The Twenty-Third Man Read Online Free PDF Page A

don’t mean shock treatment or anything of that kind! I thought an analysis under light hypnosis would be best.’
    Dame Beatrice cackled. ‘Hypnosis would certainly be necessary,’ she agreed. She got up. ‘I am glad your son did not push me into the ornamental pond,’ she added.
    ‘Well, for your sake…’ Mrs Drashleigh began.
    ‘For his,’ said Dame Beatrice. She smiled kindly and strolled towards the steps down which father and son had disappeared . It would be interesting to see the end of the chase, she thought.
    Half-way down she met Mr Drashleigh toiling terrace-wards. He was alone. He mopped his brow and seemed relieved to have an excuse to pause for breath.
    ‘The hotel should install a lift, I think,’ he said. ‘You will find it a long pull up if you are thinking of descending to the beach.’
    ‘Yes, I think I will turn back with you,’ said Dame Beatrice. ‘Are you and your wife proposing to join the party tomorrow?’
    ‘What party?’
    ‘The party which is to visit the cave of dead men.’
    ‘Oh, that party! I could wish it elsewhere! That is why Clement is being so tiresome today.’
    ‘Indeed?’
    ‘Yes, I’m afraid so. Mr Peterhouse invited my wife and me to go, and was thoughtless enough to do so in front of the boy. Well, of course, we could not take a child of his age to see anything unpleasant like that. It might colour his whole outlook for years to come. I could not think of exposing him to such horrors!’
    ‘No doubt you are quite right. I remember, however, that my own son, at about the same age, insisted upon visiting a kind of grotto in the south of France where were exhibited the embalmed remains of the abbots of the local monastery.’
    ‘ Insisted? You did not allow him to go!’
    ‘Indeed I did. I thought it the lesser of two evils.’
    ‘In what way?’
    ‘It satisfied his curiosity, which might otherwise have turned morbid, and it convinced him that, as a chamber of horrors, the spectacle had been overrated.’
    ‘That is one way of looking at it, of course.’
    It was clear to Dame Beatrice that he did not think so, and she changed the subject by asking him what he thought of the hotel. He was still telling her when they reached the terrace.
    ‘But where is Clement?’ asked his wife.
    ‘Sitting on the moored raft out in the bay, dear. I could see him before I got right down to the beach, so it was obviously useless to go further.’
    ‘Oh, dear! He is being difficult, and all because we refused to take him to that disgusting cave! Well, I suppose we must just sit here until he chooses to come back.’
    ‘No, dear. He must be taught a little lesson. Let him come and find us . Come along to the suite.’
    Caroline rejoined Dame Beatrice as soon as the fatuous couple had gone.
    ‘Well?’ she said, seating herself in the chair which Mrs Drashleigh had vacated. ‘Did you enjoy a cosy chat?’
    ‘Yes. Mrs Drashleigh has asked for my professional services for Clement.’
    ‘The only professional services that would do any good to that frightful little monster would be those of an undertaker, I should think.’
    ‘Come, come! Live and let live, you know.’
    ‘That little fiend has the same mentality, exactly, as those brutes who killed my husband! I can’t stand him! And I think his stupid parents ought to be hanged!’
    She burst into tears and rushed into the hotel. Dame Beatrice remained where she was. She was not easily shocked, but there was something infinitely shocking about the hatred which Caroline felt for the boy. As she was thinking thus, he appeared at the top of the steps. He was a sturdy, freckled child with almost white hair, a very white skin except where the sun had scorched it, and a sullen droop to his mouth. He was wearing bathing trunks and rope-soled shoes and carried a brightly-striped towel. He was not at all an unattractive figure. He climbed to the terrace, flung the towel on the ground, and seated himself upon it. ‘Hullo,’ he