keep and feed ourselves in a frugal manner so that I am not absolutely
dependent on what I earn."
"I must consider," said Poirot, "where your talents may best be
employed. You have no idea yourself, I suppose?"
'.You know, you must really be a thought reader, M.
Poirot. I have been anxious lately about a friend of mine.
I was going to consult you. Of course you may say it is all an old
maid's fancy-just imagination. One is prone, perhaps, to exaggerate,
and to see design where there may be.
only coincidence."
"I do not think that you would exaggerate, Miss Carnaby. Tell me what
is on your mind."
"Well, I have a friend, a very dear friend, though I have not seen very
much of her of late years. Her name is Emmeline Clegg. She married a
man in the north of England and he died a few years ago, leaving her
very comfortably off. She was unhappy and lonely after his death and I
am afraid she is in some ways a rather foolish and perhaps credulous
woman. Religion, M. Poirot, can be a great help and sustenance-but by
that I mean orthodox religion."
"You refer to the Greek church?" asked Poirot.
Miss Carnaby looked shocked.
"Oh, no, indeed. Church of England. And though I do not approve of
Roman Catholics, they are at least recog nized. And the Wesleyans and
Congregationalists-they are all well-known, respectable bodies. What I
am talking about are these odd sects. They just spring up. They have a
kind of emotional appeal but sometimes I have very grave doubts as to
whether there is any true religious feeling behind them at all."
"You think your friend is being victimized by a sect of this kind?"
"I do. Oh, I certainly dol The Flock of the Shepherd, they call
themselves. Their headquarters is in Devonshire -a very lovely estate
by the sea. The adherents go there for what they term a retreat. That
is a period of a fortnightwith religious services and rituals. And
there are three big festivals in the year: the Coming of the Pasture,
the Full Pasture, and the Reaping of the Pasture."
"Which last is stupid," said Poirot. "Because one does not reap
pasture."
"The whole thing is stupid," said Miss Carnaby with warmth. "The whole
sect centers round the head of the movement, the Great Shepherd, he is
called. A Dr. Andersen. A very handsome-looking man, I believe, with
a presence."
"Which is attractive to the women, yes?"
"I am afraid so," Miss Carnaby sighed. "My father was a very handsome
man. Sometimes it was most awkward in the parish. The rivalry in
embroidering vestments-and the division of church work-"
She shook her head reminiscently.
"Are the members of the Great Flock mostly women?"
"At least three quarters of them, I gather. What men
there are, are mostly crankst It is upon the women that the success of
the movement depends and-and on the funds they supply."
"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 very 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. Tfiere 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 else 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
wellto-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, M. Poirotl"
"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.
Seenis 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 likelyl"
"What about those names and a
ddresses I gave you?"
"Nothing doing there. Miss Everitt died of ulcerative colitis. Doctor
quite positive there was no hanky-panky.
Mrs. Lloyd died of broncho-pneumonia. Lady Western died of
tuberculosis. Had suffered from it many years ago -before she even met
this bunch. Miss Lee died of typhoid -attributed to some salad she ate
somewhere in the north of England. Three of them got ill and died in
their own homes, and Mrs. Lloyd died in a hotel in the south of France.
As far as those deaths go, there's nothing to connect them with the
Great Flock or with Andersen's place down in Devonshire. Must be pure
coincidence. Allabsolutely okay and according to Cocker."
Hercule Poirot sighed. He said, "And yet, mon cher, I have a feeling
that this is the tenth Labor of Hercules, and that this Dr. Andersen is
the Monster Geryon whom it is my mission to destroy."
japp looked at him anxiously.
"Look here, Poirot, you haven't been reading any queer literature
yourself lately, have you?"
Poirot said with dignity, "My remarks are, as always, apt, sound, and to
the point."
"You might start a new religion yourself," said japp, with the creed:
"There is no one so clever as Hercule Poirot, Amen, D.C. Repeat ad
lib'l"
,.It is the peace here that I find so wonderful," said Miss Carnaby,
breathing heavily and ecstatically.
"I told you so, Amy," said Emmeline Clegg.
The two friends were sitting on the slope of a hillside overlooking a
deep and lovely blue sea. The grass was vivid green, the earth and the
cliffs a deep, glowing red. The little estate now known as Green Wills
Sanctuary was a promontory comprising about six acres. Only a narrow
neck of land joined it to the mainland so that it was almost an island.
Mrs. Clegg murmured sentimentally, "The red landthe land of glow and
promise-where threefold destiny is to be accomplished."
Miss Carnaby sighed deeply and said, "I thought the Master put it all so
beautifully at the service last night."
."Wait," said her friend, "for the festival tonight. The Full Growth of
the Pasturer"
"I'm looking forward to it," said Miss Carnaby.
"You will find it a wonderful spiritual experience," her friend promised
her.
Miss Carnaby had arrived at Green Hills Sanctuary a week previously. Her
attitude on arrival had been: Now what's all this nonsense? Really,
Emmie, a sensible woman like you-etc., etc.
At a preliminary interview with Dr. Andersen, she had conscientiously
made her position quite clear.
"I don't want to feel that I am here under false pretenses, Dr.
Andersen. My father was a clergyman of the Church of England and I have
never wavered in my faith.
I don't hold with heathen doctrines."
The big golden-haired man had smiled at her-a very sweet and
understanding smile. He had looked indulgently at the plump, rather
belligerent figure sitting so squarely in her chair.
"Dear Miss Carnaby," he said. "You are Mrs. Clegg's friend, and as
such welcome. And, believe me, our doctrines are not heathen. Here all
religions are welcomed, and all honored equally."
"Then they shouldn't be," said the staunch daughter of the late Reverend
Thomas Carnaby.
Leaning back in his chair, the Master murmured in his rich voice, "In my
Father's House are many mansions....
Remember that, Miss Carnaby."
As they left the presence, Miss Carnaby murmured to her friend, "He
really is a very handsome man."
"Yes," said Emmeline Clegg. "And so wonderfully spiritual."
Miss Carnaby agreed. It was true-she had felt it-an aura of
unworldliness-of spirituality.
She took a grip upon herself. She was not here to fall a prey to the
fascination, spiritual or otherwise, of the Great Shepherd. She
conjured up a vision of Hercule Poirot. He seemed very far away, and
curiously mundane.
Amy, said Miss Carnaby to herself, take a grip upon yourself. Remember
what you are here for.
But as the days went on, she found herself surrendering only too easily
to the spell of Green Hills. The peace, the simplicity, the delicioifs
though simple food, the beauty of the services with their chants of Love
and Worship, the simple, moving words of the Master, appealing to all
that was best and highest in humanity-here all the strife and ugliness
of the world was shut out. Here was only Peace and Love.
And tonight was the great summer Festival, the Festival of the Full
Pasture. And at it, she, Amy Carnaby, was to become initiated-to become
one of the Flock.
The Festival took place in the white glittering concrete building,
called by the Initiates the Sacred Fold. Here the devotees assembled
just before the setting of the sun. They wore sheepskin cloaks and had
sandals on their feet. Their arms were bare. In the center of the Fold
on a raised platform stood Dr. Andersen. The big man, golden-haired
and blue-eyed, with his fair beard and his handsome profile, had never
seemed more compelling. He was dresse2l in a green robe and carried a
shepherd's crook of gold.
He raised this aloft and a deathly silence fell on the assembly.
"Where are my sheep?"
The answer came from the crowd: "We are here, Shepherd."
"Lift up your hearts with joy and thanksgiving. This is the Feast of
joy."
"The Feasi o? Joy and we are joyful."
"There shall be no more sorrow for you, no more pain.
All is joyl"
"All is joy.
"How many heads has the Shepherd?"
"Three heads; a head of gold, a head of silver, a head of sounding
brass."
:'How many bodies have the Sheep?"
'Three bodies; a body of flesh, a body of corruption, and a body of
light."
"How shall you be sealed in the Flock?"
"By the Sacrament of Blood."
,:Are you prepared for that Sacrament?"
We are."
"Bind your eyes and hold forth your right arm."
The crowd obediently bound their eyes with the green scarves provided
for the purpose. Miss Carnaby, like the rest, held her arm out in front
of her.
The Great Shepherd moved along the lines of his Flock.
There were little cries, moans of either pain or ecstasy.
Miss Carnaby, to herself, said fiercely, Most blasphemous, the whole
thing! This kind of religious hysteria is to be deplored. I shall
remain absolutely calm and observe the reactions of other people. I
will not be carried awayI will not.
The Great Shepherd had come to her. She felt her arm taken, held, there
was a sharp stinging pain like the prick of a needle. The Shepherd's
voice murmured: "The Sacrament of Blood that brings joy. . .
He passed on.
Presently there came a command.
"Unveil and enjoy the pleasures of the spiritl"
The sun was just sinking. Miss Carnaby looked round her. At one with
the others, she moved slowly out of the Fold. She felt suddenly
uplifted, happy. She sank
down on .a soft grassy bank. Why had she
ever thought she was a lonely, unwanted middle-aged woman? Life was
wonderful-she herself was wonderfull She had the power of thought-of
dreaming. There was nothing that she could not accomplishl
A great rush of exhilaration surged through her. She observed her
fellow devotees round her-they seemed suddenly to have grown to an
immense stature.
Like trees walking, said Miss Carnaby to herself reverently.
She lifted her hand. It was a purposeful gesture-with it she could
command the earth. Caesar, Napoleon, Hitlerpoor miserable little
fellowsl They knew nothing of what she, Amy Carnaby, could dol Tomorrow
she would arrange for World Peace, for International Brotherhood.
There should be no more wars-no more poverty-no more disease. She, Amy
Carnaby, would design a New World.
But there need be no hurry. Time was infinite.... Minute succeeded
minute, hour succeeded hour! Miss Carnaby's limbs felt heavy, but her
mind was delightfully free. It could roam at will over the whole
universe. She slept-but even as she slept she dreamed. . . . Great
spaces . vast buildings ... a new and wonderful world....
Gradually the world shrank, Miss Carnaby yawned. She moved her stiff
limbs. What had happened since yesterday?
Last night she had dreamed There was a moon. By it, Miss Carnaby could
just distinguish the figures on her watch. To her stupefaction the
hands pointed to a quarter to ten. The sun, as she knew, had set at
eight-ten. Only an hour and thirty-five minutes ago? Impossible. And
yetVery remarkable, said Miss Carnaby to herself.
Hercule Poirot said, "You must obey my instructions very carefully. You
understand?"
"Oh, yes, M. Poirot. You may rely on me."
::You have spoken of your intention to benefit the cult?"
Yes, M. Poirot. I spoke to the Master-excuse n)e-to Dr. Andersen
myself. I told him very emotionally what a wonderful revelation the
whole thing had been-how I had come to scoff and remained to believe.
I-really it seemed quite natural to say all these things. Dr. Andersen,
you know, has a lot of magnetic charm."
"So I perceive," said Hercule Poirot dryly.
"His manner was most convincing. One really feels he doesn't care about
money at all. 'Give what you can,' he
said, smiling in that wonderful way of his; 'if you can give" nothing,
it does not matter. You are one of the Flock just the same." 'Oh, Dr.
Andersen,' I said, 'I am not so badly off as that. I have just
inherited a considerable amount of money from a distant relative and
though I cannot actually touch any of the money until the legal
formalities are all complied with, there is one thing I want to do at
once." And then I explained that I was making a will and that I wanted
to leave all I had to the Brothelhood. I explained that I had no near
relatives."
"And he graciously accepted the bequest?"
"He was very detached about it. Said it would be many long years before
I passed over, that he could tell I was cut out for a long life of joy
and spiritual fulfillment. He really speaks most movingly."
"So it would seem."
Poirot's tone was dry. He went on: "You mentioned your health?"
"Yes, M. Poirot. I told him that I had had lung trouble, and that it
had recurred more than once, but that a final treatment in a sanitarium
some years ago had, I hoped, quite cured me."
"Excellentl"
"Though why it is necessary for me to say that I am consumptive when my
Mrs McGinty's Dead / the Labours of Hercules (Agatha Christie Collected Works) Page 21
