The Pale Horse - Agatha Christie [65]
The same manservant answered the door, and said that Mr. Venables was at home. Excusing himself for leaving me in the hall, “Mr. Venables is not always well enough to see visitors,” he went away, returning a few moments later with the information that Mr. Venables would be delighted to see me.
Venables gave me a most cordial welcome, wheeling his chair forward and greeting me quite as an old friend.
“Very nice of you to look me up, my dear fellow. I heard you were down here again, and was going to ring up our dear Rhoda this evening and suggest you all come over for lunch or dinner.”
I apologised for dropping in as I had, but said that it was a sudden impulse. I had gone for a walk, found that I was passing his gate, and decided to gate-crash.
“As a matter of fact,” I said, “I’d love to have another look at your Mogul miniatures. I hadn’t nearly enough time to see them properly the other day.”
“Of course you hadn’t. I’m glad you appreciate them. Such exquisite detail.”
Our talk was entirely technical after this. I must admit that I enjoyed enormously having a closer look at some of the really wonderful things he had in his possession.
Tea was brought in and he insisted that I partake of it.
Tea is not one of my favourite meals but I appreciated the smoky China tea, and the delicate cups in which it was served. There was hot buttered anchovy toast, and a plum cake of the luscious old-fashioned kind that took me back to teatime at my grandmother’s house when I was a little boy.
“Homemade,” I said approvingly.
“Naturally! A bought cake never comes into this house.”
“You have a wonderful cook, I know. Don’t you find it difficult to keep a staff in the country, as far away from things as you are here?”
Venables shrugged his shoulders. “I must have the best. I insist upon it. Naturally—one has to pay! I pay.”
All the natural arrogance of the man showed here. I said dryly: “If one is fortunate enough to be able to do that, it certainly solves many problems.”
“It all depends, you know, on what one wants out of life. If one’s desires are strong enough—that is what matters. So many people make money without a notion of what they want it to do for them! As a result they get entangled in what one might call the moneymaking machine. They are slaves. They go to their offices early and leave late; they never stop to enjoy. And what do they get for it? Larger cars, bigger houses, more expensive mistresses or wives—and, let me say, bigger headaches.”
He leaned forward.
“Just the getting of money—that is really the be all and end all for most rich men. Plough it back into bigger enterprises, make more money still. But why? Do they ever stop to ask themselves why? They don’t know.”
“And you?” I asked.
“I—” he smiled. “I knew what I wanted. Infinite leisure in which to contemplate the beautiful things of this world, natural and artificial. Since to go and see them in their natural surroundings has of late years been denied me, I have them brought from all over the world to me.”
“But money still has to be got before that can happen.”
“Yes, one must plan one’s coups—and that involves quite a lot of planning—but there is no need, really no need nowadays, to serve any sordid apprenticeship.”
“I don’t know if I quite understand you.”
“It’s a changing world, Easterbrook. It always has been—but now the changes come more rapidly. The tempo has quickened—one must take advantage of that.”
“A changing world,” I said thoughtfully.
“It opens up new vistas.”
I said apologetically:
“I’m afraid, you know, that you’re talking to a man whose face is set in the opposite direction—towards the past—not towards the future.”
Venables shrugged his shoulders.
“The future? Who can foresee that? I speak of today—now—the immediate moment! I take no account of anything else. The new techniques are here to use. Already we have machines that can supply us with the answer to questions in seconds—compared to hours or days of human labour.”
“Computers? The electronic