Dog of Death By Agatha Christie

Chapter #2 Signs of Danger

...Danger Sign...

“WAH, thrilling once,” said Mrs. Eversleigh is beautiful. While opening her two beautiful but somewhat empty eyes it was wide.

“People often say, women have a sixth sense; do you think, really, Sir Alington?”

The famous soul expert smiled cynically. He really doesn't like types like Mrs. This Eversleigh, beautiful but stupid. Alington West is an expert in the field of mental illness, and he is well aware of his position and importance. He's a rather arrogant guy.

“Many people like to talk a no-no, Mrs. Eversleighs. What does it mean sixth sense?”

“You, scientists, are always cynical. Though sometimes people can really have a sharp feeling about something, just know, feel, I mean very strange is really strange. Claire understands what I mean, don't you, Claire?” He asked his hostess with slightly pouted lips and tilted shoulders.

Claire Trent did not immediately answer. The small dinner was attended only by her and her husband, Violet Eversteigh, Sir Alington West, and her nephew, Dermot West, who was also an old friend of Jack Trent. Jack Trent himself was a rather chubby man with a red face, a friendly smile, and a pleasant laugh. He answered Mrs. Eversleighs.

“Omong empty, Violet. Your best friend died in a train accident. But then you remembered your dream about a black cat on Tuesday, which was great, and then you thought it was a sign something was going to happen!”

“Oh, no, Jack, you mix omens with intuition. Come on, Sir Alington, of course you admit that the name of the sign does exist?”

“Perhaps yes, to some extent,” Sir Alington acknowledges with caution. “But many also happen just because of mere coincidence, but then people tend to exaggerate the story, it must also be taken into account.”

“I don't think there's such a thing as that sign,” Claire said.

Trent with a bit of a hurry. “Or intuition, sixth sense, or whatever we're talking about so eloquently. We live life like a train traveling in the dark, to an unknown destination.”

“That's not the right equation, Mrs. Trent,” said Dermot West, who raised his head for the first time and took part in the talks.

There were strange twinkles in his clear gray eyes, which looked strikingly somewhat awkward on his dark browned face. “You forgot the signs.”

“Tags?”

“ Yes, green if safe and red if any danger!”

“Red if any danger is thrilling!” violet Eversleigh said with a sigh.

Dermot looked away from her rather impatiently. “It's just a parable of course. There is danger ahead! Red marks! Careful!” Trent looked at him curiously.

“You speak as if from your own experience, Dermot, my friend.”

“Indeed happened to me, I mean.”

“Try tell.”

“I can give you one example. In Mesopotamia, right after the armistice, I went into my tent one night, in a fit of misgivings. There's danger! Be carefull! I don't understand at all, what's wrong. I checked the camp, busy here and there, just in case there was an attack from the Arabs. Then I went back to my tent. As soon as I went inside, the feeling came up again, stronger instead. There's danger! Finally I picked up the blanket and slept outside.”

“Then?”

“The next morning, when I got into the tent, the first thing I saw was a knife about half a meter long stuck in my bed, exactly where I was supposed to be lying. I knew immediately the culprit, one of the Arab maids. His son was shot for being a spy. What do you think of Uncle Alington for that incident? I think it's an example of a danger sign that appears before an event occurs.”

Sir Alington smiled without expressing an opinion.

“Very interesting story, Dermot.”

“But Uncle did not agree that it was indeed a danger signal?”

“Yes, yes, I have no doubt that you got a sign, as you said it. But what I'm concerned about is the origin of that sign. According to you, the sign is the mastermind from the outside, emerging from a source outside of you. But in this age we find that almost everything comes from within ourselves, from our subconscious.”

“Nature Subconscious,” exclaim Jack Trent.

“Now anything is associated with the subconscious.” Sir Alington continued, regardless of the comments.

“In my opinion. Somehow this Arab has made himself known. Your consciousness does not notice or remember, but it is not the case with your subconscious. The subconscious never forgets. We also believe that the subconscious can think and draw conclusions separately from the higher consciousness. Then your subconscious is convinced that there was an attempt to kill you, and he managed to instill his fear in your conscious.”

“I admit, that sounds very convincing,” Dermot said with a smile.

“But not too thrilling,” Mrs. Eversleigh chimed with pouting lips.

“Maybe also your subconscious is aware of that person's hatred towards you. We used to know what is called telepathy, and it really exists, although the conditions governing it are very little understood.”

“Have there ever been any other events that could serve as an example?” ask Claire to Dermot.

“Oh, yes, but not very impressive and I think it could be explained as a mere coincidence. I once turned down an invitation to a country house just because I felt bad. The house was burning. By the way, Uncle Alington where is the role of the subconscious in this case?”

“I don't think there is,” said Alington smiling.

“But there must be an equally good explanation. Come onl. No need to be too careful of your own nephew.”

“Well, well, nephew, in my opinion, you refused

the invitation was just because you weren't too interested in leaving, and after the fire, you assumed you had been warned before, and now you're full rehearsal that that's what happened.”

“Pad,” Dermot laugh. “Uncle always wins “

“Nothing, Mr. West,” exclaims Violet Eversleigh.

“I fully believe in your danger sign theory. What was the event in Mesopotamia the last time you got such a feeling?”

“Ya... until..”.

“Maaf”

“Nothing.”

Dermot sat still. Last time he almost said, “Ya.. until tonight.” Those words jumped just like that in his mouth, voicing a thought that had not previously appeared consciously, but he immediately realized that it was true. The danger sign appeared from the darkness. There's danger.

There was danger before his eyes.

Butwhy? What danger could there be here? At his friends' house? At least. yes, there is one danger. It

looking at Claire Trent, her white skin, her slender body, her finely bowed head with her golden hair.

But the danger has been around for some time and it seems unlikely to develop into big. Because Jack Trent is his best friend, even more so. Jack has saved his life in Flanders and has recommended obtaining a VC for his heroism. Jack is a good man, one of the best. It's a pity that he fell in love with Jack's wife. But one day he will be able to overcome his feelings. Things like this won't hurt forever.

This feeling will disappear later too yes, gone. Claire herself never expected it and even if she expected it, there was no way she would ignore it. Claire is like a statue, a beautiful statue, made and gold, ivory, and pale pink coral stone.

Claire.. mentioned her name in her heart has made Dermot hurt. He was in love once... But not like this!” said something in his heart.

“Not like this.” Well, that's.

There is no danger, only heartbreak, but not danger. Not a danger as the Red signal. That's for something else.

Dermot glanced around the table, and for the first time he realized that the guests present this time were rather unusual. His uncle, for example, rarely wanted to attend a small, informal dinner like this. Trent's husbands are old friends, but only tonight... Dermot realized that he did not 'know' them at all.

But there was one reason for the event this time.

A well-known spirit caller will come to perform a seance after dinner. Sir Alington said he was somewhat interested in spiritualism.

Yeah, obviously that's a reason.

Reason. Dermot inevitably paid attention to that word. Is this seance just an excuse so that his uncle's presence at this dinner feels natural? If so, what exactly was the purpose of his uncle being here? Various details rush into Dermot's mind, small things that were previously unnoticed, or, as his uncle says, go unnoticed by the conscious mind.

Sir Alington had been staring at Claire with a very strange look, more than once. It was like he was watching the woman.

Claire looked agitatedly getting her sharp gaze. Sometimes both hands move nervously. He was nervous, very

very nervous, and scared. Could it?

Why is he scared?

Dermot flinched and returned to the ongoing conversation around the table. Mrs. Eversleigh has managed to get Sir Alington to talk about his most controlled field.

“Mrs. Good Eversleigh, what exactly is madness? I can assure you that the more studied we are, the harder it is to say the word. All of us, to some degree, like to lie to ourselves, and if we go too far to practice it, for example we become convinced that we are the Emperor of Russia, then we will be put into a mental hospital. But the road that must be taken before reaching that point, is very long. To what extent do we go down that path before we draw a line and say, 'On this side is sanity, and on that side is madness'? That can't be done. If the person suffering from delusions hides his condition, it is likely that we will not be able to distinguish him from a normal person. Outstanding sanity in a madman is a very interesting subject.”

“I heard they were very ingenious,” said Mrs Eversleigh.

“I mean, those crazy people.”

“Indeed. And often suppressing certain delusions can be very dangerous. Everything that is repressed can be dangerous, as taught in psychoanalysis. People who are eccentric, who are harmless, and do not need to hide them, rarely cross the line of sanity. But boy..”

Sir Alington was silent for a moment,

“Or women who seem completely normal, could be a source of great danger to

community.”

Slowly his gaze moved towards Claire, then switched again. He squinted his anguish once again. A great fear shook Dermot. Is that what his uncle meant? Is that what he was about to say? Impossible, but...

“And all because of holding back that tendency,” sigh Mrs. Eversleighs.

“I understand, people must be very careful and must always express their personality. Frightening, the consequences caused by self-restraint were.”

“Mrs. Eversleigh,” Sir Arlington said solemnly.

“You misunderstood my speech. The cause of the tendency is in the brain alone, sometimes arising from external causes, such as a bumped head; sometimes also because of congenital.”

“Congenital disease is indeed very sad,” sigh Lady Eversleigh slowly.

“TBE and so on.”

“TBE is not a hereditary disease,” Sir Alington said in a flat tone.

“Masa? I think hereditary diseases. But madness can

lowered! How horrifying. What else?”

“Encok “ Sir Alington said with a smile.

“And this color blindness is quite interesting. Color blindness is passed down directly to men, but only in the form of congenital in women. So, it is not strange that many men are blind, but a woman who is blind, means her mother has the innate, and her father also experienced it rather unusual. That's called heredity which is limited to gender.”

“Interesting once. But madness isn't like that isn't it?”

“Crazy can be passed down in men and women of the same level,” Sir Alington said solemnly.

Claire stood up abruptly, pushing her chair so suddenly, that it toppled over. He looked very pale, and the nervous movements of his fingers were very noticeable.

“You... You won't be long, will you?” her door.

“After Mrs. Thompson came.”

“Beauty more wine, and I will join you.” said Sir Alington.

“Didn't I come here to see Mrs's appearance. This amazing thompson? Ha ha! I don't need to be pushed.” He bows the body.

Claire smiled faintly, then walked out of the room, her hand touching Mrs' shoulder. Eversleighs.

“It feels like I've been talking too much about work,” Sir Alington said as he sat back down.

“I'm sorry pal.”

“Nothing.” said Trent indifferently

He looked tense and anxious. For the first time Dermot felt alien to his friend. Between these two people there is a secret that will not even be discussed between two old friends but the whole affair is fantastic and extraordinary.

What can be used as a foothold? Nothing, other than a few gazes and nervousness of a woman. They drank wine for a long time, but did not take much time, then moved to the sitting room right at the arrival of Mrs. Thompson announced.

Medium was a middle-aged fat lady, wearing a dark red velvet dress, with a rather tacky loud voice

“I hope I'm not late, Mrs. Trent,” said cheerfully.

“You said nine o'clock, didn't you?”

“You're very punctual, Mrs. Thompson,” Claire said with her sweet, rather hoarse voice.

“This is our guests tonight.” No further introductions, as it seems, have become a habit.

The medium swept a sharp and cunning look at all of them.

“Hopefully the result is good,” he said firmly.

“I am very unhappy if I cannot give satisfaction to my clients. I became angry. But I think Shiromako (my controller, she is Japanese) can perform well tonight. I feel very healthy, and I can't eat welsh rabbits, but I love grilled cheese.”

Dermot listened, half amused and half fed up. How boring all this is! But, had he not given his judgment recklessly?

However, everything is natural, the forces that the medium is said to possess are natural forces, which until now have not been fully understood. A great surgeon could have abdominal pain ahead of going to do a difficult operation. Why Mrs. Thompson didn't?

The chairs are arranged in a circle, the lights too, so that they can be added or reduced in light, as needed. Dermot noticed that there was no question about the validity of this demonstration, and Sir Alington also did not question the conditions for this seance.

No, business with Mrs. Thompson, this is just an excuse. Sir Alington is here for another purpose entirely.

Dermot remembers, Claire's mother had died overseas. There was a mystery surrounding him.

Sick descent...

He gasped and tried to refocus his mind on his current surroundings. Everyone took their place, and the lights were turned off. Only a small hooded red light was left on the table some distance away.

For a moment there was no fire, except the sound of slow and regular breathing of the medium. Slowly his breathing became louder. Then, very suddenly there was a loud knock from the end of the room, which made Dermot jump in shock.

The voice was heard from the other side of the room. Then following a series of beats that are getting louder and louder. After the knocks disappeared, a high-pitched mocking laughter suddenly rang out throughout the room. Then the silence, broken by a voice that is not at all like Mrs's voice. Thompson. This voice shrill his tone up and down faintly.

“I'm here, Brother,” said the voice.

“Yes, I'm here. Would you like to ask?”

“Who are you? Shiromako is?”

“Yes. I'm Shiromaku. I died a long time ago. I'm working. I'm very happy.”

Further details follow about Shiromako's life. His story was very mediocre and uninteresting, and Dermot had often grieved him. Everyone is happy, very happy. There are messages from relatives that are only vaguely described, the depiction is so broad, that it can suit almost anyone. An old woman, the mother of one of the present, mastered the meeting for a while, mentioning the adage in a new and refreshing style, which was completely opposite to the subject spoken of.

“Someone wants to talk now,” Shiromako announced.

“He has a very important message for one of the masters here.”

A moment of silence, then a new voice spoke, beginning with an evil laughter of fidelity.

“Ha ha! Ha ha! Better not go home. Better not go home. Follow my advice.”

“Who are you talking to?” ask Trent.

“One of you three. I wouldn't go home if I were him. The danger! The blood! Not too much blood, but enough. No. gabe. Don't go home.” Then the sound got slower.

“Do not go home!” And finally the voice disappeared completely. Dermot felt goosebumps. He believes the warning was directed at him. Somehow, there's danger threatening him tonight.

There was a sigh from the mouth of the medium, followed by a groan. He began to realize. The lights were lit and finally the medium sat up straight, his eyes flickering slightly.

“Good result? I hope so.”

“Very good, thank you, Mrs. Thompson.”

“Shiromako who came?”