPriorsCourt.
Fourmengotout.Iwasoneofthem.TherewasalsoDetective-InspectorLejeuneandDetective-SergeantLee.ThefourthmanwasMr.Osborne,whocouldhardlycontainhisdelightandexcitementatbeingallowedtobeoneoftheparty.
“Youmustholdyourtongue,youknow,”Lejeuneadmonishedhim.
“Yes,indeed,Inspector.Youcancountonmeabsolutely.Iwon’tutteraword.”
“Mindyoudon’t.”
“Ifeelit’saprivilege.Agreatprivilege,thoughIdon’tquiteunderstand—”
Butnobodywasenteringintoexplanationsatthismoment.
LejeunerangthebellandaskedforMr.Venables.
Lookingratherlikeadeputation,thefourofuswereusheredin.
IfVenableswassurprisedatourvisit,hedidnotshowit.Hismannerwascourteousintheextreme.Ithoughtagain,ashewheeledhischairalittlebacksoastowidenthecircleroundhim,whataverydistinctiveappearancethemanhad.TheAdam’sapplemovingupanddownbetweenthewingsofhisold-fashionedcollar,thehaggardprofilewithitscurvednoselikeabirdofprey.
“Nicetoseeyouagain,Easterbrook.Youseemtospendalotoftimedowninthispartoftheworldnowadays.”
Therewasafaintmaliceinhistone,Ithought.Heresumed:
“And—Detective-InspectorLejeune,isit?Thatrousesmycuriosity,Imustadmit.Sopeacefulintheseparts,sofreefromcrime.Andyet,adetective-inspectorcalls!WhatcanIdoforyou,Detective-Inspector?”
Lejeunewasveryquiet,verysuave.
“Thereisamatteronwhichwethinkyoumightbeabletoassistus,Mr.Venables.”
“Thathasaratherfamiliarring,doesitnot?InwhatwaydoyouthinkIcanassistyou?”
“OnOctoberseventh—aparishpriestofthenameofFatherGormanwasmurderedinWestStreet,Paddington.Ihavebeengiventounderstandthatyouwereintheneighbourhoodatthattime—between7:45and8:15intheevening,andyoumayhaveseensomethingthatmayhaveabearingonthematter?”
“WasIreallyintheneighbourhoodatthattime?Doyouknow,Idoubtit,Iverymuchdoubtit.AsfarasIcanrecallIhaveneverbeeninthatparticulardistrictofLondon.Speakingfrommemory,IdonoteventhinkIwasinLondonatalljustthen.IgotoLondonoccasionallyforaninterestingdayinthesaleroom,andnowandthenforamedicalcheckup.”
“WithSirWilliamDugdaleofHarleyStreet,Ibelieve.”
Mr.Venablesstaredathimcoldly.
“Youareverywellinformed,Inspector.”
“NotquitesowellasIshouldliketobe.However,I’mdisappointedthatyoucan’tassistmeinthewaythatIhoped.IthinkIoweittoyoutoexplainthefactsconnectedwiththedeathofFatherGorman.”
“Certainly,ifyoulike.ItisanameIhaveneverhearduntilnow.”
“FatherGormanhadbeencalledoutonthatparticularfoggyeveningtothedeathbedofawomannearby.Shehadbecomeentangledwithacriminalorganisation,atfirstalmostunwittingly,butlatercertainthingsmadehersuspecttheseriousnessofthematter.Itwasanorganisationwhichspecialisedintheremovalofunwantedpersons—forasubstantialfee,naturally.”
“Hardlyanewidea,”murmuredVenables.“InAmerica—”
“Ah,butthereweresomenovelfeaturesaboutthisparticularorganisation.Tobeginwith,theremovalswereostensiblybroughtaboutbywhatmightperhapsbecalledpsychologicalmeans.Whatisreferredtoasa‘deathwish,’saidtobepresentineveryone,isstimulated—”
“Sothatthepersoninquestionobliginglycommitssuicide?Itsounds,ifImaysayso,Inspector,toogoodtobetrue.”
“Notsuicide,Mr.Venables.Thepersoninquestiondiesaperfectlynaturaldeath.”
“Comenow.Comenow.Doyoureallybelievethat?Howveryunlikeourhardheadedpoliceforce!”
“TheheadquartersofthisorganisationaresaidtobeaplacecalledthePaleHorse.”
“Ah,nowIbegintounderstand.Sothatiswhatbringsyoutoourpleasantruralneighbourhood;myfriendThyrzaGrey,andhernonsense!Whethershebelievesitherselfornot,I’veneverbeenabletomakeout.Butnonsenseitis!Shehasasillymediumisticfriend,andthelocalwitchcooksherdinners(quitebravetoeatthem—hemlockinthesoupanymoment!).Andthethreeolddearshaveworkedupquitealocalreputation.Verynaughty,ofcourse,butdon’ttellmeScotlandYard,orwhereveryoucomefrom,takeitallseriously?”
“Wetakeitveryseriouslyindeed,Mr.Venables.”
“YoureallybelievethatThyrzaspoutssomehighfalutin’nonsense,Sybilthrowsatrance,andBelladoesblackmagic,andasaresultsomebodydies?”
“Ohno,Mr.Venables—thecauseofdeathissimplerthanthat—”Hepausedamoment.
“Thecauseisthalliumpoisoning.”
Therewasamomentarypause—
“Whatdidyousay?”
“Poisoning—bythalliumsalts.Quiteplainandstraightforward.Onlyithadtobecoveredup—andwhatbettermethodofcoveringupthanapseudoscientific,psychologicalsetup—fullofmodernjargonandreinforcedbyoldsuperstitions.Calculatedtodistractattentionfromtheplainfactofadministrationofpoison.”
“Thallium,”Mr.Venablesfrowned.“Idon’tthinkI’veeverheardofit.”
“No?Usedextensivelyasratpoison,occasionallyasadepilatoryforchildrenwithringworm.Canbeobtainedquiteeasily.Incidentallythere’sapacketofittuckedawayinacornerofyourpottingshed.”
“Inmypottingshed?Itsoundsmostunlikely.”
“It’sthereallright.We’veexaminedsomeofitfortestingpurposes—”
Venablesbecameslightlyexcited.
“Someonemusthaveputitthere.Iknownothingaboutit!Nothingatall.”
“Isthatso?You’reamanofsomewealth,aren’tyou,Mr.Venables?”
“Whathasthatgottodowithwhatwearetalkingabout?”
“TheInlandRevenuehavebeenaskingsomeawkwardquestionslately,Ibelieve?Astosourceofincome,thatis.”
“ThecurseoflivinginEnglandisundoubtedlyoursystemoftaxation.IhavethoughtveryseriouslyoflateofgoingtoliveinBermuda.”
“Idon’tthinkyou’llbegoingtoBermudajustyetawhile,Mr.Venables.”
“Isthatathreat,Inspector?Becauseifso—”
“No,no,Mr.Venables.Justanexpressionofopinion.Wouldyouliketohearjusthowthislittleracketwasworked?”
“Youarecertainlydeterminedtotellme.”
“It’sverywellorganised.FinancialdetailsarearrangedbyadebarredsolicitorcalledMr.Bradley.Mr.BradleyhasanofficeinBirmingham.Prospectiveclientsvisithimthere,anddobusiness.Thisistosay,thereisabetonwhethersomeonewilldiewithinastatedperiod…Mr.Bradley,whoisfondofawager,isusuallypessimisticinhisprognostications.Theclientisusuallymorehopeful.WhenMr.Bradleywinshisbet,themoneyhastobepaidoverpromptly—orelsesomethingunpleasantisliabletohappen.ThatisallMr.Bradleyhastodo—makeabet.Simple,isn’tit?
“TheclientnextvisitsthePaleHorse.AshowisputonbyMissThyrzaGreyandherfriends,whichusuallyimpresseshiminthewayitismeanttodo.
“Nowforthesimplefactsbehindthescenes.
“Certainwomen,bonafideemployeesofoneofthemanyconsumerresearchconcerns,aredetailedtocanvassaparticularneighbourhoodwithaquestionnaire.‘Whatbreaddoyouprefer?Whattoiletarticlesandcosmetics?Whatlaxative,tonics,sedatives,indigestionmixtures,etc.?’Peoplenowadaysareconditionedtoansweringquizzes.Theyseldomobject.
“Andsoto—thelaststep.Simple,bold,successful!Theonlyactionperformedbytheoriginatoroftheschemeinperson.Hemaybewearingamansionflatporter’suniform,hemaybeamancallingtoreadthegasortheelectricmeter.Hemaybeaplumber,oranelectrician,oraworkmanofsomekind.Whateverheis,hewillhavewhatappeartobethepropercredentialswithhimifanyoneaskstoseethem.Mostpeopledon’t.Whateverroleheisplaying,hisrealobjectissimple—thesubstitutionofapreparationhebringswithhimforasimilararticlewhichheknows(byreasonoftheC.R.C.questionnaires)thathisvictimuses.Hemaytappipes,orexaminemeters,ortestwaterpressure—butthatishisrealobject.Havingaccomplishedit,heleaves,andisnotseeninthatneighbourhoodagain.
“Andforafewdaysperhapsnothinghappens.Butsoonerorlater,thevictimdisplayssymptomsofillness.Adoctoriscalledin,buthasnoreasontosuspectanythingoutoftheordinary.Hemayquestionwhatfoodanddrink,etc.,thepatienthastaken,butheisunlikelytosuspecttheordinaryproprietaryarticlethatthepatienthastakenforyears.
“Andyouseethebeautyofthescheme,Mr.Venables?Theonlypersonwhoknowswhattheheadoftheorganisationactuallydoes—istheheadoftheorganisationhimself.Thereisnoonetogivehimaway.”
“Sohowdoyouknowsomuch?”demandedMr.Venablespleasantly.
“Whenwehavesuspicionsofacertainperson,therearewaysofmakingsure.”
“Indeed?Suchas?”
“Weneedn’tgointoallofthem.Butthere’sthecamera,forinstance.Allkindsofingeniousdevicesarepossiblenowadays.Amancanbesnappedwithouthissuspectingthefact.We’vegotsomeexcellentpictures,forinstance,ofauniformedflatporter,andagasmanandsoon.Therearesuchthingsasfalsemoustaches,differentdentures,etc.,butourmanhasbeenrecognised,quiteeasily—firstbyMrs.MarkEasterbrook,aliasMissKatherineCorrigan,andalsobyawomancalledEdithBinns.Recognitionisaninterestingthing,Mr.Venables.Forinstance,thisgentlemanhere,Mr.Osborne,iswillingtoswearhesawyoufollowingFatherGormaninBartonStreetonthenightoftheseventhofOctoberabouteighto’clock.”
“AndIdidseeyou!”Mr.Osborneleanedforward,twitchingwithexcitement.“Idescribedyouexactly!”
“Rathertooexactly,perhaps,”saidLejeune.“Becauseyoudidn’tseeMr.Venablesthatnightwhenyouwerestandingoutsidethedoorwayofyourshop.Youweren’tstandingthereatall.Youwereacrossthestreetyourself—followingFatherGormanuntilheturnedintoWestStreet,andyoucameupwithhimandkilledhim.…”
Mr.ZachariahOsbornesaid:
“What?”
Itmighthavebeenludicrous.Itwasludicrous!Thedroppedjaw,thestaringeyes…
“Letmeintroduceyou,Mr.Venables,toMr.ZachariahOsborne,pharmacist,lateofBartonStreet,Paddington.You’llfeelapersonalinterestinhimwhenItellyouthatMr.Osborne,whohasbeenunderobservationforsometime,wasunwiseenoughtoplantapacketofthalliumsaltsinyourpottingshed.Notknowingofyourdisability,he’damusedhimselfbycastingyouasthevillainofthepiece;andbeingaveryobstinate,aswellasaverystupidman,herefusedtoadmithe’dmadeabloomer.”
“Stupid?Youdaretocallmestupid?Ifyouknew—ifyou’danyideawhatI’vedone—whatIcando—I—”
Osborneshookandsplutteredwithrage.
Lejeunesummedhimupcarefully.Iwasremindedofamanplayingafish.
“Youshouldn’thavetriedtobesoclever,youknow,”hesaidreprovingly.“Why,ifyou’djustsatbackinthatshopofyours,andletwellalone,Ishouldn’tbeherenow,warningyou,asit’smydutytodo,thatanythingyousaywillbetakendownand—”
ItwasthenthatMr.Osbornebegantoscream.
Twenty-four
MarkEasterbrook’sNarrative
“Lookhere,Lejeune,therearelotsofthingsIwanttoknow.”
Theformalitiesover,IhadgotLejeunetomyself.Weweresittingtogetherwithtwolargetankardsofbeeroppositeus.
“Yes,Mr.Easterbrook?Igatheritwasasurprisetoyou.”
“Itcertainlywas.MymindwassetonVenables.Younevergavemetheleasthint.”
“Icouldn’taffordtogivehints,Mr.Easterbrook.Youhavetoplaythesethingsclosetoyourchest.They’retricky.Thetruthiswehadn’talottogoon.That’swhywehadtostagetheshowinthewaywedidwithVenables’scooperation.WehadtoleadOsbornerightupthegardenpathandthenturnonhimsuddenlyandhopetobreakhimdown.Anditworked.”
“Ishemad?”Iasked.
“I’dsayhe’sgoneovertheedgenow.Hewasn’ttobeginwith,ofcourse,butitdoessomethingtoyou,youknow.Killingpeople.Itmakesyoufeelpowerfulandlargerthanlife.Itmakesyoufeelyou’reGodAlmighty.Butyou’renot.You’reonlyanastybitofgoodsthat’sbeenfoundout.Andwhenthatfact’spresentedtoyousuddenlyyouregojustcan’tstandit.Youscreamandyourantandyouboastofwhatyou’vedoneandhowcleveryouare.Well,yousawhim.”
Inodded.“SoVenableswasinontheperformanceyouputup,”Isaid.“Didheliketheideaofcooperating?”
“Itamusedhim,Ithink,”saidLejeune.“Besides,hewasimpertinentenoughtosaythatonegoodturndeservesanother.”
“Andwhatdidhemeanbythatcrypticremark?”
“Well,Ishouldn’tbetellingyouthis,”saidLejeune,“thisisofftherecord.Therewasabigoutbreakofbankrobberiesabouteightyearsago.Thesametechniqueeverytime.Andtheygotawaywithit!Theraidswerecleverlyplannedbysomeonewhotooknopartintheactualoperation.Thatmangotawaywithalotofmoney.Wemayhavehadoursuspicionswhoitwas,butwecouldn’tproveit.Hewastoocleverforus.Especiallyonthefinancialangle.Andhe’shadthesensenevertotryandrepeathissuccess.I’mnotsayingmore.Hewasaclevercrookbuthewasn’tamurderer.Noliveswerelost.”
MymindwentbacktoZachariahOsborne.“DidyoualwayssuspectOsborne?”Iasked.“Rightfromthebeginning?”
“Well,hewoulddrawattentiontohimself,”saidLejeune.“AsItoldhim,ifhe’donlysatbackanddonenothing,we’dneverhavedreamedthattherespectablepharmacist,Mr.ZachariahOsborne,hadanythingtodowiththebusiness.Butit’safunnything,that’sjustwhatmurdererscan’tdo.Theretheyare,sittingpretty,safeashouses.Buttheycan’tletwellalone.I’msureIdon’tknowwhy.”
“Thedesirefordeath,”Isuggested.“AvariantofThyrzaGrey’stheme.”
“ThesooneryouforgetallaboutMissThyrzaGreyandthethingsshetoldyou,thebetter,”saidLejeuneseverely.“No,”hesaidthoughtfully,“Ithinkreallyit’sloneliness.Theknowledgethatyou’resuchacleverchap,butthatthere’snobodyyoucantalktoaboutit.”
“Youhaven’ttoldmewhenyoustartedtosuspecthim,”Isaid.
“Well,straightawayhestartedtellinglies.Weaskedforanyonewho’dseenFatherGormanthatnighttocommunicatewithus.Mr.Osbornecommunicatedandthestatementhemadewasapalpablelie.He’dseenamanfollowingFatherGormanandhedescribedthefeaturesofthatman,buthecouldn’tpossiblyhaveseenhimacrossthestreetonafoggynight.Anaquilinenoseinprofilehemighthaveseen,butnotanAdam’sapple.Thatwasgoingtoofar.Ofcourse,thatliemighthavebeeninnocentenough.Mr.Osbornemightjustwanttomakehimselfimportant.Lotsofpeoplearelikethat.ButitmademefocusmyattentiononMr.Osborneandhewasreallyratheracuriousperson.Atoncehestartedtotellmealotabouthimself.Veryunwiseofhim.Hegavemeapictureofsomeonewhohadalwayswantedtobemoreimportantthanhewas.He’dnotbeencontenttogointohisfather’sold-fashionedbusiness.He’dgoneoffandtriedhisfortunesonthestage,butheobviouslyhadn’tbeenasuccess.Probably,Ishouldsay,becausehecouldn’ttakeproduction.Nobodywasgoingtodictatetohimthewayheshouldplayapart!Hewasprobablygenuineenoughwhenhetoldofhisambitiontobeawitnessinamurdertrial,successfullyidentifyingamanwhohadcomeintobuypoison.Hismindranonthoselinesagooddeal,Ishouldthink.Ofcoursewedon’tknowatwhatpoint,andwhen,theideaoccurredtohimthathemightbecomeareallybigcriminal,amansocleverthathecouldneverbebroughttojustice.
“Butthat’sallsurmise.Togoback.Osborne’sdescriptionofthemanhehadseenthatnightwasinteresting.Itwassoobviouslyadescriptionofarealpersonwhomhehadatonetimeseen.It’sextraordinarilydifficult,youknow,tomakeupadescriptionofanybody.Eyes,nose,chin,ears,bearing,alltherestofit.Ifyoutryityou’llfindyourselfunconsciouslydescribingsomebodythatyou’venoticedsomewhere—inatramoratrainoranomnibus.Osbornewasobviouslydescribingamanwithsomewhatunusualcharacteristics.I’dsaythathenoticedVenablessittinginhiscaronedayinBournemouthandwasstruckbyhisappearance—ifhe’dseenhimthatway,hewouldn’trealisethemanwasacripple.
“AnotherreasonthatkeptmeinterestedinOsbornewasthathewasapharmacist.Ithoughtitjustpossiblethatthatlistwehadmighttie-upwiththenarcotictradesomewhere.Actuallythatwasn’tso,andImight,therefore,haveforgottenallaboutMr.OsborneifMr.Osbornehimselfhadn’tbeendeterminedtokeepinthepicture.Hewanted,yousee,toknowjustwhatweweredoing,andsohewritestosaythathe’sseenthemaninquestionatachurchfêteinMuchDeeping.Hestilldidn’tknowthatMr.Venableswasaparalysiscase.Whenhedidfindthatouthehadn’tthesensetoshutup.Thatwashisvanity.Typicalcriminal’svanity.Hewasn’tgoingtoadmitforonemomentthathe’dbeenwrong.Likeafool,hestucktohisgunsandputforwardallsortsofpreposteroustheories.IhadaveryinterestingvisittohimathisbungalowinBournemouth.Thenameofitoughttohavegiventheshowaway.Everest.That’swhathecalledit.Andhe’dhungupapictureofMountEverestinthehall.ToldmehowinterestedhewasinHimalayanexploration.Butthatwasthekindofcheapjokethatheenjoyed.Everrest.Thatwashistrade—hisprofession.Hedidgivepeopleeternalrestonpaymentofasuitablefee.Itwasawonderfulidea,one’sgottohandhimthat.Thewholesetupwasclever.BradleyinBirmingham,ThyrzaGreyholdingherséancesinMuchDeeping.AndwhowastosuspectMr.OsbornewhohadnoconnectionwithThyrzaGrey,noconnectionwithBradleyandBirmingham,noconnectionwiththevictim.Theactualmechanicsofthethingwaschild’splaytoapharmacist.AsIsay,ifonlyMr.Osbornehadhadthesensetokeepquiet.”
“Butwhatdidhedowiththemoney?”Iasked.“Afterall,hediditformoneypresumably?”
“Oh,yes,hediditforthemoney.Hadgrandvisions,nodoubt,ofhimselftravelling,entertaining,beingarichandimportantperson.Butofcoursehewasn’tthepersonheimaginedhimselftobe.Ithinkhissenseofpowerwasexhilaratedbytheactualperformanceofmurder.Togetawaywithmurderagainandagainintoxicatedhim,andwhat’smore,he’llenjoyhimselfinthedock.Youseeifhedoesn’t.Thecentralfigurewithalleyesuponhim.”
“Butwhatdidhedowiththemoney?”Idemanded.
“Oh,that’sverysimple,”saidLejeune,“thoughIdon’tknowthatIshouldhavethoughtofitunlessI’dnoticedthewayhe’dfurnishedthebungalow.Hewasamiser,ofcourse.Helovedmoneyandhewantedmoney,butnotforspending.Thatbungalowwassparselyfurnishedandallwithstuffthathe’dboughtcheapatsales.Hedidn’tlikespendingmoney,hejustwantedtohaveit.”
“Doyoumeanhebankeditall?”
“Ohno,”saidLejeune.“I’dsaywe’llfinditsomewhereunderthefloorinthatbungalowofhis.”
BothLejeuneandIweresilentforsomeminuteswhileIcontemplatedthestrangecreaturethatwasZachariahOsborne.
“Corrigan,”saidLejeunedreamily,“wouldsayitwasallduetosomeglandinhisspleenorhissweetbreadorsomethingeitheroverfunctioningorunderproducing—Inevercanrememberwhich.I’masimpleman—Ithinkhe’sjustawrong’un—Whatbeatsme—italwaysdoes—ishowamancanbesocleverandyetbesuchaperfectfool.”
“Oneimaginesamastermind,”Isaid,“assomegrandandsinisterfigureofevil.”
Lejeuneshookhishead.“It’snotlikethatatall,”hesaid.“Evilisnotsomethingsuperhuman,it’ssomethinglessthanhuman.Yourcriminalissomeonewhowantstobeimportant,butwhoneverwillbeimportant,becausehe’llalwaysbelessthanaman.”
Twenty-five
MarkEasterbrook’sNarrative
I
AtMuchDeepingeverythingwasrefreshinglynormal.
Rhodawasbusydoctoringdogs.Thistime,Ithink,itwasdeworming.ShelookedupasIcameinandaskedmeifIwouldliketoassist.IrefusedandaskedwhereGingerwas.
“She’sgoneovertothePaleHorse.”
“What?”
“Shesaidshehadsomethingtodothere.”
“Butthehouseisempty.”
“Iknow.”
“She’llovertireherself.She’snotfityet—”
“Howyoufuss,Mark.Ginger’sallright.HaveyouseenMrs.Oliver’snewbook?It’scalledTheWhiteCockatoo.It’soveronthetablethere.”
“GodblessMrs.Oliver.AndEdithBinns,too.”
“WhoonearthisEdithBinns?”
“Awomanwhohasidentifiedaphotograph.Alsofaithfulretainertomylategodmother.”
“Nothingyousayseemstomakesense.What’sthematterwithyou?”
Ididnotreply,butsetoutforthePaleHorse.
JustbeforeIgotthere,ImetMrs.DaneCalthrop.
Shegreetedmeenthusiastically.
“AllalongIknewIwasbeingstupid,”shesaid.“ButIdidn’tseehow.Takeninbytrappings.”
Shewavedanarmtowardstheinn,emptyandpeacefulinthelateautumnsunshine.
“Thewickednesswasneverthere—notinthesenseitwassupposedtobe.NofantastictraffickingwiththeDevil,noblackandevilsplendour.Justparlourtricksdoneformoney—andhumanlifeofnoaccount.That’srealwickedness.Nothinggrandorbig—justpettyandcontemptible.”
“YouandInspectorLejeunewouldseemtoagreeaboutthings.”
“Ilikethatman,”saidMrs.DaneCalthrop.“Let’sgointothePaleHorseandfindGinger.”
“What’sshedoingthere?”
“Cleaningupsomething.”
Wewentinthroughthelowdoorway.Therewasastrongsmellofturpentine.Gingerwasbusywithragsandbottles.Shelookedupasweentered.Shewasstillverypaleandthin,ascarfwoundroundherheadwherethehairhadnotyetgrown,aghostofherformerself.
“She’sallright,”saidMrs.DaneCalthrop,readingmythoughtsasusual.
“Look!”saidGingertriumphantly.
Sheindicatedtheoldinnsignonwhichshewasworking.
Thegrimeofyearsremoved,thefigureoftherideronthehorsewasplainlydiscernible;agrinningskeletonwithgleamingbones.
Mrs.DaneCalthrop’svoice,deepandsonorous,spokebehindme:
“Revelation,ChapterSix,VerseEight.AndIlookedandbeholdapalehorse:andhisnamethatsatonhimwasDeath,andHellfollowedwithhim.…”
Weweresilentforamomentortwo,andthenMrs.DaneCalthrop,whowasnotonetobeafraidofanticlimax,said,
“Sothat’sthat,”inthetoneofonewhoputssomethinginthewastepaperbasket.
“Imustgonow,”sheadded.“Mothers’Meeting.”
Shepausedinthedoorway,noddedatGinger,andsaidunexpectedly:
“You’llmakeagoodmother.”
ForsomereasonGingerblushedcrimson….
“Ginger,”Isaid,“willyou?”
“WillIwhat?Makeagoodmother?”
“YouknowwhatImean.”
“Perhaps…ButI’dpreferafirmoffer.”
Imadeherafirmoffer….
II
Afteraninterlude,Gingerdemanded:
“Areyouquitesureyoudon’twanttomarrythatHermiacreature?”
“Goodlord!”Isaid.“Iquiteforgot.”
Itookaletterfrommypocket.
“Thiscamethreedaysago,askingmeifI’dcometotheOldVicwithhertoseeLove’sLabour’sLost.”
Gingertooktheletteroutofmyhandandtoreitup.
“IfyouwanttogototheOldVicinfuture,”shesaidfirmly,“you’llgowithme.”
TheAgathaChristieCollection
THEHERCULEPOIROTMYSTERIES
MatchyourwitswiththefamousBelgiandetective.
TheMysteriousAffairatStylesTheMurderontheLinksPoirotInvestigatesTheMurderofRogerAckroydTheBigFourTheMysteryoftheBlueTrainPerilatEndHouseLordEdgwareDiesMurderontheOrientExpressThreeActTragedyDeathintheCloudsTheA.B.C.MurdersMurderinMesopotamiaCardsontheTableMurderintheMewsDumbWitnessDeathontheNileAppointmentwithDeathHerculePoirot’sChristmasSadCypressOne,Two,BuckleMyShoeEvilUndertheSunFiveLittlePigsTheHollowTheLaborsofHerculesTakenattheFloodTheUnderdogandOtherStoriesMrs.McGinty’sDeadAftertheFuneralHickoryDickoryDockDeadMan’sFollyCatAmongthePigeonsTheClocksThirdGirlHallowe’enPartyElephantsCanRememberCurtain:Poirot’sLastCase
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THEMISSMARPLEMYSTERIES
JointhelegendaryspinstersleuthfromSt.MaryMeadinsolvingmurdersfarandwide.
TheMurderattheVicarageTheBodyintheLibraryTheMovingFingerAMurderIsAnnouncedTheyDoItwithMirrorsAPocketFullofRye4:50FromPaddingtonTheMirrorCrack’dfromSidetoSideACaribbeanMysteryAtBertram’sHotelNemesisSleepingMurderMissMarple:TheCompleteShortStories
THETOMMYANDTUPPENCEMYSTERIES
Jumponboardwiththeentertainingcrime-solvingcouplefromYoungAdventurersLtd.
TheSecretAdversaryPartnersinCrimeNorM?BythePrickingofMyThumbsPosternofFate
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TheAgathaChristieCollection
Don’tmissasingleoneofAgathaChristie’sstand-alonenovelsandshort-storycollections.
TheManintheBrownSuitTheSecretofChimneysTheSevenDialsMysteryTheMysteriousMr.QuinTheSittafordMysteryParkerPyneInvestigatesWhyDidn’tTheyAskEvans?MurderIsEasyTheRegattaMysteryandOtherStoriesAndThenThereWereNoneTowardsZeroDeathComesastheEndSparklingCyanideTheWitnessfortheProsecutionandOtherStoriesCrookedHouseThreeBlindMiceandOtherStoriesTheyCametoBaghdadDestinationUnknownOrdealbyInnocenceDoubleSinandOtherStoriesThePaleHorseStaroverBethlehem:PoemsandHolidayStoriesEndlessNightPassengertoFrankfurtTheGoldenBallandOtherStoriesTheMousetrapandOtherPlaysTheHarlequinTeaSetExploremoreatwww.AgathaChristie.com
AbouttheAuthor
AgathaChristieisthemostwidelypublishedauthorofalltimeandinanylanguage,outsoldonlybytheBibleandShakespeare.HerbookshavesoldmorethanabillioncopiesinEnglishandanotherbillioninahundredforeignlanguages.Sheistheauthorofeightycrimenovelsandshort-storycollections,nineteenplays,twomemoirs,andsixnovelswrittenunderthenameMaryWestmacott.
ShefirsttriedherhandatdetectivefictionwhileworkinginahospitaldispensaryduringWorldWarI,creatingthenowlegendaryHerculePoirotwithherdebutnovelTheMysteriousAffairatStyles.WithTheMurderintheVicarage,publishedin1930,sheintroducedanotherbelovedsleuth,MissJaneMarple.Additionalseriescharactersincludethehusband-and-wifecrime-fightingteamofTommyandTuppenceBeresford,privateinvestigatorParkerPyne,andScotlandYarddetectivesSuperintendentBattleandInspectorJapp.
ManyofChristie’snovelsandshortstorieswereadaptedintoplays,films,andtelevisionseries.TheMousetrap,hermostfamousplayofall,openedin1952andisthelongest-runningplayinhistory.Amongherbest-knownfilmadaptationsareMurderontheOrientExpress(1974)andDeathontheNile(1978),withAlbertFinneyandPeterUstinovplayingHerculePoirot,respectively.OnthesmallscreenPoirothasbeenmostmemorablyportrayedbyDavidSuchet,andMissMarplebyJoanHicksonandsubsequentlyGeraldineMcEwanandJuliaMcKenzie.
ChristiewasfirstmarriedtoArchibaldChristieandthentoarchaeologistSirMaxMallowan,whomsheaccompaniedonexpeditionstocountriesthatwouldalsoserveasthesettingsformanyofhernovels.In1971sheachievedoneofBritain’shighesthonorswhenshewasmadeaDameoftheBritishEmpire.Shediedin1976attheageofeighty-five.Heronehundredandtwentiethanniversarywascelebratedaroundtheworldin2010.
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THEAGATHACHRISTIECOLLECTION
TheManintheBrownSuitTheSecretofChimneysTheSevenDialsMysteryTheMysteriousMr.QuinTheSittafordMysteryParkerPyneInvestigatesWhyDidn’tTheyAskEvans?MurderIsEasyTheRegattaMysteryandOtherStoriesAndThenThereWereNoneTowardsZeroDeathComesastheEndSparklingCyanideTheWitnessfortheProsecutionandOtherStoriesCrookedHouseThreeBlindMiceandOtherStoriesTheyCametoBaghdadDestinationUnknownOrdealbyInnocenceDoubleSinandOtherStoriesThePaleHorseStaroverBethlehem:PoemsandHolidayStoriesEndlessNightPassengertoFrankfurtTheGoldenBallandOtherStoriesTheMousetrapandOtherPlaysTheHarlequinTeaSet
TheHerculePoirotMysteries
TheMysteriousAffairatStylesTheMurderontheLinksPoirotInvestigatesTheMurderofRogerAckroydTheBigFourTheMysteryoftheBlueTrainPerilatEndHouseLordEdgwareDiesMurderontheOrientExpressThreeActTragedyDeathintheCloudsTheA.B.C.MurdersMurderinMesopotamiaCardsontheTableMurderintheMewsDumbWitnessDeathontheNileAppointmentwithDeathHerculePoirot’sChristmasSadCypressOne,Two,BuckleMyShoeEvilUndertheSunFiveLittlePigsTheHollowTheLaborsofHerculesTakenattheFloodTheUnderdogandOtherStoriesMrs.McGinty’sDeadAftertheFuneralHickoryDickoryDockDeadMan’sFollyCatAmongthePigeonsTheClocksThirdGirlHallowe’enPartyElephantsCanRememberCurtain:Poirot’sLastCase
TheMissMarpleMysteries
TheMurderattheVicarageTheBodyintheLibraryTheMovingFingerAMurderIsAnnouncedTheyDoItwithMirrorsAPocketFullofRye4:50fromPaddingtonTheMirrorCrack’dfromSidetoSideACaribbeanMysteryAtBertram’sHotelNemesisSleepingMurderMissMarple:TheCompleteShortStories
TheTommyandTuppenceMysteries
TheSecretAdversaryPartnersinCrimeNorM?BythePrickingofMyThumbsPosternofFate
Memoirs
AnAutobiographyCome,TellMeHowYouLiveCopyright
Thisbookisaworkoffiction.Thecharacters,incidents,anddialoguearedrawnfromtheauthor’simaginationandarenottobeconstruedasreal.Anyresemblancetoactualeventsorpersons,livingordead,isentirelycoincidental.
AGATHACHRISTIE?THEPALEHORSSE?.Copyright?1961AgathaChristieLimited(aChorioncompany).Allrightsreserved.
THEPALEHORSE?1962.PublishedbypermissionofG.P.Putnam’sSons,amemberofPenguinGroup(USA)Inc.Allrightsreserved.Nopartofthisbookmaybeusedorreproducedinanymannerwhatsoeverwithoutwrittenpermissionexceptinthecaseofbriefquotationsembodiedincriticalarticlesandreviews.Forinformation,addressHarperCollinsPublishers,10East53rdStreet,NewYork,NY10022.
LibraryofCongressCataloging-in-PublicationDataisavailableuponrequest.
EPubEdition?MAY2011ISBN:978-0-06-200670-7
1112131415
AboutthePublisher
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TableofContents
Cover
TitlePage
Dedication
Foreword
ChapterOne
ChapterTwo
ChapterThree
ChapterFour
ChapterFive
ChapterSix
ChapterSeven
ChapterEight
ChapterNine
ChapterTen
ChapterEleven
ChapterTwelve
ChapterThirteen
ChapterFourteen
ChapterFifteen
ChapterSixteen
ChapterSeventeen
ChapterEighteen
ChapterNineteen
ChapterTwenty
ChapterTwenty-one
ChapterTwenty-two
ChapterTwenty-three
ChapterTwenty-four
ChapterTwenty-five
AbouttheAuthor
OtherBooksbyAgathaChristie
Copyright
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