The Hound of Death

'Or did Sister Mary Angelique remember backwards - as some say is possible - and is this city of the circles in the future and not in the past?'


"One of you three. I shouldn't go home if I were him. Danger! Blood! Not very much blood - quite enough. No, don't go home." The voice grew fainter. "Don't go home!"


Dr. Campbell Clerk nodded.
"That girl became one of the most famous figures in France. Scientists from all over the world came to see her. She had no less than four distinct personalities. They were known as Felicie 1, Felicie 2, Felicie 3, etc."


She looked at me, you know... Just the same look - as though she knew something I didn't, and was sorry about it... And then she said quite quietly, nodding her head at me: "I shouldn't go that way, if I were you."


"I don't understand," murmured Mrs. Lancaster feebly.
"No more do I. That - that child is in trouble and wants - to be set free. But how? I do not know, but - it's awful to think of it - sobbing its heart out - a child."


"Mary - you are prepared now ... On Friday I shall come for you ... Friday at half past nine ... Do not be afraid - there will be no pain ... Be ready..."


"Will you please tell me all about it?" She said. "I must know everything. Do not think to spare me. I want to know the worst." She hesitated, then repeated in a lower tone, with a curios emphasis which the lawyer did not understand: "I want to know the worst."


'He swung back - and then stopped, petrified, as a shrill cry rent the silence of the summer's morning.
"Murder," it called. "Help! Murder!"
It was a woman's voice, and it died away at the end into a sort of gurgling sigh.'


'In a moment or two, without undue haste, Sir Arthur uncoiled himself, limb by limb, from his huddled position, and walked slowly over to the table. I recognized suddenly that his movements were absolutely silent, his feet made no sound as trod. Just as he reached the table he gave a tremendous stretch, poised on one leg forward, the other stretching out behind him. He prolonged this exercise to its utmost extent, and then yawned. Never have I seen such a yawn! It seemed to swallow up his entire face.
He now turned his attention to the milk, bending down to the table until his lips touched the fluid.


'Then he noticed that the man was drawing with incredible rapidity on a bare slab of stone. Hamer followed the movement with his eyes... A few bold strokes, and giant trees took form. Then seated on a boulder... a man... playing an instrument of pipes. A man with strangely beautiful face - and goat's leg...'


"It is difficult for me to explain, Monsieur. You see, me, I always thought that this mediums, as they call themselves, were just clever cheats who imposed on the poor souls who had lost their dear ones. But is not like that. Madame is good. Madam is honest and - "
She lowered her voice and spoke in a tone of awe.
"Things happen. It is not trickery, things happen. And that is why I am afraid. For I am sure of this, Monsieur, it is not right. It is against nature and le bon dieu, and somebody will have pay."


SOS. A call for help. But whose finger had written it in the dust? Magdalen's or Charlotte's? They had both stood there, he remembered, for a moment or two, before going out of the room. Whose hand had secretly dropped to the table and traced out those three letters?

Twelve apparently unexplained stories, which reveal the darker side of Agatha Christie.