Agatha Christie - Double Sin and Other Stories

“Certainly there are,” he agreed warmly. “That is just what I am saying. Consider—this woman is a mother, a mother who has lost her only child. If you are not really ill, if it is only a whim on your part—you can deny a rich woman a caprice, can you deny a mother one last sight of her child?”

The medium flung her hands out despairingly in front of her.

“Oh, you torture me,” she murmured. “All the same you are right. I will do as you wish, but I know now what I am afraid of—it is the word ‘mother.’ ”

“Simone!”

“There are certain primitive elementary forces, Raoul. Most of them have been destroyed by civilization, but motherhood stands where it stood at the beginning. Animals—human beings, they are all the same. A mother’s love for her child is like nothing else in the world. It knows no law, no pity, it dares all things and crushes down remorselessly all that stands in its path.”

She stopped, panting a little, then turned to him with a quick, disarming smile.

“I am foolish today, Raoul. I know it.”

He took her hand in his.

“Lie down for a minute or two,” he urged. “Rest till she comes.”

“Very well.” She smiled at him and left the room.

Raoul remained for a minute or two lost in thought, then he strode to the door, opened it, and crossed the little hall. He went into a room the other side of it, a sitting room very much like the one he had left, but at one end was an alcove with a big armchair set in it. Heavy black velvet curtains were arranged so as to pull across the alcove. Elise was busy arranging the room. Close to the alcove she had set two chairs and a small round table. On the table was a tambourine, a horn, and some paper and pencils.

“The last time,” murmured Elise with grim satisfaction. “Ah, Monsieur, I wish it were over and done with.”

The sharp ting of an electric bell sounded.

“There she is, the great gendarme of a woman,” continued the old servant. “Why can’t she go and pray decently for her little one’s soul in a church, and burn a candle to Our Blessed Lady? Does not the good God know what is best for us?”

“Answer the bell, Elise,” said Raoul peremptorily.

She threw him a look, but obeyed. In a minute or two she returned ushering in the visitor.

“I will tell my mistress you are here, Madame.”

Raoul came forward to shake hands with Madame Exe. Simone’s words floated back to his memory.

“So big and so black.”

She was a big woman, and the heavy black of French mourning seemed almost exaggerated in her case. Her voice when she spoke was very deep.

“I fear I am a little late, Monsieur.”

“A few moments only,” said Raoul, smiling. “Madame Simone is lying down. I am sorry to say she is far from well, very nervous and overwrought.”

Her hand, which she was just withdrawing, closed on his suddenly like a vice.

“But she will sit?” she demanded sharply.

“Oh, yes, Madame.”

Madame Exe gave a sigh of relief, and sank into a chair, loosening one of the heavy black veils that floated round her.

“Ah, Monsieur!” she murmured, “you cannot imagine, you cannot conceive the wonder and the joy of these séances to me! My little one! My Amelie! To see her, to hear her, even—perhaps—yes, perhaps to be even able to—stretch out my hand and touch her.”

Raoul spoke quickly and peremptorily.

“Madame Exe—how can I explain?—on no account must you do anything except under my express directions, otherwise there is the gravest danger.”

“Danger to me?”

“No, Madame,” said Raoul, “to the medium. You must understand that the phenomena that occur are explained by Science in a certain way. I will put the matter very simply, using no technical terms. A spirit, to manifest itself, has to use the actual physical substance of the medium. You have seen the vapour of fluid issuing from the lips of the medium. This finally condenses and is built up into the physical semblance of the spirit’s dead body. But this ectoplasm we believe to be the actual substance of the medium. We hope to prove this some day by careful weighing and testing—but the great difficulty is the danger and pain which attends the medium on any handling of the phenomena. Were anyone to seize hold of the materialization roughly the death of the medium might result.”

Madame Exe had listened to him with close attention.

“That is very interesting, Monsieur. Tell me, shall not a time come when the materialization shall advance so far that it shall be capable of detachment from its parent, the medium?”

“That is a fantastic speculation, Madame.”

She persisted.

“But, on the facts, not impossible?”

“Quite impossible today.”

“But perhaps in the future?”

He was saved from answering, for at that moment Simone entered. She looked languid and pale, but had evidently regained entire control of herself. She came forward and shook hands with Madame Exe, though Raoul noticed the faint shiver that passed through her as she did so.

“I regret, Madame, to hear that you are indisposed,” said Madame Exe.

“It is nothing,” said Simone rather brusquely. “Shall we begin?”

She went to the alcove and sat down in the armchair. Suddenly Raoul in his turn felt a wave of fear pass over him.

“You are not strong enough,” he exclaimed. “We had better cancel the séance. Madame Exe will understand.”

“Monsieur!”

Madame Exe rose indignantly.

“Yes, yes, it is better not, I am sure of it.”

“Madame Simone promised me one last sitting.”

“That is so,” agreed Simone quietly, “and I am prepared to carry out my promise.”

“I hold you to it, Madame,” said the other woman.

“I do not break my word,” said Simone coldly. “Do not fear, Raoul,” she added gently, “after all, it is for the last time—the last time, thank God.”

At a sign from her Raoul drew the heavy black curtains across the alcove. He also pulled the curtains of the window so that the room was in semiobscurity. He indicated one of the chairs to Madame Exe and prepared himself to take the other. Madame Exe, however, hesitated.

“You will pardon me, Monsieur, but—you understand I believe absolutely in your integrity and in that of Madame Simone. All the same, so that my testimony may be the more valuable, I took the liberty of bringing this with me.”

From her handbag she drew a length of fine cord.

“Madame!” cried Raoul. “This is an insult!”

“A precaution.”

“I repeat it is an insult.”

“I don’t understand your objection, Monsieur,” said Madame Exe coldly. “If there is no trickery you have nothing to fear.”

Raoul laughed scornfully.

“I can assure you that I have nothing to fear, Madame. Bind me hand and foot if you will.”

His speech did not produce the effect he hoped, for Madame Exe merely murmured unemotionally:

“Thank you, Monsieur,” and advanced upon him with her roll of cord.

Suddenly Simone from behind the curtain gave a cry.

“No, no, Raoul, don’t let her do it.”

Madame Exe laughed derisively.

“Madame is afraid,” she observed sarcastically.

“Yes, I am afraid.”

“Remember what you are saying, Simone,” cried Raoul. “Madame Exe is apparently under the impression that we are charlatans.”

“I must make sure,” said Madame Exe grimly.

She went methodically about her task, binding Raoul securely to his chair.

“I must congratulate you on your knots, Madame,” he observed ironically when she had finished. “Are you satisfied now?”

Madame Exe did not reply. She walked round the room examining the panelling of the walls closely. Then she locked the door leading into the hall, and, removing the key, returned to her chair.