lungs are as sound as a bell I really cannot see."
"Be assured it is necessary. You mentioned your friend?"
"Yes. I told him (strictly in confidence) that dear Emmeline, besides
the fortune she had inherited from her husband, would inherit an even
larger sum shortly from an aunt who was deeply attached to her."
"Eh bien, that ought to keep Mrs. Clegg safe for the time beingl"
"Oh, M. Poirot, do you really think there is anything wrong?"
"That is what I am going to endeavor to find out. Have you met a Mr.
Cole down at the Sanctuary?"
"There was a Mr. Cole there last time I went down. A most peculiar
man. He wears grass-green sliorts and eats
nothing but cabbage. He is a very ardent believer."
"Eh bien, all progresses well-I make you my compliments on the work you
have done-all is now set for the Autumn Festival."
"Miss Carnaby-just a moment."
Mr. Cole clutched at Miss Carnaby, his eyes bright and feverish.
" I have had a vision-a most remarkable vision. I really must tell you
about it."
Miss Carnaby sighed. She was rather afraid of Mr. Cole and his
visions. There were moments when she was decidedly of the opinion that
Mr. Cole was mad.
And she found these visions of his sometimes very embarrassing. They
recalled to her certain outspoken passages in that very modern German
book on the subconscious mind which she had read before coming down to
Devon.
Mr. Cole, his eyes glistening, his lips twitching, began to talk
excitedly.
"I had been meditating-reflecting on the Fullness of Life, on the
Supreme joy of Oneness-and then, you know, my eyes were opened and I
saw-"
Miss Carnaby braced herself and hoped that what Mr. Cole had seen would
not be what he had seen last timewhich had been, apparently, a Ritual
Marriage in ancient Sumeria between a god and goddess.
"I saw"-Mr. Cole leaned toward her, breathing hard his eyes looking
(yes, really they did) quite mad-"the Prophet Elijah'descending from
Heaven in his fiery chariot."
Miss Carnaby breathed a sigh of relief. Elijah was much better, she
didn't mind Elijah.
"Below," went on Mr. Cole, "were the altars of Baalhundreds and
hundreds of them. A voice cried to me, 'Look, write and testify that
which you shall see-' "
He stopped and Miss Carnaby murmured politely, "Yes?"
"On the altars were the sacrifices, bound there, helpless,
waiting for the knife. Virgins-hundreds of virgins-young, beautiful,
naked virgins-"
Mr. Cole smacked his lips, Miss Carnaby blushed.
"Then came the ravens, the ravens of Odin, flying from the North. They
met the ravens of Elijah-together they circled in the sky-they swooped,
they plucked out the eyes of the victims-there was wailing and gnashing
of teeth-and the Voice cried, Behold a Sacrifice-for on this day shall
Jehovah and Odin sign blood brotherhoodt Then the Priests fell upon
their victims, they raised their knives-they mutilate& their victims-"
Desperately Miss Carnaby broke away from her tormentor who was now
slavering at the mouth in a kind of sadistic fervor.
"Excuse me one moment."
She hastily accosted Lipscomb, the man who occupied the Lodge which gave
admission to Green Hills and who providentially happened to be passing.
"I wonder," she said, "if you have found a broach of mine. I must have
dropped it somewhere about the grounds."
Lipscomb, who was a man immune from the general sweetness and light of
Green Hills, merely growled that he hadn't seen any broach. It wasn't
his work to go about looking for things. He tried to shake off Miss
Carnaby but she accompanied him, babbling about her broach, till she had
put a safe distance between herself and the fervor of Mr. Cole.
At that moment, the Master himself came out of the Great Fold and,
emboldened by his benignant smile, Miss Carna ventured to speak her mind
to him.
DidbZe think that Mr. Cole was quite-was quiteThe Master laid a hand on
her shoulder.
"You must cast out Fear," he said. '."Perfect Love casteth out Fear."
"But I think Mr. Cole is mad. Those visions he has-"
"As yet," said the Master, "he sees Imperfectly-through the Glass of his
own Carnal Nature. But the day will come when he shall see
Spiritually-Face to Face."
Miss Carnaby was abashed. Of course, put like that- She rallied to make
a smaller protest.
"And really," she said, Oneed Lipscomb be so abominably rude?"
Again the Master gave his Heavenly Smile.
"Lipscomb," he said, "is a faithful watchdog. He is a crude-a primitive
soul-but faithful-utterly faithful."
He strode on. Miss Carnaby saw him meet Mr. Cole, pause, put a hand on
Mr. Cole's shoulder. She hoped that the Master's influence might altar
the scope of future visions.
In any case, it was only a week now to the Autumn Festival.
On the afternoon preceding the Festival, Miss Carnaby met Hercule Poirot
in a small teashop in the sleepy little town of Newton Woodbury. Miss
Carnaby was flushed and even more breathless than usual. She sat
sipping tea and crumbling a rock bun between her fingers.
Poirot asked several questions to which she replied monosyllabically.
Then he said, "How many will there be at the Festival?"
"I think a hundred and twenty. Emmeline is there, of course, and Mr.
Cole-really he has been very odd lately.
He has visions. He described some of them to me-really most peculiar. I
hope, I do hope, he is not insane. Then there will be quite a lot of
new members-nearly twenty."
"Good. You know what you have to do?"
There was a moment's pause before Miss Carnaby said in a rather odd
voice: "I know what you told me, M. Poirot. . .
"Trhs bien!"
Then Amy Carnaby said clearly and distinctly, "But I am not going to do
it."
Hercule Poirot stared at her. Miss Carnaby rose to her feet. Her voice
came fast and. hysterical.
"You sent me here to spy on Dr. Andersen. You suspected him of all
sorts of things. But he is a wonderful man -a great Teacher. I believe
in him heart and soull And I
am not going to do your spying work any more, M. Poirotl I am one of
the Sheep of the Shepherd. The Master has a new passage for the World
and from now on I belong to him body and soul. And I'll pay for my own
tea, please."
With which slight anticlimax Miss Carnaby planked down one and
threepence and rushed out of the teashop.
"Nom d'lln nom d'lln nom," said Hercule Poirot.
The waitress had to ask him twice before he realized that she was
presenting the bill. He met the interested stare of a surly-looking man
at the next table, flushed, paid the check, and got up and went out.
He was thinking furiously.
Once again the Sheep were assembled in the Great Fold.
The Ritual Questions and Answers had been chanted.
:'Are you prepared for the Sacrament?"
'We are."
"Bind your eyes and hold out
your right arm."
The Great Shepherd, magnificent in his green robe, moved along the
waiting lines. Mr. Cole, next to Miss Carnaby, gave a gulp of painful
ecstasy as the needle pierced his flesh.
The Great Shepherd stood by Miss Carnaby. His hands touched her arm
"No, you don't. None of that.
Words incredible-unprecedented. A scuffle, a roar of anger. Green
veils were torn from eyes-to see an unbelievable sight-the Great
Shepherd struggling in the grasp of the sheepskinned Mr. Cole aided by
another devotee.
In rapid professional tones, the erstwhile Mr. Cole was saying:
-and I have here a warrant for your arrest. I must warn you that
anything you say may be used in evidence at your trial."
There were other figures now at the door of the Sheep
Fold-blue-uniformed figures.
Someone cried, "It's the police. They're taking the Master away.
They're taking the Master......
Everyone was shocked-horrified. To them the Great
Shepherd was a martyr, suffering, as all great teachers suffer, from the
ignorance and persecution of the outside world.
Meanwhile Detective Inspector Cole was carefully packing up the
hypodermic syringe that had fallen from the Great Shepherd's hand.
"My brave colleaguer"
Poirot shook Miss Carnaby warmly by the hand and introduced her to Chief
Inspector japp.
"First-class work, Miss Carnaby," said Chief Inspector japp. "We
couldn't have done it without you and that's a fact."
"Oh, dear[" Miss Carnaby was fluttered. "It's so kind of YOU to say so.
And I'm afraid, you know, that I've really enjoyed it all. The
excitement, you know, and playing my part. I got quite carried away
sometimes. I really felt I was one of those foolish women'
'That's where your success lay," said japp. "You were the genuine
article. Nothing less would have taken that gentleman inl He's a pretty
astute scoundrel."
Miss Carnaby turned to Poirot.
..That was a terrible moment in the teashop. I didn't know what to do.
I just had to act on the spur of the moment."
"You were magnificent," said Poirot warmly. "For a moment I thought
that either you or I had taken leave of our senses. I thought for one
little minute that you meant it."
"It was such a shock," said Miss Carnaby. "Just when we had been
talking confidentially, I saw in the glass that Lipscomb, who keeps the
Lodge of the Sanctuary, was sitting at the table behind me. I don't
know now if it was an accident or if he had actually followed me. As I
say, I had to do the best I could on the spur of the minute and trust
that you would understand."
Poirot smiled. "I did understand. There was only one person sitting
near enough to overhear anything we said and as soon as I left the
teashop I arranged to have him
followed when he came out. When he went straight back to the Sanctuary
I understood that I could rely on you and that you would not let me
down-but I was afraid because it increased the danger for you."
"Was-was there really danger? What was there in the syringe?"
japp said, "Will you explain, or shall I?"
Poirot said gravely, "Mademoiselle, this Dr. Andersen had perfected a
scheme of exploitation and murder-scientific murder. Most of his life
has been spent in bacteriological research. Under a different name he
has a chemical laboratory in Sheffield. There he makes cultures of
various bacilli. It was his practice, at the Festivals, to inject into
his followers a small but sufficient dose of cannabis indica -which is
also known by the names of hashish or bhang.
This gives delusions of grandeur and pleasurable enjoyment. It bound
his devotees to him. These were the Spiritual joys that he promised
them."
"Most remarkable," said Miss Carnaby. "Really a most remarkable
sensation."
Hercule Poirot nodded. "That was his general stock in trade-a
dominating personality, the power of creating mass hysteria, and the
reactions produced by this drug.
But he had a second aim in view.
"Lonely women, in their gratitude and fervor, made wills leaving their
money to the Cult. One by one, these women died. They died in their
own homes and apparently of natural causes. Without being too technical
I will try to explain. It is possible to make intensified cultures of
certain bacteria. The bacillus colicommunis, for instance, the cause of
ulcerative colitis. Typhoid bacilli can be introduced into the system.
So can the pneumococcus. There is also what is termed old tuberculin
which is harmless to a healthy person but which stimulates any old
tubercular lesion into activity. You perceive the cleverness of the
man? These deaths would occur in different parts of the country, with
different doctors attending them and without any risk of arousing
suspicion. He had also, I gather, cultivated a substance which had the
power of delaying
but intensifying the action of the chosen bacillus."
"He's a devil, if there ever was onel" said Chief Inspector japp.
Poirot went on: "By my orders, you told him that you were a tuberculous
subject. There was old tuberculin in the syringe when Cole arrested
him. Since you were a healthy person it would not have harmed you,
which is why I made you lay stress on your tubercular trouble. I was
terrified that even now he might choose some other germ, but I respected
your courage and I had to let you take the risk."
"Oh, that's all right," said Miss Carnaby brightly. "I don't mind
taking risks. I'm only frightened of bulls in fields and things like
that. But have you enough evidence to convict this dreadful person?"
japp grinned. , 'Plenty of evidence," he said. "We've got his
laboratory and his cultures and the whole layoutl"
Poirot said, "It is possible, I think, that he has committed a long line
of murders. I may say that it was not be.
cause his mother was a jewess that he was dismissed from that German
University. That merely made a convenient tale to account for his
arrival here and to gain sympathy for him. Actually, I fancy, he is of
pure Aryan blood."
Miss Carnaby sighed.
:'Qu'est-ce qu'il y a?" asked Poirot.
'I was thinking," said Miss Carnaby, "of a marvelous dream I had at the
First Festival-hashish, I suppose. I arranged the whole world so
beautifullyl No wars, no poverty, no ill health, no ugliness ... no
crime. . . ."
"It must have been a fine dream," said japp enviously.
Miss Carnaby jumped up.
She said, "I must get home. Emily has been so anxious.
And dear Augustus has been missing me terribly, I hear."
Hercule Poirot said with a smile, "He was afraid, perhaps, that, like
him, you were going to 'die for Hercule Poirot'I"
HERCULE POIROT LOOKET) THOUGHTFULLY into the face of the man behind the
big mahogany desk. He noted the generous brow, the mean mouth, the
rapacious line of the jaw, and the piercing visionary eyes. He
understood fro
m looking at the man why Emery Power had become the great
financial force that he was.
And his eyes falling to the long delicate hands, exquisitely shaped,
that lay on the desk, he understood, too, why Emery Power had attained
renown as a great collector. He was known on both sides of the Atlantic
as a connoisseur of works of art. His passion for the artistic went
hand in hand with an equal passion for the historic. It was not enough
for him that a thing should be beautiful-he demanded also that it should
have a tradition behind it.
Emery Power was speaking. His voice was quiet-a small, distinct voice
that was more effective than any mere volume of sound could have been.
"You do not, I know, take many cases nowadays. But I think you will
take this one."
"It is, then, an affair of great moment?"
Emery Power said, "It is of moment to me."
Poirot remained in an inquiring attitude, his head slightly on one side.
He looked like a meditative robin.
The other went on.
"It concerns the recovery of a work of art. To be exact, a gold chased
goblet, dating from the Renaissance. It is said to be the goblet used
by Pope Alexander VI-Roderigo Borgia. He sometimes presented it to a
favored guest to drink from. That guest, M. Poirot, usually died."
:'A pretty history," Poirot murmured.
'Its career has always been associated with violence. It has been
stolen more than once. Murder has been done to
gain possession of it. A trail of bloodshed has followed it through the
ages."
"On account of its intrinsic value or for other reasons?"
"Its intrinsic value is certainly considerable. The workmanship is
exquisite (it is said to have been made by Benvenuto Cellinf). The
design represents a tree round which a jeweled serpent is coiled and the
apples on the tree are formed of very beautiful emeralds."
Poirot murmured with an apparent quickening of interest, "Apples?"
"The emeralds are particularly fine, so are the rubies in the serpent,
but of course the real value of the cup is its historical associations.
It was put up for sale by the Marchese di San Veratrino ten years ago.
Collectors bid against each other and I secured it finally for a sum
equaling (at the then rate of exchange) thirty thousand pounds."
Poirot raised his eyebrows.
He murmured, "Indeed a princely suml The Marchese di San Veratrino was
fortunate."
Emery Power said, "When I really want a thing, I am willing to pay for
it, M. Poirot."
Hercule Poirot said softly, "You have no doubt heard
the Spanish proverb: Take what you want-and Pay for it, says God."
For a moment the'financier frowned-a swift light of anger showed in his
eyes.
He said coldly., "You are by way of being a philosopher, M. Poirot."
"I have arrived at the age of reflection, Monsieur."
"Doubtless. But it is not reflection that will restore my goblet to
me."
"You think not?"
"I fancy action will be necessary. It
Hercule Poirot nodded placidly. "A lot of people make the same mistake.
But I demand your pardon, Mr. Power, we have digressed from the matter
in hand. You were saying that you had bought the cup from the Marchese
di San Veratrino?"
"Exactly. What I have now to tell you is that it was
stolen before it actually came into my possession."
"How did that happen?"
"The Marchese's Palace was broken into on the night of the sale and