Mrs McGinty's Dead / the Labours of Hercules (Agatha Christie Collected Works)

by Agatha Christie

keep and feed ourselves in a frugal manner so that I am not absolutely

  dependent on what I earn."

  "I must consider," said Poirot, "where your talents may best be

  employed. You have no idea yourself, I suppose?"

  '.You know, you must really be a thought reader, M.

  Poirot. I have been anxious lately about a friend of mine.

  I was going to consult you. Of course you may say it is all an old

  maid's fancy-just imagination. One is prone, perhaps, to exaggerate,

  and to see design where there may be.

  only coincidence."

  "I do not think that you would exaggerate, Miss Carnaby. Tell me what

  is on your mind."

  "Well, I have a friend, a very dear friend, though I have not seen very

  much of her of late years. Her name is Emmeline Clegg. She married a

  man in the north of England and he died a few years ago, leaving her

  very comfortably off. She was unhappy and lonely after his death and I

  am afraid she is in some ways a rather foolish and perhaps credulous

  woman. Religion, M. Poirot, can be a great help and sustenance-but by

  that I mean orthodox religion."

  "You refer to the Greek church?" asked Poirot.

  Miss Carnaby looked shocked.

  "Oh, no, indeed. Church of England. And though I do not approve of

  Roman Catholics, they are at least recog nized. And the Wesleyans and

  Congregationalists-they are all well-known, respectable bodies. What I

  am talking about are these odd sects. They just spring up. They have a

  kind of emotional appeal but sometimes I have very grave doubts as to

  whether there is any true religious feeling behind them at all."

  "You think your friend is being victimized by a sect of this kind?"

  "I do. Oh, I certainly dol The Flock of the Shepherd, they call

  themselves. Their headquarters is in Devonshire -a very lovely estate

  by the sea. The adherents go there for what they term a retreat. That

  is a period of a fortnightwith religious services and rituals. And

  there are three big festivals in the year: the Coming of the Pasture,

  the Full Pasture, and the Reaping of the Pasture."

  "Which last is stupid," said Poirot. "Because one does not reap

  pasture."

  "The whole thing is stupid," said Miss Carnaby with warmth. "The whole

  sect centers round the head of the movement, the Great Shepherd, he is

  called. A Dr. Andersen. A very handsome-looking man, I believe, with

  a presence."

  "Which is attractive to the women, yes?"

  "I am afraid so," Miss Carnaby sighed. "My father was a very handsome

  man. Sometimes it was most awkward in the parish. The rivalry in

  embroidering vestments-and the division of church work-"

  She shook her head reminiscently.

  "Are the members of the Great Flock mostly women?"

  "At least three quarters of them, I gather. What men

  there are, are mostly crankst It is upon the women that the success of

  the movement depends and-and on the funds they supply."

  "Ah," said Poirot. "Now we come to it. Frankly, you think the whole

  thing is a ramp?"

  "Frankly, M. Poirot, I do. And another thing worries me. I happen to

  know that my poor friend is so bound up in this religion that she has

  recently made a will leaving all her property to the movement."

  Poirot said sharply, "Was that-suggested to her?"

  "In all fairness, no. It was entirely her own idea. The Great Shepherd

  had shown her a new way of life-so all that she had was to go on her

  death to the great Cause.

  What really worries me is-"

  "Yes-go on-"

  "Several very wealthy women have been among the devotees. In the last

  year three of them, no less, have died."

  "Leaving all their money to this sect?"

  ."Yes."

  "Their relations have made no protest? I should have thought it likely

  that there might have been litigation."

  "You see, M. Poirot, it is usually lonely women who belong to this

  gathering. People who have no very near relations or friends."

  Poirot nodded thoughtfully. Miss Carnaby hurried on.

  "Of course, I've no right to suggest anything at all. From what I have

  been able to find out, there was nothing wrong about any of these

  deaths. One, I believe, was pneumonia following influenza, and another

  was attributed to gastric ulcer. Tfiere were absolutely no suspicious

  circumstances, if you know what I mean, and the deaths did not take

  place at Green Hills Sanctuary but at their own homes. I've no doubt it

  is quite all right, but all the same I-well-I shouldn't like anything to

  happen to Emmie."

  She clasped her hands, her eyes appealed to Poirot.

  Poirot himself was silent for some minutes. When he spoke there was a

  change in his voice. It was grave and deep.

  He said, "Will you give me, or will you find out for me,

  the names and addresses of these members of the sect who have recently

  died?"

  "Yes, indeed, M. Poirot."

  Poirot said slowly, "Mademoiselle, I think you are a woman of great

  courage and determination. You have good histrionic powers. Would you

  be willing to undertake a piece of work that may be attended with

  considerable danger?"

  "I should like nothing better," said the adventurous Miss Carnaby.

  Poirot said warningly, "If there is a risk at all, it will be a grave

  one. You comprehend-either this is a mare's nest or else it is serious.

  To find out which it is, it will be necessary for you yourself to become

  a member of the Great Flock. I would suggest that you exaggerate the

  amount of the legacy that you recently inherited. You are now a

  wellto-do woman with no very definite aim in life. You argue with your

  friend Emmeline about this religion she has adopted-assure her that it

  is all nonsense. She is eager to convert you. You allow yourself to be

  persuaded to go down to Green Hills Sanctuary. And there you fall a

  victim to the persuasive powers and magnetic influence of Dr. Andersen.

  I think I can safely leave that part to you?"

  Miss Carnaby smiled modestly.

  She murmured, "I think I can manage that all right, M. Poirotl"

  "Well, my friend, what have you got for me?"

  Chief Inspector japp looked thoughtfully at the little man who asked the

  question.

  He said ruefully, "Not at all what I'd like to have, Poirot. I hate

  these long-haired religious cranks like poison.

  Filling up women with a lot of mumbo-jumbo. But this fellow's being

  careful. There's nothing one can get hold of. All sounds a bit batty

  but harmless."

  "Have you learned anything about this Dr. Andersen?"

  "I've looked up his past history. He was a promising chemist and got

  chucked out of some German University.

  Seenis his mother was Jewish. He was always keen on the

  study of Oriental Myths and Religions, spent all his spare time on that

  and has written various articles on the subject-some of the articles

  sound pretty crazy to me."

  "So it is possible that he is a genuine fanatic?"

  "I'm bound to say it seems quite likelyl"

  "What about those names and a
ddresses I gave you?"

  "Nothing doing there. Miss Everitt died of ulcerative colitis. Doctor

  quite positive there was no hanky-panky.

  Mrs. Lloyd died of broncho-pneumonia. Lady Western died of

  tuberculosis. Had suffered from it many years ago -before she even met

  this bunch. Miss Lee died of typhoid -attributed to some salad she ate

  somewhere in the north of England. Three of them got ill and died in

  their own homes, and Mrs. Lloyd died in a hotel in the south of France.

  As far as those deaths go, there's nothing to connect them with the

  Great Flock or with Andersen's place down in Devonshire. Must be pure

  coincidence. Allabsolutely okay and according to Cocker."

  Hercule Poirot sighed. He said, "And yet, mon cher, I have a feeling

  that this is the tenth Labor of Hercules, and that this Dr. Andersen is

  the Monster Geryon whom it is my mission to destroy."

  japp looked at him anxiously.

  "Look here, Poirot, you haven't been reading any queer literature

  yourself lately, have you?"

  Poirot said with dignity, "My remarks are, as always, apt, sound, and to

  the point."

  "You might start a new religion yourself," said japp, with the creed:

  "There is no one so clever as Hercule Poirot, Amen, D.C. Repeat ad

  lib'l"

  ,.It is the peace here that I find so wonderful," said Miss Carnaby,

  breathing heavily and ecstatically.

  "I told you so, Amy," said Emmeline Clegg.

  The two friends were sitting on the slope of a hillside overlooking a

  deep and lovely blue sea. The grass was vivid green, the earth and the

  cliffs a deep, glowing red. The little estate now known as Green Wills

  Sanctuary was a promontory comprising about six acres. Only a narrow

  neck of land joined it to the mainland so that it was almost an island.

  Mrs. Clegg murmured sentimentally, "The red landthe land of glow and

  promise-where threefold destiny is to be accomplished."

  Miss Carnaby sighed deeply and said, "I thought the Master put it all so

  beautifully at the service last night."

  ."Wait," said her friend, "for the festival tonight. The Full Growth of

  the Pasturer"

  "I'm looking forward to it," said Miss Carnaby.

  "You will find it a wonderful spiritual experience," her friend promised

  her.

  Miss Carnaby had arrived at Green Hills Sanctuary a week previously. Her

  attitude on arrival had been: Now what's all this nonsense? Really,

  Emmie, a sensible woman like you-etc., etc.

  At a preliminary interview with Dr. Andersen, she had conscientiously

  made her position quite clear.

  "I don't want to feel that I am here under false pretenses, Dr.

  Andersen. My father was a clergyman of the Church of England and I have

  never wavered in my faith.

  I don't hold with heathen doctrines."

  The big golden-haired man had smiled at her-a very sweet and

  understanding smile. He had looked indulgently at the plump, rather

  belligerent figure sitting so squarely in her chair.

  "Dear Miss Carnaby," he said. "You are Mrs. Clegg's friend, and as

  such welcome. And, believe me, our doctrines are not heathen. Here all

  religions are welcomed, and all honored equally."

  "Then they shouldn't be," said the staunch daughter of the late Reverend

  Thomas Carnaby.

  Leaning back in his chair, the Master murmured in his rich voice, "In my

  Father's House are many mansions....

  Remember that, Miss Carnaby."

  As they left the presence, Miss Carnaby murmured to her friend, "He

  really is a very handsome man."

  "Yes," said Emmeline Clegg. "And so wonderfully spiritual."

  Miss Carnaby agreed. It was true-she had felt it-an aura of

  unworldliness-of spirituality.

  She took a grip upon herself. She was not here to fall a prey to the

  fascination, spiritual or otherwise, of the Great Shepherd. She

  conjured up a vision of Hercule Poirot. He seemed very far away, and

  curiously mundane.

  Amy, said Miss Carnaby to herself, take a grip upon yourself. Remember

  what you are here for.

  But as the days went on, she found herself surrendering only too easily

  to the spell of Green Hills. The peace, the simplicity, the delicioifs

  though simple food, the beauty of the services with their chants of Love

  and Worship, the simple, moving words of the Master, appealing to all

  that was best and highest in humanity-here all the strife and ugliness

  of the world was shut out. Here was only Peace and Love.

  And tonight was the great summer Festival, the Festival of the Full

  Pasture. And at it, she, Amy Carnaby, was to become initiated-to become

  one of the Flock.

  The Festival took place in the white glittering concrete building,

  called by the Initiates the Sacred Fold. Here the devotees assembled

  just before the setting of the sun. They wore sheepskin cloaks and had

  sandals on their feet. Their arms were bare. In the center of the Fold

  on a raised platform stood Dr. Andersen. The big man, golden-haired

  and blue-eyed, with his fair beard and his handsome profile, had never

  seemed more compelling. He was dresse2l in a green robe and carried a

  shepherd's crook of gold.

  He raised this aloft and a deathly silence fell on the assembly.

  "Where are my sheep?"

  The answer came from the crowd: "We are here, Shepherd."

  "Lift up your hearts with joy and thanksgiving. This is the Feast of

  joy."

  "The Feasi o? Joy and we are joyful."

  "There shall be no more sorrow for you, no more pain.

  All is joyl"

  "All is joy.

  "How many heads has the Shepherd?"

  "Three heads; a head of gold, a head of silver, a head of sounding

  brass."

  :'How many bodies have the Sheep?"

  'Three bodies; a body of flesh, a body of corruption, and a body of

  light."

  "How shall you be sealed in the Flock?"

  "By the Sacrament of Blood."

  ,:Are you prepared for that Sacrament?"

  We are."

  "Bind your eyes and hold forth your right arm."

  The crowd obediently bound their eyes with the green scarves provided

  for the purpose. Miss Carnaby, like the rest, held her arm out in front

  of her.

  The Great Shepherd moved along the lines of his Flock.

  There were little cries, moans of either pain or ecstasy.

  Miss Carnaby, to herself, said fiercely, Most blasphemous, the whole

  thing! This kind of religious hysteria is to be deplored. I shall

  remain absolutely calm and observe the reactions of other people. I

  will not be carried awayI will not.

  The Great Shepherd had come to her. She felt her arm taken, held, there

  was a sharp stinging pain like the prick of a needle. The Shepherd's

  voice murmured: "The Sacrament of Blood that brings joy. . .

  He passed on.

  Presently there came a command.

  "Unveil and enjoy the pleasures of the spiritl"

  The sun was just sinking. Miss Carnaby looked round her. At one with

  the others, she moved slowly out of the Fold. She felt suddenly

  uplifted, happy. She sank
down on .a soft grassy bank. Why had she

  ever thought she was a lonely, unwanted middle-aged woman? Life was

  wonderful-she herself was wonderfull She had the power of thought-of

  dreaming. There was nothing that she could not accomplishl

  A great rush of exhilaration surged through her. She observed her

  fellow devotees round her-they seemed suddenly to have grown to an

  immense stature.

  Like trees walking, said Miss Carnaby to herself reverently.

  She lifted her hand. It was a purposeful gesture-with it she could

  command the earth. Caesar, Napoleon, Hitlerpoor miserable little

  fellowsl They knew nothing of what she, Amy Carnaby, could dol Tomorrow

  she would arrange for World Peace, for International Brotherhood.

  There should be no more wars-no more poverty-no more disease. She, Amy

  Carnaby, would design a New World.

  But there need be no hurry. Time was infinite.... Minute succeeded

  minute, hour succeeded hour! Miss Carnaby's limbs felt heavy, but her

  mind was delightfully free. It could roam at will over the whole

  universe. She slept-but even as she slept she dreamed. . . . Great

  spaces . vast buildings ... a new and wonderful world....

  Gradually the world shrank, Miss Carnaby yawned. She moved her stiff

  limbs. What had happened since yesterday?

  Last night she had dreamed There was a moon. By it, Miss Carnaby could

  just distinguish the figures on her watch. To her stupefaction the

  hands pointed to a quarter to ten. The sun, as she knew, had set at

  eight-ten. Only an hour and thirty-five minutes ago? Impossible. And

  yetVery remarkable, said Miss Carnaby to herself.

  Hercule Poirot said, "You must obey my instructions very carefully. You

  understand?"

  "Oh, yes, M. Poirot. You may rely on me."

  ::You have spoken of your intention to benefit the cult?"

  Yes, M. Poirot. I spoke to the Master-excuse n)e-to Dr. Andersen

  myself. I told him very emotionally what a wonderful revelation the

  whole thing had been-how I had come to scoff and remained to believe.

  I-really it seemed quite natural to say all these things. Dr. Andersen,

  you know, has a lot of magnetic charm."

  "So I perceive," said Hercule Poirot dryly.

  "His manner was most convincing. One really feels he doesn't care about

  money at all. 'Give what you can,' he

  said, smiling in that wonderful way of his; 'if you can give" nothing,

  it does not matter. You are one of the Flock just the same." 'Oh, Dr.

  Andersen,' I said, 'I am not so badly off as that. I have just

  inherited a considerable amount of money from a distant relative and

  though I cannot actually touch any of the money until the legal

  formalities are all complied with, there is one thing I want to do at

  once." And then I explained that I was making a will and that I wanted

  to leave all I had to the Brothelhood. I explained that I had no near

  relatives."

  "And he graciously accepted the bequest?"

  "He was very detached about it. Said it would be many long years before

  I passed over, that he could tell I was cut out for a long life of joy

  and spiritual fulfillment. He really speaks most movingly."

  "So it would seem."

  Poirot's tone was dry. He went on: "You mentioned your health?"

  "Yes, M. Poirot. I told him that I had had lung trouble, and that it

  had recurred more than once, but that a final treatment in a sanitarium

  some years ago had, I hoped, quite cured me."

  "Excellentl"

  "Though why it is necessary for me to say that I am consumptive when my