Mark Easterbrook’s Narrative1
“Well, what was it like?” demanded Rhoda eagerly at the breakfast table.
“Oh, the usual stuff,” I said nonchalantly.
I was uneasily conscious of Despard’s eye on me. A perceptive2 man.
“Pentagrams drawn3 on the floor?”
“Lots of them.”
“Any white cocks?”
“Naturally. That was Bella’s part of the fun and games.”
“And trances and things?”
“As you say, trances and things.”
Rhoda looked disappointed.
“You seem to have found it rather dull,” she said in an aggrieved4 voice.
I said that these things were all much of a muchness. At any rate, I’d sat-isfied my curiosity.
Later, when Rhoda had departed to the kitchen, Despard said to me:
“Shook you up a bit, didn’t it?”
“Well—”
I was anxious to make light of the whole thing, but Despard was not aneasy man to deceive.
I said slowly, “It was—in a way—rather beastly.”
He nodded.
“One doesn’t really believe in it,” said Despard. “Not with one’s reason-ing mind—but these things have their effect. I’ve seen a good deal of it inEast Africa. The witch doctors there have a terrific hold on the people, andone has to admit that odd things happen which can’t be explained in anyrational manner.”
“Deaths?”
“Oh yes. If a man knows he’s been marked down to die, he dies.”
“The power of suggestion, I suppose.”
“Presumably.”
“But that doesn’t quite satisfy you?”
“No—not quite. There are cases difficult of explanation by any of ourglib Western scientific theories. The stuff doesn’t usually work onEuropeans—(though I have known cases). But if the belief is there in yourblood—you’ve had it!” He left it there.
I said thoughtfully: “I agree with you that one can’t be too didactic. Oddthings happen even in this country. I was at a hospital one day in London.
A girl had come in — neurotic5 subject, complaining of terrible pain inbones, arm, etc. Nothing to account for it. They suspected she was a victimof hysteria. Doctor told her cure could be effected by a red-hot rod beingdrawn down the arm. Would she agree to try it? She did.
“The girl turned her head away and screwed up her eyes. The doctordipped a glass rod in cold water and drew it down the inside of her arm.
The girl screamed with agony. He said, ‘You’ll be all right now.’ She said, ‘Iexpect so, but it was awful. It burnt.’ The queer thing to me was—not thatshe believed that she had been burnt, but that her arm actually was burnt.
The flesh was actually blistered6 everywhere the rod had touched it.”
“Was she cured?” Despard asked curiously7.
“Oh yes. The neuritis, or whatever it was, never reappeared. She had tobe treated for the burnt arm, though.”
“Extraordinary,” said Despard. “It goes to show, doesn’t it?”
“The doctor was startled himself.”
“I bet he was…” He looked at me curiously.
“Why were you really so keen to go to that séance last night?”
I shrugged8 my shoulders.
“Those three women intrigue9 me. I wanted to see what sort of show theywould put up.”
Despard said no more. I don’t think he believed me. As I have said, hewas a perceptive man.
Presently I went along to the vicarage. The door was open but thereseemed to be no one in the house.
I went to the little room where the telephone was, and rang up Ginger10.
It seemed an eternity11 before I heard her voice.
“Hallo!”
“Ginger!”
“Oh, it’s you. What happened?”
“You’re all right?”
“Of course I’m all right. Why shouldn’t I be?”
Waves of relief swept over me.
There was nothing wrong with Ginger; the familiar challenge of hermanner did me a world of good. How could I ever have believed that a lotof mumbo jumbo could hurt so normal a creature as Ginger?
“I just thought you might have had bad dreams or something,” I saidrather lamely12.
“Well, I didn’t. I expected to have, but all that happened was that I keptwaking up and wondering if I felt anything peculiar13 happening to me. Ireally felt almost indignant because nothing did happen to me—”
I laughed.
“But go on—tell me,” said Ginger. “What’s it all about?”
“Nothing much out of the ordinary. Sybil lay on a purple couch andwent into a trance.”
Ginger gave a spurt14 of laughter.
“Did she? How wonderful! Was it a velvet15 one and did she have nothingon?”
“Sybil is no Madame de Montespan. And it wasn’t a black mass. ActuallySybil wore quite a lot of clothes, peacock blue, and lots of embroideredsymbols.”
“Sounds most appropriate and Sybil-like. What did Bella do?”
“That really was rather beastly. She killed a white cock and then dippedyour glove in the blood.”
“Oo—nasty…What else?”
“Lots of things,” I said.
I thought that I was doing quite well. I went on:
“Thyrza gave me the whole bag of tricks. Summoned up a spirit —Macandal was, I think, the name. And there were coloured lights andchanting. The whole thing would have been quite impressive to somepeople—scared ’em out of their wits.”
“But it didn’t scare you?”
“Bella did scare me a bit,” I said. “She had a very nasty-looking knife,and I thought she might lose her head and add me to the cock as a secondvictim.”
Ginger persisted:
“Nothing else frightened you?”
“I’m not influenced by that sort of thing.”
“Then why did you sound so thankful to hear I was all right?”
“Well, because—” I stopped.
“All right,” said Ginger obligingly. “You needn’t answer that one. Andyou needn’t go out of your way to play down the whole thing. Somethingabout it impressed you.”
“Only, I think, because they—Thyrza, I mean—seemed so calmly confid-ent of the result.”
“Confident that what you’ve been telling me about could actually kill aperson?”
Ginger’s voice was incredulous.
“It’s daft,” I agreed.
“Wasn’t Bella confident, too?”
I considered. I said:
“I think Bella was just enjoying herself killing16 cocks and working herselfup into a kind of orgy of ill-wishing. To hear her moaning out “The Blood…the blood” was really something.”
“I wish I’d heard it,” said Ginger regretfully.
“I wish you had,” I said. “Frankly, the whole thing was quite a perform-ance.”
“You’re all right now, aren’t you?” said Ginger.
“What do you mean—all right?”
“You weren’t when you rang me up, but you are now.”
She was quite correct in her assumption. The sound of her cheerful nor-mal voice had done wonders for me. Secretly, though, I took off my hat toThyrza Grey. Bogus though the whole business might have been, it had in-fected my mind with doubt and apprehension17. But nothing mattered now.
Ginger was all right—she hadn’t had so much as a bad dream.
“And what do we do next?” demanded Ginger. “Have I got to stay put foranother week or so?”
“If I want to collect a hundred pounds from Mr. Bradley, yes.”
“You’ll do that if it’s the last thing you ever do… Are you staying on withRhoda?”
“For a bit. Then I’ll move on to Bournemouth. You’re to ring me everyday, mind, or I’ll ring you—that’s better. I’m ringing from the vicaragenow.”
“How’s Mrs. Dane Calthrop?”
“In great form. I told her all about it, by the way.”
“I thought you would. Well, good-bye for now. Life is going to be veryboring for the next week or two. I’ve brought some work with me to do—and a good many of the books that one always means to read but neverhas the time to.”
“What does your gallery think?”
“That I’m on a cruise.”
“Don’t you wish you were?”
“Not really,” said Ginger… Her voice was a little odd.
“No suspicious characters approached you?”
“Only what you might expect. The milkman, the man to read the gasmeter, a woman asking me what patent medicines and cosmetics18 I used,someone asking me to sign a petition to abolish nuclear bombs and a wo-man who wanted a subscription19 for the blind. Oh, and the various flatporters, of course. Very helpful. One of them mended a fuse for me.”
“Seems harmless enough,” I commented.
“What were you expecting?”
“I don’t really know.”
I had wished, I suppose, for something overt20 that I could tackle.
But the victims of the Pale Horse died of their own free will… No, theword free was not the one to use. Seeds of physical weakness in them de-veloped by a process that I did not understand.
Ginger rebuffed a weak suggestion of mine about a false gas meter man.
“He had genuine credentials,” she said. “I asked for them! He was onlythe man who gets up on a ladder inside the bathroom and reads off thefigures and writes them down. He’s far too grand to touch pipes or gasjets. And I can assure you he hasn’t arranged an escape of gas in my bed-room.”
No, the Pale Horse did not deal with accidental gas escapes—nothing soconcrete!
“Oh! I had one other visitor,” said Ginger. “Your friend, Dr. Corrigan.
He’s nice.”
“I suppose Lejeune sent him.”
“He seemed to think he ought to rally to a namesake. Up the Corrigans!”
I rang off, much relieved in mind.
I got back to find Rhoda busy on the lawn with one of her dogs. She wasanointing it with some unguent21.
“The vet’s just gone,” she said. “He says it’s ringworm. It’s frightfullycatching, I believe. I don’t want the children getting it—or the other dogs.”
“Or even adult human beings,” I suggested.
“Oh, it’s usually children who get it. Thank goodness they’re away atschool all day—keep quiet, Sheila. Don’t wriggle22.
“This stuff makes the hair fall out,” she went on. “It leaves bald spots fora bit but it grows again.”
I nodded, offered to help, was refused, for which I was thankful, andwandered off again.
The curse of the country, I have always thought, is that there are seldommore than three directions in which you can go for a walk. In Much Deep-ing, you could either take the Garsington road, or the road to Long Cotten-ham, or you could go up Shadhanger Lane to the main London–Bournemouth road two miles away.
By the following day at lunchtime, I had sampled both the Garsingtonand the Long Cottenham roads. Shadhanger Lane was the next prospect23.
I started off, and on my way was struck by an idea. The entrance to Pri-ors Court opened off Shadhanger Lane. Why should I not go and call onMr. Venables?
The more I considered the idea, the more I liked it. There would be noth-ing suspicious about my doing so. When I had been staying down here be-fore, Rhoda had taken me over there. It would be easy and natural to calland ask if I might be shown again some particular object that I had nothad time really to look at and enjoy on that occasion.
The recognition of Venables by this chemist—what was his name—Og-den?—Osborne?—was interesting, to say the least of it. Granted that, ac-cording to Lejeune, it would have been quite impossible for the man inquestion to have been Venables owing to the latter’s disability, yet it wasintriguing that a mistake should have been made about a man living inthis particular neighbourhood—and a man, one had to admit, who fittedin so well in character.
There was something mysterious about Venables. I had felt it from thefirst. He had, I was sure, first-class brains. And there was something abouthim—what word could I use?—the word vulpine came to me. Predatory—destructive. A man, perhaps, too clever to be a killer24 himself—but a manwho could organise25 killing very well if he wanted to.
As far as all that went, I could fit Venables into the part perfectly26. Themastermind behind the scenes. But this chemist, Osborne, had claimedthat he had seen Venables walking along a London street. Since that was im-possible, then the identification was worthless, and the fact that Venableslived in the vicinity of the Pale Horse meant nothing.
All the same, I thought, I would like to have another look at Mr. Ven-ables. So in due course I turned in at the gates of Priors Court and walkedup the quarter mile of winding27 drive.
The same manservant answered the door, and said that Mr. Venableswas at home. Excusing himself for leaving me in the hall, “Mr. Venables isnot always well enough to see visitors,” he went away, returning a fewmoments later with the information that Mr. Venables would be delightedto see me.
Venables gave me a most cordial welcome, wheeling his chair forwardand greeting me quite as an old friend.
“Very nice of you to look me up, my dear fellow. I heard you were downhere again, and was going to ring up our dear Rhoda this evening and sug-gest you all come over for lunch or dinner.”
I apologised for dropping in as I had, but said that it was a sudden im-pulse. I had gone for a walk, found that I was passing his gate, and decidedto gate-crash.
“As a matter of fact,” I said, “I’d love to have another look at your Mogulminiatures. I hadn’t nearly enough time to see them properly the otherday.”
“Of course you hadn’t. I’m glad you appreciate them. Such exquisite29 de-tail.”
Our talk was entirely30 technical after this. I must admit that I enjoyedenormously having a closer look at some of the really wonderful things hehad 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 Chinatea, and the delicate cups in which it was served. There was hot butteredanchovy toast, and a plum cake of the luscious31 old-fashioned kind thattook me back to teatime at my grandmother’s house when I was a littleboy.
“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 astaff 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 arrogance32 of the man showed here. I said dryly: “If one isfortunate 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 desiresare strong enough—that is what matters. So many people make moneywithout a notion of what they want it to do for them! As a result they getentangled in what one might call the moneymaking machine. They areslaves. They go to their offices early and leave late; they never stop to en-joy. And what do they get for it? Larger cars, bigger houses, more expens-ive 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 mostrich 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 con-template the beautiful things of this world, natural and artificial. Since togo and see them in their natural surroundings has of late years beendenied 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 plan-ning—but there is no need, really no need nowadays, to serve any sordidapprenticeship.”
“I don’t know if I quite understand you.”
“It’s a changing world, Easterbrook. It always has been—but now thechanges come more rapidly. The tempo33 has quickened—one must take ad-vantage of that.”
“A changing world,” I said thoughtfully.
“It opens up new vistas34.”
I said apologetically:
“I’m afraid, you know, that you’re talking to a man whose face is set inthe 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 immedi-ate moment! I take no account of anything else. The new techniques arehere to use. Already we have machines that can supply us with the answerto questions in seconds—compared to hours or days of human labour.”
“Computers? The electronic brain?”
“Things of that kind.”
“Will machines take the place of men eventually?”
“Of men, yes. Men who are only units of manpower—that is. But Man,no. There has to be Man the Controller, Man the Thinker, who works outthe questions to ask the machines.”
I shook my head doubtfully.
“Man, the Superman?” I put a faint inflection of ridicule35 into my voice.
“Why not, Easterbrook? Why not? Remember, we know—or are begin-ning to know—something about Man the human animal. The practice ofwhat is sometimes, incorrectly, called brainwashing has opened upenormously interesting possibilities in that direction. Not only the body,but the mind of man, responds to certain stimuli36.”
“A dangerous doctrine,” I said.
“Dangerous?”
“Dangerous to the doctored man.”
Venables shrugged his shoulders.
“All life is dangerous. We forget that, we who have been reared in one ofthe small pockets of civilisation37. For that is all that civilisation really is,Easterbrook. Small pockets of men here and there who have gathered to-gether for mutual38 protection and who thereby39 are able to outwit and con-trol Nature. They have beaten the jungle—but that victory is only tempor-ary. At any moment, the jungle will once more take command. Proud cit-ies that were, are now mere40 mounds41 of earth, overgrown with rank veget-ation, and the poor hovels of men who just manage to keep alive, no more.
Life is always dangerous—never forget that. In the end, perhaps, not onlygreat natural forces, but the work of our own hands may destroy it. Weare very near to that happening at this moment….”
“No one can deny that, certainly. But I’m interested in your theory ofpower—power over mind.”
“Oh that—” Venables looked suddenly embarrassed. “Probably I exag-gerated.”
I found his embarrassment42 and partial withdrawal43 of his former claiminteresting. Venables was a man who lived much alone. A man who isalone develops the need to talk — to someone — anyone. Venables hadtalked to me—and perhaps not wisely.
“Man the Superman,” I said. “You’ve rather sold me on some modernversion of the idea, you know.”
“There’s nothing new about it, certainly. The formula of the Supermangoes back a long way. Whole philosophies have been built on it.”
“Of course. But it seems to me that your Superman is—a Superman witha difference… A man who could wield44 power—and never be known towield power. A man who sits in his chair and pulls the strings45.”
I looked at him as I spoke46. He smiled.
“Are you casting me for the part, Easterbrook? I wish it were indeed so.
One needs something to compensate47 for—this!”
His hand struck down on the rug across his knees, and I heard the sud-den sharp bitterness in his voice.
“I won’t offer you my sympathy,” I said. “Sympathy is very little good toa man in your position. But let me say that if we are imagining such acharacter—a man who can turn unforeseen disaster into triumph—youwould be, in my opinion, exactly that type of man.”
He laughed easily.
“You’re flattering me.”
But he was pleased, I saw that.
“No,” I said. “I have met enough people in my life to recognise the un-usual, the extra-gifted man, when I meet him.”
I was afraid of going too far; but can one ever, really, go too far with flat-tery? A depressing thought! One must take it to heart and avoid the pitfalloneself.
“I wondered,” he said thoughtfully, “what actually makes you say that?
All this?” He swept a careless hand round the room.
“That is a proof,” I said, “that you are a rich man who knows how to buywisely, who has appreciation48 and taste. But I feel that there is more to itthan mere possession. You set out to acquire beautiful and interestingthings — and you have practically hinted that they were not acquiredthrough the medium of laborious49 toil50.”
“Quite right, Easterbrook, quite right. As I said, only the fool toils51. Onemust think, plan the campaign in every detail. The secret of all success issomething quite simple—but it has to be thought of! Something simple.
One thinks of it, and puts it into execution—and there you are!”
I stared at him. Something simple—something as simple as the removalof unwanted persons? Fulfilling a need. An action performed withoutdanger to anybody except the victim. Planned by Mr. Venables sitting inhis wheeled chair, with his great hooked nose like the beak52 of a bird ofprey, and his prominent Adam’s apple moving up and down. Executed by—whom? Thyrza Grey?
I watched him as I said:
“All this talk of remote control reminds me of something that odd MissGrey said.”
“Ah, our dear Thyrza!” His tone was smooth, indulgent (but had therebeen a faint flicker53 of the eyelids54?). “Such nonsense as those two dearladies talk! And they believe it, you know, they really believe it. Have youbeen yet—(I’m sure they’ll insist on your going)—to one of these ridiculousséances of theirs?”
I had a momentary55 hesitation56 whilst I decided28 rapidly what my attitudehere ought to be.
“Yes,” I said, “I— I did go to a séance.”
“And you found it great nonsense? Or were you impressed?”
I avoided his eyes and presented to my best ability a man who is ill atease.
“I—oh well—of course I didn’t really believe in any of it. They seem verysincere but—” I looked at my watch. “I’d no idea it was so late. I musthurry back. My cousin will wonder what I am doing.”
“You have been cheering up an invalid57 on a dull afternoon. My regardsto Rhoda. We must arrange another luncheon58 party soon. Tomorrow I amgoing to London. There is an interesting sale at Sotheby’s. MedievalFrench ivories. Exquisite! You will appreciate them, I am sure, if I succeedin acquiring them.”
We parted on this amicable59 note. Was there an amused and malicioustwinkle in his eye as he registered my awkwardness over the séance? Ithought so, but I could not be sure. I felt it quite likely that I was now ima-gining things.
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1
narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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perceptive
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| adj.知觉的，有洞察力的，感知的 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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aggrieved
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| adj.愤愤不平的，受委屈的；悲痛的；（在合法权利方面）受侵害的v.令委屈，令苦恼，侵害( aggrieve的过去式)；令委屈，令苦恼，侵害( aggrieve的过去式和过去分词) | |
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neurotic
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| adj.神经病的，神经过敏的；n.神经过敏者，神经病患者 | |
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blistered
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| adj.水疮状的，泡状的v.（使）起水泡( blister的过去式和过去分词 )；（使表皮等）涨破，爆裂 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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intrigue
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| vt.激起兴趣，迷住；vi.耍阴谋；n.阴谋，密谋 | |
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ginger
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| n.姜，精力，淡赤黄色；adj.淡赤黄色的；vt.使活泼，使有生气 | |
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eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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lamely
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| 一瘸一拐地，不完全地 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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spurt
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| v.喷出；突然进发；突然兴隆 | |
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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cosmetics
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| n.化妆品 | |
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subscription
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| n.预订，预订费，亲笔签名，调配法，下标（处方） | |
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overt
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| adj.公开的，明显的，公然的 | |
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unguent
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| n.（药）膏；润滑剂；滑油 | |
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wriggle
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| v./n.蠕动，扭动；蜿蜒 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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killer
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| n.杀人者，杀人犯，杀手，屠杀者 | |
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organise
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| vt.组织，安排，筹办 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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luscious
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| adj.美味的；芬芳的；肉感的，引与性欲的 | |
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arrogance
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| n.傲慢，自大 | |
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tempo
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| n.(音乐的)速度；节奏，行进速度 | |
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vistas
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| 长条形景色( vista的名词复数 )； 回顾； 展望； （未来可能发生的）一系列情景 | |
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ridicule
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| v.讥讽，挖苦；n.嘲弄 | |
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stimuli
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| n.刺激（物） | |
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civilisation
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| n.文明，文化，开化，教化 | |
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mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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thereby
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| adv.因此，从而 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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mounds
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| 土堆，土丘( mound的名词复数 )； 一大堆 | |
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embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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withdrawal
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| n.取回，提款；撤退，撤军；收回，撤销 | |
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wield
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| vt.行使，运用，支配；挥，使用(武器等) | |
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strings
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| n.弦 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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compensate
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| vt.补偿，赔偿；酬报 vi.弥补；补偿；抵消 | |
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appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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laborious
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| adj.吃力的，努力的，不流畅 | |
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toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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toils
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| 网 | |
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beak
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| n.鸟嘴，茶壶嘴，钩形鼻 | |
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flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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invalid
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| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
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luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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amicable
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| adj.和平的，友好的；友善的 | |
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