Parker Pyne Investigates - Agatha Christie [31]
‘It is possible that I can,’ said Mr Pyne slowly. ‘It will be difficult, but I believe there is a chance of success. I think it’s possible I can give you back what you have lost–your interest in life.’
‘How?’ demanded Mrs Rymer curtly.
‘That,’ said Mr Parker Pyne, ‘is my professional secret. I never disclose my methods beforehand. The question is, will you take a chance? I do not guarantee success, but I do think there is a reasonable possibility of it.
‘I shall have to adopt unusual methods, and therefore it will be expensive. My charges will be one thousand pounds, payable in advance.’
‘You can open your mouth all right, can’t you?’ said Mrs Rymer appreciatively. ‘Well, I’ll risk it. I’m used to paying top price. Only, when I pay for a thing, I take good care that I get it.’
‘You shall get it,’ said Mr Parker Pyne. ‘Never fear.’
‘I’ll send you the cheque this evening,’ said Mrs Rymer, rising. ‘I’m sure I don’t know why I should trust you. Fools and their money are soon parted, they say. I dare say I’m a fool. You’ve got nerve, to advertise in all the papers that you can make people happy!’
‘Those advertisements cost me money,’ said Mr Pyne. ‘If I could not make my words good, that money would be wasted. I know what causes unhappiness, and consequently I have a clear idea of how to produce an opposite condition.’
Mrs Rymer shook her head doubtfully and departed, leaving a cloud of expensive mixed essences behind her.
The handsome Claude Luttrell strolled into the office. ‘Something in my line?’
Mr Pyne shook his head. ‘Nothing so simple,’ he said. ‘No, this is a difficult case. We must, I fear, take a few risks. We must attempt the unusual.’
‘Mrs Oliver?’
Mr Pyne smiled at the mention of the world-famous novelist. ‘Mrs Oliver,’ he said, ‘is really the most conventional of all of us. I have in mind a bold and audacious coup. By the way, you might ring up Dr Antrobus.’
‘Antrobus?’ ‘Yes. His services will be needed.’
II
A week later Mrs Rymer once more entered Mr Parker Pyne’s office. He rose to receive her.
‘This delay, I assure you, has been necessary,’ he said. ‘Many things had to be arranged, and I had to secure the services of an unusual man who had to come half-across Europe.’
‘Oh!’ She said it suspiciously. It was constantly present in her mind that she had paid out a cheque for a thousand pounds and the cheque had been cashed.
Mr Parker Pyne touched a buzzer. A young girl, dark, Oriental looking, but dressed in white nurse’s kit, answered it.
‘Is everything ready, Nurse de Sara?’
‘Yes. Doctor Constantine is waiting.’
‘What are you going to do?’ asked Mrs Rymer with a touch of uneasiness.
‘Introduce you to some Eastern magic, dear lady,’ said Mr Parker Pyne.
‘Mrs Rymer followed the nurse up to the next floor. Here she was ushered into a room that bore no relation to the rest of the house. Oriental embroideries covered the walls. There were divans with soft cushions and beautiful rugs on the floor. A man was bending over a coffee-pot. He straightened as they entered.
‘Doctor Constantine,’ said the nurse.
The doctor was dressed in European clothes, but his face was swarthy and his eyes were dark and oblique with a peculiarly piercing power in their glance.
‘So this is my patient?’ he said in a low, vibrant voice.
‘I’m not a patient,’ said Mrs Rymer.
‘Your body is not sick,’ said the doctor, ‘but your soul is weary. We of the East know how to cure that disease. Sit down and drink a cup of coffee.’
Mrs Rymer sat down and accepted a tiny cup of the fragrant brew. As she sipped it the doctor talked.
‘Here in the West, they treat only the body. A mistake. The body is only the instrument. A tune is played upon it. It may be a sad, weary tune. It may be a gay tune full of delight. The last is what we shall give you. You have money. You shall spend it and enjoy. Life shall be worth living again.