Destination Unknown - Agatha Christie [75]
Chapter 20
The cars swept up the mountain road and stopped in front of the great gate set in the rock. There were four cars. In the first car was a French Minister and the American Ambassador, in the second car was the British Consul, a Member of Parliament and the Chief of Police. In the third car were two members of a former Royal Commission and two distinguished journalists. The complement of these three cars was made up with the necessary satellites. The fourth car contained certain people not known to the general public, but sufficiently distinguished in their own sphere. They included Captain Leblanc and Mr Jessop. The chauffeurs, immaculately garbed, were now opening car doors and bowing as they assisted the distinguished visitors to alight.
‘One hopes,’ murmured the Minister, apprehensively, that there will be no possibility of a contact of any kind.’
One of the satellites immediately made soothing noises.
‘Du tout, M. le Ministre. Every suitable precaution is taken. One inspects only from a distance.’
The Minister, who was elderly and apprehensive, looked relieved. The Ambassador said something about the better understanding and treatment of these diseases nowadays.
The great gates were flung open. On the threshold stood a small party bowing to welcome them. The Director, dark, thick-set, the Deputy Director, big and fair, two distinguished doctors and a distinguished research chemist. The greetings were French, florid and prolonged.
‘And ce cher Aristides,’ demanded the Minister. ‘I sincerely hope ill-health has not prevented him from fulfilling his promise to meet us here.’
‘Mr Aristides flew from Spain yesterday,’ said the Deputy Director. ‘He awaits you within. Permit me, Your Excellency–M. le Ministre, to lead the way.’
The party followed him. M. le Ministre, who was slightly apprehensive, glanced through the heavy railings to his right. The lepers were drawn up to attention in a serried row as far as possible from the grating. The Minister looked relieved. His feelings about leprosy were still medieval.
In the well-furnished modern lounge Mr Aristides was awaiting his guests. There were bows, compliments, introductions. Apéritifs were served by the dark-faced servants dressed in their white robes and turbans.
‘It’s a wonderful place you have here, sir,’ said one of the younger journalists to Aristides.
The latter made one of his oriental gestures.
‘I am proud of this place,’ he said. ‘It is, as you might say, my swan song. My final gift to humanity. No expense has been spared.’
‘I’ll say that’s so,’ said one of the doctors on the staff, heartily. ‘This place is a professional man’s dream. We do pretty well in the States, but what I’ve seen since I came here…and we’re getting results! Yes, sir, we certainly are getting results.’
His enthusiasm was of a contagious kind.
‘We must make all acknowledgements to private enterprise,’ said the Ambassador, bowing politely to Mr Aristides.
Mr Aristides spoke with humility.
‘God has been very good to me,’ he said.
Sitting hunched up in his chair he looked like a small yellow toad. The Member of Parliament murmured to the member of the Royal Commission, who was very old and deaf, that he presented a very interesting paradox.
‘That old rascal has probably ruined millions of people,’ he murmured, ‘and having made so much money he doesn’t know what to do with it, he pays it back with the other hand.’ The elderly judge to whom he spoke murmured:
‘One wonders to what extent results justify increased expenditure. Most of the great discoveries that have benefited the human race have been discovered with quite simple equipment.’
‘And now,’ said Aristides, when the civilities were accomplished and the apéritifs drunk, ‘you will