Chapter 7 Chapter Six

It was after four o'clock when we left Price House.Mr. Winnerb treated us to a big and delicious lunch and then took us on a tour of the house.He was really happy to show us his various treasures, and the house did have a lot of odd things. "He must have made a lot of money," I said after we left, "those gems—and European statues, worth a lot of money, let alone his East German porcelain—you have neighbors like that How lucky." "Do you need to say it?" said Rhoda. "Most of the people here are very nice—if they're a little dull. Mr. Wienerb is a lot more interesting."

"What does he make money from?" asked Mrs. Oliver, "or has he always been rich?" Colonel Despar said coldly that no one dared to boast that he had inherited a large sum of money these days, because more than half of the death tax and inheritance tax had been deducted. "Someone told me," he added, "that he was a longshoreman, but it seemed so improbable that he never mentioned his childhood or his family," and turning to Mrs. Oliver, he said, "You wrote Mystery at its best." Mrs. Oliver said that information was often provided that she did not want—

The "White Horse" was a half-timbered house set back from the village street, with a walled garden behind it, which gave it a pleasant old-fashioned air. I felt a little disappointed and said so. "There's nothing sinister about it," I said. "Wait until you get inside before you can express your opinion." Jin Qiao said. We got out of the car and walked to the door, which opened immediately. Miss Cesar Gray stood in the doorway, a tall, manly woman in a tweed coat and skirt.Her thick gray hair fell over a high forehead, her nose was aquiline, and her light blue eyes seemed to read other people's minds.

"You're here at last," she said in a low, eager voice. "I thought you were all lost." I became aware of a face watching us from the dark hall shadows behind her, a strange, shapeless face, like the plastered face of a child who wanders into a sculptor's studio by chance.This, I suppose, is the kind of ordinary face one occasionally sees in primitive Italian paintings. After introducing both parties, Rhoda explained that we had just had lunch with Mr. Wienerbo at Price House. "Oh!" said Miss Gray, "that's right! He's a good Italian cook, and with his house full of special treasures, it's no wonder you're reluctant to leave. Oh, poor thing, there must be something for him to pick up." Spirit. By the way, come in, come in, we're a little proud of our place—fifteenth century, and some of it's fourteenth."

The hall was low and dim, with a spiral staircase leading up.In the hall there was a large fireplace with a picture on it. "It's a sign used by the hotel in the past," Miss Gray found me looking at the painting, and explained, "It's not very clear in this kind of light. It's called 'White Horse'." "Let me sort it out for you," Jin Qiao said, "I said before that if you are willing, you will be surprised at the result." "I don't quite believe it," said Sesha Gray, adding frankly, "What if you break it?" "Of course I don't break it," Kim Joo said angrily. "That's what I do. I work in a London gallery," she explained to me. "Work is fun."

"You really have to get used to the way people fix old paintings in modern times," said Setha Gray. "I can't help but gasp every time I go to the National Gallery now. Every painting looks like it's been cleaned with cleaning agent It's like washing it." "If those paintings look dirty and dark, you won't appreciate them," Jin Qiao argued.She looked at the signboard of the hotel, and said, "If you tidy it up properly, you will see it clearly, and there may be knights soon." I also walked over to look at the painting.Boldly drawn with little merit, a white stallion stands against a dark, blurred background.

"Hey, Sybil," said Setha, "guests are criticizing our 'white horse,'" Miss Sybil came out from behind the door. She was a tall, slender woman with rather dark hair and a smirk and a cold mouth. She was wearing an emerald green Indian dress, but it didn't make her look attractive.Her voice was muffled and weak. "Oh, our dearest, dearest 'horse,'" she said, "we couldn't help falling in love with him as soon as we saw him, and I think that's why we decided to buy the house, Right? Sesha. Oh, come in, come in." She led us into a small square room, probably a former bar.

But now, with its chintz curtains and Chippendale furniture, it had the air of a country lady's drawing room.There are several pots of chrysanthemums in the room. Then, the host took us to the garden again. I think this garden must be beautiful in summer.Back in the house, refreshments were prepared, including sandwiches and some homemade cakes.After we were seated one by one, the owner of the face I had seen in the hall earlier entered with a silver teapot.She was wearing a plain dark green blouse, and upon closer inspection, I felt that my original impression was more correct because of her childlike face.It was a stupid and childish face, but for some reason, I felt a little evil.

All of a sudden, I'm a little angry with myself.These converted hotels and three middle-aged women are so boring! "Thank you, Bella," said Sesha Gray. "Have you got everything you want?" It almost sounds like a grunt or grunt. "Yes, thank you." When Bella came to the door, there was no one there, but just before she was about to go out, she gave me a quick look, and there was something in her eyes that shocked me—though it was hard to say why.In short, there was malice in her eyes, as if she knew what I was thinking without effort. Sesha Gray caught my reaction.

She said softly: "Bella often makes people feel very nervous, doesn't she? Mr. Easterbrook, I caught her looking at you." "Is she local?" I tried to be polite and interested. "Yes, I think someone must have told you that she is a local witch." Sybil Stamforddis jingled her rosary beads. "Just tell the truth, Is—" "Easterbrook." "I'm sure you've heard, Mr. Easterbrook, that we all know witchcraft, so admit it. We're quite famous here, you know." "Perhaps it's not a name," said Setha Gray, who seemed pleased: "Sybyl is indeed gifted."

Sybil sighed happily. She said: "I have always been fascinated by God, and I have known that I have a special ability since I was a child. I often write something inexplicably, and I don't even know what it is. Anyway, I just sit there and write in my hand. Holding a pencil, I often write non-stop, but I don't know what happened. Of course, I have always been very sensitive. Once when I went to a friend's house for tea, I suddenly passed out. Something terrible must have happened in that room... I do know! We heard later that a murder took place in that place—twenty-five years ago! In that room." She nodded and looked around everyone with satisfaction. "It's amazing." Colonel Despers replied politely to the story. "Strange things have happened in this room too," Sybil said mysteriously and threateningly: "But we have taken the necessary measures, and the souls trapped underground have been freed." "Removing ghosts like spring cleaning?" I asked. Sybil looked at me suspiciously. "The colors of your Indian suit are beautiful," said Rhoda. Xi Bier's face brightened again. "Yeah, I bought it in India and I had a lot of fun there. You know, I studied yoga and a lot of other things. But I always thought that was too sophisticated, not close to natural and primitive enough. I think One should see the raw power. I am one of the few women who have been to Haiti, and only there can I really touch the raw spirit of the gods. Of course, it has inevitably been a little distorted and damaged, but its roots It is there." "They showed me a lot of stuff, especially after learning that I have two twin sisters who are a little bit older than me. Because they say that children born after twins have special abilities. Interesting, isn't it? Their dance of death is wonderful, with skulls and criss-crossed circles, and gravedigger's tools, shovels, chisels, hoes, and they wear mourning black clothes and tall hats." "The host of the ceremony is Baron Samide, and the god is Regba, the god who can 'remove obstacles'. He can send out the god of death—to make people die. Weird concept, isn't it?" Xi Bier got up and went to the window sill to get something, and said: "This is my treasure. It is made of dried gourds and a beaded net-have we seen these? It is the backbone of a dried viper. " We looked at it politely, but with little interest. Sybil rattled her spooky toy with love. "Very interesting." Colonel Despers said politely. "I can tell you more stories—" At this time, Xi Bier was telling her various experiences of witchcraft, but my thoughts could not help but fly far—— I turned my head and saw Sesha Gray looking at me strangely. "You don't believe it at all, do you?" she murmured, "but you know you're wrong, and you can't explain everything into superstition, fear, or religious prejudice. There are natural facts, natural Power, there was, and always will be." "I don't want to argue about that," I said. "Very smart, come, take a look at my study." I followed her through the French windows, across the garden, and to the other side of the house. "It was converted from a former stable," she explained. The remodeled room is quite large, and the entire wall is lined with books. When I walked over to take a look, I couldn't help exclaiming: "You've got some rare stuff here, Miss Gray. Is this the original? My God, you've got some treasures." "Yeah, right?" "That Grimmore—what a rarity!" I pulled books one after another from the shelf, and Setha Gray looked at me with a kind of quiet contentment in her expression, but I Don't really understand. I put the book back in my hand, and Sesha Gray said: "It's great to meet someone who appreciates your collection. Most people just yawn or just look at it." "I suppose you know very little about witchcraft," I said. "How did you get interested in the first place?" "It's hard to tell now too, it's been too long. At first it was probably just casually looking at it, and then I got a hold of it. I think it's interesting to study this, to know what people believe - and what stupid things they do! " I laughed. "Interesting, I'm glad you're not blindly believing everything the book says." "You can't judge me by poor Sibyl. Yes, I saw you with a haughty look just now, but you're wrong. In many ways, she's a silly woman who believes in voodoo, ghosts, Witchcraft, has it all in her schedule—yet, she does have magic powers." "Mana?" "I don't know what else to call it. Some people can communicate between this world and another world with magical powers. Sybil is one of them. She is a first-class psychic and never does it for money. That sort of thing. But she's got something special, and every time she, me, and Bella—" "Bella?" "Oh, yes, Bella has psychic powers too, and all three of us have them, to varying degrees. When we're together—" She stopped suddenly. "Like a witch co." I smiled. "You can't say that." I look at another book in my hand. "Like those astrologers at Nastradamus." "Not bad at all." I said calmly, "You believe that, don't you? "It's not 'believe', it's 'know'." There was victory in her tone, and I stared at her: "But how do you know? Know what? What is the reason?" She waved to the entire row of bookshelves and said: "These things! Too much is nonsense! But we don't look at the parts of superstition and prejudice, and the truth at its core is undeniable. The decoration on the outside is just to leave a deeper impression on people. " "I don't quite understand what you mean." "My dear, for thousands of years, why do people seek advice from wizards, warlocks, and witch doctors? There are only two reasons, and there are only two things that make people desperately strive for it. One is an aphrodisiac, and the other is a poison." "Oh!" "It's easy, isn't it? Love—and death. With aphrodisiacs, you can win the man you want and keep him with you. Those who say the devil's name on a full moon night, on the ground or on the wall Drawing some spells on it is just a deceitful whitewash, there is only one thing to do, let the other party take an aphrodisiac!" "Then what about death?" I asked. "Death?" Her short and strange laughter made me feel very uncomfortable. "Are you so interested in death?" "Who isn't?" I said softly. "I don't know." She gave me a sharp, searching look that startled me. "Death is much more complicated than a simple aphrodisiac, but—they have always had a ridiculous attitude towards it in the past. The Borgia family is famous for their secret poison. Do you know what they use? The most primitive Arsenic! Any husband who wants to poison his wife quietly will use arsenic, but it has improved a lot now, and it is the change brought about by science." "A poison that leaves no trace?" I asked suspiciously. "Poison! That's too childish. There are newer ways." "For example?" "The mind, modern scientific knowledge tells us: what the mind is, what it can do, and what humans can do with it." "Please go on, it's very interesting." "The principle is known to everyone. Warlocks have been used in primitive society for many centuries. There is no need to actually kill people, just tell him to die." "Hint? But if the victim doesn't believe it, will it work?" "You mean, it may not work in Europe." She corrected: "Sometimes it works, but the problem is not here, we are much more advanced than witch doctors, psychologists tell us, as long as there is a will to die ! Everyone has the will, just go in that direction." "Interesting," I whispered, with scientific interest, "to make the victim suicidal?" "You're still missing the point. Have you ever heard of trauma causing disease?" "Of course I have." "Some people are really sick because they subconsciously don't want to go back to work. This time it's not faking sickness, it's real sickness, and it causes pain. For a long time, doctors have been unable to explain this situation." "I kind of understand what you mean." I said slowly. "In order to destroy that person, a power must be buried in his subconscious mind, and the death wish that everyone has must be aroused," she became more and more excited. "Don't you understand? It must rely on that wish to die , to make that person 'really' sick. To make that person feel like they want to be sick and want to die -- and so -- get really sick and die." She held her head up triumphantly at this moment, and I suddenly felt so cold.Of course, this is all nonsense, this woman is a bit crazy, but Sesha Gray suddenly laughed. "You don't take my word for it, do you?" "Your theory is fascinating, Miss Grey--very modern, I must admit. But I want to ask you, how can one arouse in a victim that death-will that everyone has?" "That's my secret. There are ways of contact without contact. You only have to think about the principles of radio, radar, and television. The experiments with the psychic powers haven't been developed enough, but that's because they haven't grasped the most Simplicity is the most important principle. Sometimes it can be done by luck-but if you know how it works, you can do whatever you want..." "Can 'you' do it?" She did not answer at once, but moved away a little before she said, "Mr. Easterbrook, you can't make me tell all the secrets." I followed her to the garden gate. "Why are you telling me this?" I asked. "You know my library, sometimes people need-need-talk and-" "Ok?" "I have a feeling—and Bella too—that you—maybe need us." "'Need' you guys?" "Bella thinks you're--came to see us, and she's seldom mistaken." "Why did I 'specially' come to you?" Sesha Gray said softly: "This—I don't know yet."