The Golden Ball and Other Stories

by Agatha Christie

  "I thought you might be interested to meet Mr. An-stmther. He knows something of Belgium. He has lately

  been heating news of your convent."

  Her eyes turned to me. A faint flush crept into her cheeks. "It's nothing, really," I hastened to explain. "But I was

  dining the other evening with a friend who was describing

  the mined walls of the convent to me."

  "So it was mined!"

  It was a soft exclamation, uttered more to herself than to us. Then looking at me once more, she asked hesitatingly:

  "Tell me, monsieur, did your friend say how--in what

  way--it was mined?"

  "It was blown up," I said, and added: "The peasants are

  afraid to pass that way at night."

  "Why are they afraid?"

  "Because of a black mark on a mined wall. They have

  a superstitious fear of it."

  She leaned forward.

  "Tell me, monsieur--quick--quick--tell me! What is that mark like?"

  "It has the shape of a huge hound," I answered. "The

  peasants call it the Hound of Death."

  "Ah!"

  A shrill cry burst from her lips.

  "It is tree then--it is tree. All that I remember is tree. It is not some black nightmare. It happened! It happened!"

  THE HOUND OF DEATH

  "What happened, my sister?" asked the doctor in a low voice.

  She turned to him eagerly.

  "I remembered. There on the steps, I remembered. I

  remembered the way of it. I used the power as we used to

  use it. I stood on the altar steps and I bade them to come

  no farther. I told them to depart in peace. They would not

  listen, they came on although I warned them. And so--"

  She leaned forward and made a curious gesture. "And so I

  loosed the Hound of Death on them .... "

  She lay back on her chair shivering all over, her eyes

  closed.

  The doctor rose, fetched a glass from a cupboard, half

  filled it with water, added a drop or two from a little bottle

  which he produced from his pocket, then took the glass to

  her.

  "Drink this," he said authoritatively.

  She obeyed--mechanically as it seemed. Her eyes looked

  far away as though they contemplated some inner vision of

  her own.

  "But then it is all true," she said. "Everything. The City

  of the Circles, the People of the Crystal--everything. It is

  all true."

  "It would seem so," said Rose.

  His voice was low and soothing, clearly designed to

  encourage and not to disturb her train of thought.

  "Tell me about the City," he said. "The City of Circles,

  I think you said?"

  She answered absently and mechanically.

  "Yes--there were three circles. The first circle for the

  chosen, the second for the priestesses, and the outer circle

  for the priests."

  "And in the center?"

  She drew her breath sharply and her voice sank to a tone

  of indescribable awe.

  "The House of the Crystal....'

  As she breathed the words, her right hand went to her

  forehead and her finger traced some figure there.

  Her figure seemed to grow more rigid, her eyes closed,

  she swayed a little--then suddenly she sat uptight with a

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  jerk, as though she had suddenly awakened.

  "What is it?" she said confusedly. "What have I been saying?"

  "It is nothing," said Rose. "You are tired. You want to rest. We will leave you."

  She seemed a little dazed as we took our departure.

  "Well," said Rose when we were outside. "What do you think of it?"

  He shot a sharp glance sideways at me.

  "I suppose her mind must be totally unhinged," I said slowly.

  "It struck you like that?"

  "No--as a matter of fact, she was--well, curiously convincing. When listening to her I had the impression that she

  actually had done what she claimed to do--worked a kind

  of gigantic miracle. Her belief that she did so seems genuine

  enough. That is why--"

  "That is why you say her mind must be unhinged. Qtiite so. But now approach the matter from another angle. Supposing

  that she did actually work that miracle--supposing

  that she did, personally, destroy a building and several

  hundred human beings."

  "By the mere exercise of will?" I said with a smile.

  "I should not put it quite like that. You will agree that one person could destroy a multitude by touching a switch

  which controlled a system of mines."

  "Yes, but that is mechanical."

  "True, that is mechanical, but it is, in essence, the harnessing and controlling of natural forces. The thunderstorm

  and the powerhouse are, fundamentally, the same thing."

  "Yes, but to control the thunderstorm we have to use

  mechanical means."

  Rose smiled.

  "I am going off at a tangent now. There is a substance called wintergreen. It occurs in nature in vegetable form.

  It can also be built up by man synthetically and chemically

  in the laboratory."

  "Well?"

  "My point is that there are often two ways of arriving at the same result. Ours is, admittedly, the synthetic way.

  There might be another. The extraordinary results arrived

  THE HOUND OF DEATH 135

  at by Indian fakirs, for instance, cannot be explained away in any easy fashion. The things we call supernatural are not

  necessarily supernatural at all. An electric flashlight would

  be supernatural to a savage. The supernatural is only the

  natural of which the laws are not yet understood."

  "You mean?" I asked, fascinated.

  "That I cannot entirely dismiss the possibility that a human being might be able to tap some vast destructive force

  and use it to further his or her ends. The means by which

  this was accomplished might seem to us supernatural--but

  would not be so in reality." I stared at him.

  He laughed.

  "It's a spectilation, that's all," he said lightly. "Tell me. did you notice a gesture she made when she mentioned the

  House of the Crystal?"

  "She put her hand to her forehead."

  "Exactly. And traced a circle there. Very much as a Catholic makes the sign of the cross. Now, I will tell you

  something rather interesting, Mr. Anstruther. The word

  crystal having occurred so often in my patient's rambling,

  I tried an experiment. I borrowed a crystal from someone

  and produced it unexpectedly one day to test my patient's

  reaction to it."

  "Well?"

  "Well, the result was very curious and suggestive. Her whole body stiffened. She stared at it as though unable to

  believe her eyes. Then she slid to her knees in front of it,

  murmured a few words--and fainted."

  "What were the few words?"

  "Very curious ones. She said: 'The Crystal/ Then the Faith still lives/'"

  "Extraordinary!"

  "Suggestive, is it not? Now the next curious thing. When she came round from her faint, she had forgotten the whole

  thing. I showed her the crystal and asked her if she knew

  what it was. She replied that she supposed it was a crystal

  such as fortunetellers used. I asked her if she had ever seen

  one before? She replied: 'Never, M. le docteur.' But I saw

  a puzzled look in her eyes. 'What troubles
you, my sister?"

  I asked. She replied: 'Because it is so strange. I have never

  136 Agatha Christie

  seen a crystal before and yet--it seems to me that I know

  it well. There is something--if only I could remember .... '

  The effort at memory was obviously so distressing to her

  that I forbade her to think any more. That was two weeks

  ago. I have purposely been biding my time. Tomorrow I

  shall proceed to a further experiment."

  "With the crystal?"

  "With the crystal. I shall get her to gaze into it. I think

  the result ought to be interesting."

  "What do you expect to get hold of?" I asked curiously.

  The words were idle ones but they had an unlooked-for

  result. Rose stiffened, flushed, and his manner when he

  spoke had changed insensibly. It was more formal, more

  professional.

  "Light on certain mental disorders imperfectly understood.

  Sister Marie Angelique is a most interesting study."

  So Rose's interest was purely professional? I wondered.

  "Do you mind if I come along, too?" I asked.

  It may have been my fancy, but I thought he hesitated

  before he replied. I had a sudden intuition that he did not

  want me.

  "Certainly. I can see no objection."

  He added:

  "I suppose you're not going to be down here very long?"

  "Only till the day after tomorrow."

  I fancied that the answer pleased him. His brow cleared

  and he began talking of some recent experiments carried

  out on guinea pigs.

  III

  I met the doctor by appointment the following afternoon,

  and we went together to Sister Marie Angelique. Today the

  doctor was all geniality. He was anxious, I thought, to efface

  the impression he had made the day before.

  "You must not take what I said too seriously," he observed,

  laughing. "I shouldn't like you to believe me a

  dabbler in occult sciences. The worst of me is I have an

  infernal weakness for making out a case."

  "Really?"

  THE HOUND OF DEATH

  137

  "Yes, and the more fantastic it is, the better I like it." He laughed as a man laughs at an amusing weakness.

  When we arrived at the cottage, the district nurse had

  something she wanted to consult Rose about, so I was left

  with Sister Marie Angelique.

  I saw her scrutinizing me closely. Presently she spoke. "The good nurse here, she tells me that you are the

  brother Of the kind lady at the big house where I wa brought

  when I came from Belgium?"

  "Yes," I said.-

  "She was very kind to me. She is good."

  She was silent, as though following out some train of thought. Then she said:

  "M. le docteur, he, too, is a good man?" I was a little embarrassed.

  "Why, yes. I mean--I think so."

  "Ah!" She paused and then said: "Certainly he has been very kind to me."

  "I'm sure he has."

  She looked up at me sharply.

  "Monsieur--you--you who speak to me now--do you believe that I am mad?"

  "Why, my sister, such an idea never---"

  She shook her head slowly--interrupting my protest.

  "Am I mad? I do not know--the things I remember--the things I forget..."

  She sighed, and at that moment Rose entered the room.

  He greeted her cheerily and explained what he wanted her to do.

  "Certain people, you see, have a gift for seeing things

  in a crystal. I fancy you might have such a gift, my sister." She looked distressed.

  "No, no, I cannot do that. To try to read the future--that is sinful."

  Rose was taken aback. It was the nun's point of view for which he had not allowed. He changed his ground cleverly.

  "One should not look into the future. You are quite right.

  But to look into the past--that is different."

  "The past?"

  "Yes--there are many strange things in the past. Flashes

  138 Agatha Christie

  come back to one--they are seen for a moment--then gone

  again. Do not seek to see anything in the crystal, since that

  is not allowed you. Just take it in your hands--so. Look

  into itwlook deep. Yes--deeper--deeper still. You remember,

  do you not? You remember. You hear me speaking

  to you. You can answer my questions. Can you not hear

  me?"

  Sister Marie Angelique had taken the crystal as bidden,

  handling it with a curious reverence. Then, as she gazed

  into it, her eyes became blank and unseeing, her head

  dropped. She seemed to sleep.

  Gently the doctor took the crystal from her and put it on

  the table. He raised the corner of her eyelid. Then he came

  and sat by me.

  "We must wait till shewakes. It won't be long, I fancy."

  He was right. At the end of five minutes, Sister Marie

  Angelique stirred. Her eyes opened dreamily.

  "Where am I?"

  "You are here--at home. You have had a little sleep.

  You have dreamt, have you not?"

  She nodded.

  "Yes, I have dreamt."

  "You have dreamt of the Crystal?"

  "Yes."

  "Tell us about it."

  "You will think me mad, M. le docteur. For see you, in

  my dream, the Crystal was a holy emblem. I even figured

  to myself a second Christ, a Teacher of the Crystal who

  died for his faith, his followers hunted down--persecuted

  .... But the faith endured."

  "The faith endured?"

  "Yes--for fifteen thousand full moons--I mean, for fifteen

  thousand years."

  "How long was a full moon?"

  "Thirteen ordinary moons. Yes, it was in the fifteenth

  thousandth full moon--of course, I was a Priestess of the

  Fifth Sign in the House of the Crystal. It was in the first

  days of the coming of the Sixth Sign..."

  Her brows drew together, a look of fear passed over her

  head.

  "Too soon," she murmured. "Too soon. A mis

  THE HOUND OF DEATH

  139

  take

  .... Ah, yes! I remember! The Sixth Sign!"

  She half sprang to her feet, then dropped back, passing

  her hand over her face and murmuring:

  "But what am I saying? I am raving. These things never

  happened."

  "Now don't distress yourself."

  But she was looking at him in anguished perplexity.

  "M. le docteur, I do not understand. Why should I have

  these dreams--these fancies? I was only sixteen when I

  entered the religious life. I have never travelled. Yet I dream

  of cities, of strange people, of strange customs. Why?" She

  pressed both hands to her head.

  "Have you ever been hypnotized, my sister? Or been in

  a state of trance?"

  "I have never been hypnotized, M. le docteur. For the

  other, when at prayer in the chapel, my spirit has often been

  caught up from my body, and I have been as one dead for

  many hours. It was undoubtedly a blessed state, the Reverend

  Mother said--a state of grace. Ah, yes!" She caught

  her breath. "I remember; we, too, called it a state of grace.'

  "I would like to U3, an experiment, my sister." Rose

  spoke in a matter-of-fact voice. "It may dispel those painful

/>   half-recollections. I will ask you to gaze once more in the

  crystal. I will then say a certain word to you. You will

  answer with another. We will continue in this way until you

  become tired. Concentrate your thoughts on the crystal, not

  upon the words."

  As I once more unwrapped the crystal and gave it into

  Sister Marie Angelique's hands, I noticed the reverent way

  her hands touched it. Reposing on the black velvet, it lay

  between her slim palms. Her wonderful deep eyes gazed

  into it. There was a short silence, then the doctor said: "Hound."

  Immediately Sister Marie Angelique answered: "Death."

  I do not propose to give a full account of the experiment.

  Many unimportant and meaningless words were purposely

  introduced by the doctor. Other words he repeated several

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  times, sometimes getting the same answer to them, sometimes a different one.

  That evening in the doctor's little cottage on the cliffs we discussed the result of the experiment.

  He cleared his throat and drew his notebook closer to him.

  "These results are very interesting--very curious. In answer to the words 'Sixth Sign,' we get variously Destruction,

  Purple, Hound, Power, then again Destruction, and finally Power. Later, as you may have noticed, I reversed the

  method, with the following results. In answer to Destruction, I get Hound; to Purple, Power; to Hound, Death again,

  and to Power, Hound. That all holds together, but on a

  second repetition of Destruction, I get Sea, which appears

  utterly irrelevant. To the words 'Fifth Sign,' I get Blue,

  Thoughts, Bird, Blue again, and finally the rather suggestive

  phrase Opening of mind to mind. From the fact that 'Fourth

  Sign' elicits the word Yellow, and later Light, and that 'First

  Sign' is answered by Blood, I deduce that each Sign had a

  particular colour, and possibly a particular symbol, that of

  the Fifth Sign being a bird, and that of the Sixth a hound. However, I surmise that the Fifth Sign represented what is

  familiarly known as telepathy--the opening of mind to

  mind. The Sixth Sign undoubtedly stands for the Power of

  Destruction."