The Labors of Hercules - Agatha Christie [82]
“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 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. There 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 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 well-to-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!”
II
“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. Seems 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 likely!”
“What about those names and addresses I gave you?”
“Nothing doing there. Miss Everitt died of ulcerative colitis. Doctor quite positive there was no hanky-panky. Mrs. Lloyd died of bronchopneumonia. Lady Western