Curtain - Agatha Christie [68]
‘Yes, there is there the perfection of the art of murder. Not even a word of direct suggestion. He is always holding back others from violence, refuting with horror suspicions that have not been entertained until he mentions them!
‘And the same technique is seen in the brilliant third act of John Fergueson, where the “half-witted” Clutie John induces others to kill the man that he himself hates. It is a wonderful piece of psychological suggestion.
‘Now you must realize this, Hastings. Everyone is a potential murderer. In everyone there arises from time to time the wish to kill – though not the will to kill. How often have you not felt or heard others say: “She made me so furious I felt I could have killed her!” “I could have killed B. for saying so and so!” “I was so angry I could have murdered him!” And all those statements are literally true. Your mind at such moments is quite clear. You would like to kill so and so. But you do not do it. Your will has to assent to your desire. In young children, the brake is as yet acting imperfectly. I have known a child, annoyed by its kitten, say “Keep still or I’ll hit you on the head and kill you” and actually do so – to be stunned and horrified a moment later when it realizes that the kitten’s life will not return – because, you see, really the child loves that kitten dearly. So then, we are all potential murderers. And the art of X was this, not to suggest the desire, but to break down the normal decent resistance. It was an art perfected by long practice. X knew the exact word, the exact phrase, the intonation even to suggest and to bring cumulative pressure on a weak spot! It could be done. It was done without the victim ever suspecting. It was not hypnotism – hypnotism would not have been successful. It was something more insidious, more deadly. It was a marshalling of the forces of a human being to widen a breach instead of repairing it. It called on the best in a man and set it in alliance with the worst.
‘You should know, Hastings – for it happened to you . . .
‘So now, perhaps, you begin to see what some of my remarks, that annoyed and confused you, really meant. When I spoke of a crime to be committed, I was not always referring to the same crime. I told you that I was at Styles for a purpose. I was there, I said, because a crime was going to be committed. You were surprised at my certainty on that point. But I was able to be certain – for the crime, you see, was to be committed by myself . . .
‘Yes, my friend – it is odd – and laughable – and terrible! I, who do not approve of murder – I, who value human life – have ended my career by committing murder. Perhaps it is because I have been too self-righteous, too conscious of rectitude, that this terrible dilemma had to come to me. For you see, Hastings, there are two sides to it. It is my work in life to save the innocent – to prevent murder – and this – this is the only way I can do it! Make no mistake, X could not be touched by the law. He was safe. By no ingenuity that I could think of could he be defeated any other way.
‘And yet, my friend, I was reluctant. I saw what had to be done – but I could not bring myself to do it. I was like Hamlet – eternally putting off the evil day . . . And then the next attempt happened – the attempt on Mrs Luttrell.
‘I had been curious, Hastings, to see if your well-known flair for the obvious would work. It did. Your very first reaction was a mild suspicion of Norton. And you were quite right. Norton was the man. You had no reason for your belief – except the perfectly sound if slightly half-hearted suggestion that he was insignificant. There, I think, you came very close to the truth.
‘I have considered his life history with some care. He was the only son of a masterful and bossy woman. He seems to have had at no time any gift for asserting himself or for impressing his personality on other people. He has