The Hound of Death - Agatha Christie [4]
‘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 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?’
‘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 was 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 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 it–look 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