Unformatted text preview: 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.
All absolutely OK and according to
Hercule Poirot sighed. He said:
"And yet, mon cher, 1 have a feeling that
this is the tenth Labour 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,
DC. Repeat adiib;^
"It is the peace here that I find so wonderful,"
said Miss Camaby, breathing heavily
"I told you so, Amy," said Emmeline
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
Miss Camaby 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
"You will find it a wonderful spiritual
experience," her friend promised her.
Miss Camaby 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 Camaby," 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.33
"Then they shouldn't be," said the
staunch daughter of the late Reverend
Leaning back in his chair, the Master
murmured in his rich vo...
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