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, DC. Repeat ad lib'!'
III
'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 earths and the cliffs a deep, glowing red. The little estate now known as Green Hills 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 land – the land of glow and promise – where three-fold 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 Pasture!'
'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 pretences, 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 honoured 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 delicious 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 centre 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 dressed 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, O Shepherd.'
'Lift up your hearts with joy and thanksgiving. This is the Feast of Joy.'
'The Feast of Joy and we are joyful.'
'There shall be no more sorrow for you, no more pain. All is joy!'
'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 away – I 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 spirit!'
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 wonderful! She had the power of thought – of dreaming. There was nothing that she could not accomplish!
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, Hitler – poor, miserable, little fellows! They knew nothing of what she, Amy Carnaby, could do! 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 dreamt… 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 dreamt…
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 yet – 'Very remarkable,' said Miss Carnaby to herself.
