On the afternoon preceding the Festival, Miss Carnaby met Hercule Poirot in a small teashop in the sleepy little town of Newton Woodbury. Miss Carnaby was flushed and even more breathless than usual. She sat sipping tea and crumbling a rock bun between her fingers.
Poirot asked several questions to which she replied monosyllabically.
Then he said: 'How many will there be at the Festival?'
'I think a hundred and twenty. Emmeline is there, of course, and Mr Cole – really he has been very odd lately. He has visions. He described some of them to me – really most peculiar – I hope, I do hope, he is not insane. Then there will be quite a lot of new members – nearly twenty.'
'Good. You know what you have to do?'
There was a moment's pause before Miss Carnaby said in a rather odd voice: 'I know what you told me, M, Poirot…'
'Tres bien!'
Then Amy Carnaby said clearly and distinctly: 'But I am not going to do it!'
Hercule Poirot stared at her. Miss Carnaby rose to her feet. Her voice came fast and hysterical.
'You sent me here to spy on Dr Andersen. You suspected him of all sorts of things. But he is a wonderful man – a great Teacher. I believe in him heart and soul! And I am not going to do your spying work any more, M. Poirot! I am one of the Sheep of the Shepherd. The Master has a new message for the World and from now on, I belong to him body and soul. And I'll pay for my own tea, please.'
With which slight anticlimax Miss Carnaby planked down one and threepence and rushed out of the teashop.
'Nom d'un nom d'un nom,' said Hercule Poirot.
The waitress had to ask him twice before he realised that she was presenting the bill. He met the interested stare of a surly looking man at the next table, flushed, paid the check and got up and went out.
He was thinking furiously.
VII
Once again the Sheep were assembled in the Great Fold. The Ritual Questions and Answers had been chanted.
'Are you prepared for the Sacrament?'
'We are.'
'Bind your eyes and hold out your right arm.'
The Great Shepherd, magnificent in his green robe, moved along the waiting lines. Mr Cole, next to Miss Carnaby, gave a gulp of painful ecstasy as the needle pierced his flesh.
The Great Shepherd stood by Miss Carnaby. His hands touched her arm – 'No you don't. None of that…'
Words incredible – unprecedented. A scuffle, a roar of anger. Green veils were torn from eyes – to see an unbelievable sight – the Great Shepherd struggling in the grasp of the sheepskinned Mr Cole aided by another devotee.
In rapid professional tones, the erstwhile Mr Cole was saying: '- and I have here a warrant for your arrest. I must warn you that anything you say may be used in evidence at your trial.'
There were other figures now at the door of the Sheep Fold – blue-uniformed figures.
Someone cried: 'It's the police. They're taking the Master…'
Everyone was shocked – horrified. To them the Great Shepherd was a martyr, suffering, as all great teachers suffer, from the ignorance and persecution of the outside world.
Meanwhile Detective Inspector Cole was carefully packing up the hypodermic syringe that had fallen from the Great Shepherd's hand.
VIII
'My brave colleague!'
Poirot shook Miss Carnaby warmly by the hand and introduced her to Chief Inspector Japp.
'First-class work, Miss Carnaby,' said Chief Inspector Japp. 'We couldn't have done it without you and that's a fact.'
'Oh dear!' Miss Carnaby was fluttered. 'It's so kind of you to say so, And I'm afraid, you know, that I've really enjoyed it all. The excitement, you know, and playing my part. I got quite carried away sometimes. I really felt I was one of those foolish women.'
'That's where your success lay,' said Japp. 'You were the genuine article. Nothing less would have taken that gentleman in! He's a pretty astute scoundrel!'
Miss Carnaby turned to Poirot.
'That was a terrible moment in the teashop. I didn't know what to do. I just had to act on the spur of the moment.'
'You were magnificent,' said Poirot warmly. 'For a moment I thought that either you or I had taken leave of our senses. I thought for one little minute that you meant it.'
'It was such a shock,' said Miss Carnaby. 'Just when we had been talking confidentially. I saw in the glass that Lipscomb, who keeps the Lodge of the Sanctuary, was sitting at the table behind me. I don't know now if it was an accident or if he had actually followed me. As I say, I had to do the best I could on the spur of the minute and trust that you would understand.'
Poirot smiled. 'I did understand. There was only one person sitting near enough to overhear anything we said and as soon as I left the teashop I arranged to have him followed when he came out. When he went straight back to the Sanctuary I understood that I could rely on you and that you would not let me down – but I was afraid because it increased the danger for you.'
'Was – was there really danger? What was there in the syringe?'
Japp said: 'Will you explain, or shall I?'
Poirot said gravely: 'Mademoiselle, this Dr Andersen had perfected a scheme of exploitation and murder – scientific murder. Most of his life has been spent in bacteriological research. Under a different name he has a chemical laboratory in Sheffield. There he makes cultures of various bacilli. It was his practice, at the Festivals, to inject into his followers a small but sufficient dose of Cannabis Indica – which is also known by the names of Hashish or Bhang. This gives delusions of grandeur and pleasurable enjoyment. It bound his devotees to him. These were the Spiritual Joys that he promised them.'
'Most remarkable,' said Miss Carnaby. 'Really a most remarkable sensation.'
Hercule Poirot nodded. 'That was his general stock in trade – a dominating personality, the power of creating mass hysteria and the reactions produced by this drug. But he had a second aim in view.
'Lonely women, in their gratitude and fervour, made wills leaving their money to the Cult. One by one, these women died. They died in their own homes and apparently of natural causes. Without being too technical I will try to explain. It is possible to make intensified cultures of certain bacteria. The bacillus colicommunis, for instance, the cause of ulcerative colitis. Typhoid bacilli can be introduced into the system. So can the Pneumococcus. There is also what is termed Old Tuberculin which is harmless to a healthy person but which stimulates any old tubercular lesion into activity. You perceive the cleverness of the man? These deaths would occur in different parts of the country, with different doctors attending them and without any risk of arousing suspicion. He had also, I gather, cultivated a substance which had the power of delaying but intensifying the action of the chosen bacillus.'
'He's a devil, if there ever was one!' said Chief Inspector Japp.
Poirot went on: 'By my orders, you told him that you were a tuberculous subject. There was Old Tuberculin in the syringe when Cole arrested him. Since you were a healthy person it would not have harmed you, which is why
