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"
But
post
-
hypnotic
suggestion
,
implanting
commands
that
are
carried
out
on
a
given
signal
after
the
subject
has
been
woken
from
the
hypnotic
state
and
is
in
all
other
ways
back
to
normal
,
was
"
perfectly
feasible
and
frequently
demonstrated
.
"
Raising
both
arms
above
the
head
.
Conchis
got
this
from
ancient
Egypt
.
It
was
the
Ka
sign
,
used
by
initiates
"
to
gain
possession
of
the
cosmic
forces
of
mystery
.
"
In
many
tomb
paintings
.
It
meant
:
"
I
am
master
of
the
spells
.
Strength
is
mine
.
I
impart
strength
.
"
The
wheel
symbol
.
"
The
mandala
,
or
wheel
,
is
a
universal
symbol
of
existence
.
The
ribbon
on
my
leg
,
the
bare
shoulder
.
From
masonic
ritual
,
but
believed
to
descend
from
the
Eleusinian
mysteries
.
Associated
with
initiation
.
Maria
.
Probably
really
was
a
peasant
,
though
an
intelligent
one
.
She
spoke
only
two
or
three
words
of
French
to
me
;
sat
silent
all
through
the
trial
,
rather
conspicuously
out
of
place
.
Unlike
the
others
,
she
was
what
she
first
seemed
.
Lily
’
s
bank
.
I
wrote
another
letter
,
and
got
back
a
reply
from
the
manager
of
the
real
Barclay
’
s
branch
.
His
name
was
not
P
.
J
.
Fearn
;
and
the
headed
paper
he
wrote
on
was
not
like
that
I
had
received
.
Her
school
.
Julie
Holmes
—
unknown
.
Mitford
.
I
wrote
a
card
to
the
address
in
Northumberland
I
had
had
the
year
before
and
received
a
letter
back
from
his
mother
.
She
said
Alexander
was
now
a
courier
,
working
in
Spain
.
I
got
in
touch
with
the
travel
firm
he
was
working
for
,
but
they
said
he
wouldn
’
t
be
back
till
September
.
I
left
a
letter
for
him
.
The
paintings
at
Bourani
.
I
started
with
the
Bonnards
.
The
first
book
of
reproductions
of
his
work
I
opened
had
the
picture
of
the
girl
drying
by
the
window
.
I
turned
to
the
attributions
list
at
the
back
.
It
was
in
the
Los
Angeles
County
Museum
.
The
book
had
been
printed
m
1950
.
Later
I
"
found
"
the
other
Bonnard
;
at
the
Boston
Museum
of
Fine
Arts
.
Both
had
been
copies
.
The
Modigliani
I
never
traced
;
but
I
suspect
,
remembering
those
curiously
Conchis
-
like
eyes
,
that
it
was
not
even
a
copy
.
Evening
Standard
of
January
8
,
1952
.
No
sign
of
a
photo
of
Lily
and
Rose
,
in
any
edition
.
L
’
Astrée
.
Did
Conchis
remember
that
I
believed
myself
remotely
connected
with
d
’
Urfé
?
The
story
of
L
’
Astrée
is
:
The
shepherdess
Astrée
,
hearing
evil
reports
of
the
shepherd
Celadon
,
banishes
him
from
her
presence
.
A
war
breaks
out
,
and
Astrée
is
taken
prisoner
.
Celadon
manages
to
rescue
her
,
but
she
will
not
forgive
him
.
He
does
not
gain
her
hand
until
he
has
turned
the
lion
and
unicorns
who
devour
unfaithful
lovers
into
statues
of
stone
.
Chaliapin
.
Was
at
Covent
Garden
in
June
,
1914
,
and
in
Prince
Igor
.
"
You
may
be
elect
.
"
When
he
said
that
,
at
our
first
strange
meeting
,
he
meant
simply
,
"
I
’
ve
decided
to
use
you
.
"
That
was
also
the
only
sense
in
which
,
at
the
end
,
I
could
be
elect
.
He
meant
,
"
We
have
used
you
.
"
Lily
and
Rose
.
Two
twin
sisters
,
both
very
pretty
,
gifted
(
though
I
came
to
doubt
Lily
’
s
classical
education
)
,
must
,
if
they
had
been
up
at
Oxford
or
Cambridge
,
have
been
the
double
Zuleika
Dobsons
of
their
years
.
I
could
not
believe
that
they
had
been
at
Oxford
—
since
our
years
must
have
overlapped
—
but
on
the
principle
that
Lily
never
told
me
the
truth
if
she
could
possibly
mislead
me
,
I
tried
it
first
.
I
concocted
a
story
about
my
being
a
scout
for
an
American
film
producer
who
needed
a
pair
of
fair
-
haired
English
twins
and
"
had
heard
"
of
two
at
Oxford
.
It
wasn
’
t
a
very
good
story
and
it
involved
me
in
some
ludicrous
improvising
—
which
incidentally
made
me
realize
in
retrospect
how
great
had
been
Lily
’
s
skill
in
that
art
.
I
tried
the
magazines
,
I
tried
the
OUDS
and
the
ETC
,
I
even
braved
several
of
the
women
’
s
college
bursaries
;
and
got
nowhere
.
I
went
to
Cambridge
and
did
the
same
thing
;
and
got
nowhere
;
least
of
all
at
Girton
.
Of
course
I
realize
that
because
they
were
twin
sisters
there
was
no
reason
why
they
should
have
gone
to
the
same
university
.
But
at
both
Cambridge
and
Oxford
I
was
shown
stills
from
all
the
main
undergraduate
productions
of
the
last
few
years
—
and
no
Lily
-
Rose
face
in
any
of
them
.
Armed
with
a
slightly
less
implausible
story
—
my
rich
American
producer
had
become
an
eccentric
rich
American
producer
—
I
went
round
a
few
London
theatrical
agencies
.
Several
of
them
had
pairs
of
twins
on
their
books
,
even
blonde
(
or
platinum
blonde
)
twins
;
but
not
Lily
or
Rose
.
The
Tavistock
Repertory
:
a
total
blank
.
No
productions
of
Lysistrata
.
The
agent
’
s
name
:
unknown
.
I
tried
RADA
;
with
similar
unsuccess
.
One
cunning
device
in
the
"
Julie
Holmes
"
invention
:
we
tend
to
believe
people
who
have
had
the
same
experiences
as
ourselves
;
who
mirror
us
.
So
her
naval
commander
father
equaled
my
brigadier
father
;
her
Cambridge
,
my
Oxford
;
her
unhappy
love
affaire
,
mine
;
her
year
’
s
teaching
,
mine
.
Her
being
"
interfered
with
"
was
an
irony
,
obviously
;
or
perhaps
an
echo
of
Artemis
’
s
mythical
fear
of
the
pains
of
childbirth
.
But
perhaps
she
told
me
this
to
make
it
easier
for
me
to
confess
in
return
.
Looks
she
gave
me
:
as
if
she
was
waiting
for
something
.
And
if
I
had
spoken
…
?
Othello
,
Act
I
,
Scene
III
.
She
is
abus
’
d
,
stol
’
n
from
me
,
and
corruptedBy
spells
and
medicines
bought
of
mountebanks
;
For
nature
so
preposterously
to
err
,
Being
not
deficient
,
blind
,
or
lame
of
sense
,
Sans
witchcraft
could
not
.
And
:
A
maiden
never
bold
;
Of
spirit
so
still
and
quiet
,
that
her
motionBlush
’
d
at
herself
;
and
she
,
in
spite
of
nature
,
Of
years
,
of
country
,
credit
,
every
thing
,
To
fall
in
love
with
what
she
fear
’
d
to
look
on
!
Polymus
Films
.
I
didn
’
t
see
the
obvious
,
that
one
misplaced
letter
,
until
painfully
late
.
The
famous
whore
Io
.
Lemprière
:
"
In
the
ancient
Gothic
Io
and
Gio
signified
earth
,
as
Isi
or
Isa
signified
’
ice
’
or
water
in
its
primordial
state
;
and
both
were
equally
titles
of
the
goddess
,
who
represented
the
productive
and
nutritive
power
of
the
earth
.
"
Indian
Kali
,
Syrian
Astarte
(
Ashtaroth
)
,
Egyptian
Isis
and
Greek
Io
were
considered
one
and
the
same
goddess
.
She
had
three
colors
(
on
the
walls
in
the
trial
)
:
white
,
red
,
and
black
,
the
phases
of
the
moon
,
and
also
the
phases
of
woman
:
virgin
,
mother
,
and
crone
.
Lily
was
evidently
the
goddess
in
her
white
,
virgin
phase
;
and
perhaps
in
the
black
,
as
well
Rose
would
have
stood
for
the
red
phase
;
but
then
Alison
was
given
that
role
.
Tartarus
.
The
more
I
read
,
the
more
I
began
to
reidentify
the
whole
situation
at
Bourani
—
or
at
any
rate
the
final
situation
—
with
Tartarus
.
Tartarus
was
ruled
by
a
king
,
Hades
(
or
Conchis
)
;
a
Queen
,
Persephone
,
bringer
of
destruction
(
Lily
)
—
who
remained
"
six
months
with
Hades
in
the
infernal
regions
and
spent
the
rest
of
the
year
with
her
mother
Demeter
on
earth
.
"
There
was
also
a
supreme
judge
in
Tartarus
—
Minos
(
the
presiding
"
doctor
"
with
a
beard
?
)
;
and
of
course
there
was
Anubis
-
Cerberus
,
the
black
dog
with
three
heads
(
three
roles
?
)
.
And
Tartarus
was
where
Eurydice
went
when
Orpheus
lost
her
.
I
was
aware
that
in
all
this
I
was
acting
the
role
I
had
decided
not
to
act
:
that
of
detective
,
of
hunter
,
and
several
times
I
abandoned
the
chase
.
But
then
one
,
and
one
of
the
apparently
least
promising
,
of
my
hits
of
research
bore
spectacular
results
.
It
began
,
one
Monday
,
with
a
very
long
shot
,
the
assumption
that
Conchis
had
lived
in
St
.
John
’
s
Wood
as
a
boy
and
that
there
had
indeed
been
an
original
Lily
Montgomery
.
I
went
to
Marylebone
Central
Library
and
asked
to
look
at
the
street
directories
for
1912
to
1914
.
Of
course
the
name
Conchis
would
not
appear
;
I
looked
for
Montgomery
.
Acacia
Road
,
Prince
Albert
Road
,
Henstridge
Place
,
Queen
’
s
Grove
…
with
an
A
to
Z
of
London
by
my
side
I
worked
through
all
the
likely
streets
on
the
east
of
Wellington
Road
.
Suddenly
,
with
a
shock
of
excitement
,
my
eyes
jumped
a
page
.
Montgomery
,
Fredk
,
20
Allitsen
Road
.
The
neighbors
’
names
were
given
as
Smith
and
Manningham
,
although
by
1914
the
latter
had
moved
and
the
name
Huckstepp
appeared
.
I
wrote
down
the
address
,
and
then
went
on
searching
.
Almost
at
once
,
on
the
other
side
of
the
main
artery
,
I
came
across
another
Montgomery
;
this
time
in
Elm
Tree
Road
.
But
I
no
sooner
caught
sight
of
it
than
I
was
disappointed
,
because
the
full
name
was
given
as
Sir
Charles
Penn
Montgomery
;
an
eminent
surgeon
,
by
the
look
of
the
trail
of
initials
after
his
name
;
and
obviously
not
the
man
Conchis
described
.
The
neighbors
’
names
there
were
HamiltonDukes
and
Charlesworth
.
There
was
another
title
among
the
Elm
Tree
Road
residents
;
a
"
desirable
"
address
.
I
searched
on
,
double
-
checking
everything
,
but
without
finding
any
other
Montgomery
.
I
then
followed
up
in
later
directories
the
two
I
had
found
.
The
Allitsen
Road
Montgomery
disappeared
in
1920
.
Annoyingly
the
Elm
Tree
Road
Montgomery
went
on
much
longer
,
though
Sir
Charles
must
have
died
in
1922
;
after
that
the
owner
’
s
name
appeared
as
Lady
Florence
Montgomery
,
and
continued
so
right
up
to
1938
.
After
lunch
I
drove
up
to
Allitsen
Road
.
As
I
swung
into
it
,
I
knew
it
was
no
good
.
The
houses
were
small
terrace
houses
,
nothing
like
the
"
mansions
"
Conchis
had
described
.
Five
minutes
later
I
was
in
Elm
Tree
Road
.
At
least
it
looked
more
the
part
:
a
pretty
circumflex
of
mixed
largish
houses
and
early
Victorian
mews
and
cottages
.
It
also
looked
encouragingly
unaltered
.
No
.
46
turned
out
to
be
one
of
the
largest
houses
in
the
road
.
I
parked
my
car
and
walked
up
a
drive
between
banks
of
dead
hydrangeas
to
a
neo
-
Georgian
front
door
;
rang
a
bell
.
But
it
sounded
in
an
empty
house
,
and
sounded
so
all
through
August
.
Whoever
lived
there
was
on
holiday
.
I
found
out
his
name
in
that
year
’
s
directory
—
a
Mr
.
Simon
Marks
.
I
also
found
out
from
an
old
Who
’
s
Who
that
the
illustrious
Sir
Charles
Penn
Montgomery
had
had
three
daughters
.
I
could
probably
have
found
out
their
names
,
but
I
had
by
then
become
anxious
to
drag
my
investigations
out
,
as
a
child
his
last
few
sweets
.
It
was
almost
a
disappointment
when
,
one
day
early
in
September
,
I
saw
a
car
parked
in
the
driveway
,
and
knew
that
another
faint
hope
was
about
to
be
extinguished
.
The
bell
was
answered
by
an
Italian
in
a
white
housecoat
.
"
I
wonder
if
I
could
speak
to
the
owner
?
Or
his
wife
.
"
"
You
have
appointment
?
"
"
No
.
"
"
You
sell
something
?
"
I
was
rescued
by
a
sharp
voice
.
"
Who
is
it
,
Ercole
?
"
She
appeared
,
a
woman
of
sixty
,
a
Jewess
,
expensively
dressed
,
intelligent
-
looking
.
"
Oh
,
I
’
m
engaged
on
some
research
and
I
’
m
trying
to
trace
a
family
called
Montgomery
.
"
"
Sir
Charles
Penn
?
The
surgeon
?
"
"
I
believed
he
lived
here
.
"
"
Yes
,
he
lived
here
.
"
The
houseboy
waited
,
and
she
waved
him
away
in
a
grande
-
dame
manner
;
part
of
the
wave
came
my
way
.
"
In
fact
…
this
is
rather
difficult
to
explain
…
I
’
m
really
looking
for
a
Miss
Lily
Montgomery
.
"
"
Yes
.
I
know
her
.
"
She
was
evidently
not
amused
by
the
astonished
smile
that
broke
over
my
face
.
"
You
wish
to
see
her
?
"
"
I
’
m
writing
a
monograph
on
a
famous
Greek
writer
—
famous
in
Greece
,
that
is
,
and
I
believe
Miss
Montgomery
knew
him
well
many
years
ago
when
he
lived
in
England
.
"
"
What
is
his
name
?
"
"
Maurice
Conchis
.
"
She
had
clearly
never
heard
of
him
.
The
lure
of
the
search
overcame
a
little
of
her
distrust
,
and
she
said
,
"
I
will
find
you
the
address
.
Come
in
.
"
I
waited
in
the
splendid
hall
.
An
ostentation
of
marble
and
ormolu
;
pier
glasses
;
what
looked
like
a
Fragonard
.
Petrified
opulence
,
tense
excitement
.
In
a
minute
she
reappeared
with
a
card
.
On
it
I
read
:
Mrs
.
Lily
de
Seitas
,
Dinsford
House
,
Much
Hadham
,
Herts
.
"
I
haven
’
t
seen
her
for
several
years
,
"
said
the
lady
.
"
Thank
you
very
much
.
"
I
began
backing
towards
the
door
.
"
Would
you
like
tea
?
A
drink
?
"
There
was
something
glistening
,
obscurely
rapacious
,
about
her
eyes
,
as
if
while
she
had
been
away
she
’
d
decided
that
there
might
be
a
pleasure
to
suck
from
me
.
A
mantis
woman
;
starved
in
her
luxury
.
I
was
glad
to
escape
.
Before
I
drove
off
I
looked
once
more
at
the
substantial
houses
on
either
side
of
No
.
46
.
In
one
of
them
Conchis
must
have
spent
his
youth
.
Behind
No
.
46
was
what
looked
like
a
factory
,
though
I
had
discovered
from
the
A
to
Z
that
it
was
the
back
of
the
stands
of
Lord
’
s
cricket
ground
.
The
gardens
were
hidden
because
of
the
high
walls
,
but
the
"
little
orchard
"
must
now
be
dwarfed
by
the
stands
overhead
,
though
very
probably
they
had
not
been
built
before
the
First
War
.
The
next
morning
at
eleven
I
was
in
Much
Hadham
.
It
was
a
very
fine
day
,
cloudless
September
blue
;
a
day
to
compare
with
a
Greek
day
.
Dinsford
House
lay
some
way
out
of
the
village
,
and
although
it
was
not
quite
so
grand
as
it
sounded
,
it
was
no
hovel
;
a
five
-
bay
period
house
,
posed
graciously
and
gracefully
,
brick
-
red
and
white
,
in
an
acre
or
so
of
well
-
kept
grounds
.
This
time
the
door
was
opened
by
a
Scandinavian
au
pair
girl
.
Yes
,
Mrs
.
de
Seitas
was
in
—
she
was
down
at
the
stables
,
if
I
’
d
go
round
the
side
.
I
walked
over
the
gravel
and
under
a
brick
arch
.
There
were
two
garages
,
and
a
little
further
down
I
could
see
and
smell
stables
.
A
small
boy
appeared
from
a
door
holding
a
bucket
.
He
saw
me
and
called
,
"
Mummy
!
There
’
s
a
man
.
"
A
slim
woman
in
jodhpurs
,
a
red
headscarf
and
a
red
tartan
shirt
came
out
of
the
same
door
.
She
seemed
to
be
in
her
early
forties
;
a
still
pretty
,
erect
woman
with
an
open
-
air
complexion
.
"
Can
I
help
you
?
"
"
I
’
m
actually
looking
for
Mrs
.
de
Seitas
.
"
"
I
am
Mrs
.
de
Seitas
.
"
I
had
it
so
fixed
in
my
mind
that
she
would
be
gray
-
haired
,
Conchis
’
s
age
.
Closer
to
her
,
I
could
see
crowsfeet
and
a
slight
but
telltale
flabbiness
round
the
neck
;
the
still
brown
hair
was
probably
dyed
.
She
might
be
nearer
fifty
than
forty
;
but
that
made
her
still
ten
years
too
young
.
"
Mrs
.
Lily
de
Seitas
?
"
"
Yes
.
"
"
I
’
ve
got
your
address
from
Mrs
.
Simon
Marks
.
"
A
minute
change
in
her
expression
told
me
that
I
had
not
recommended
myself
.
"
I
’
ve
come
to
ask
you
if
you
would
help
on
a
matter
of
literary
research
.
"
"
Me
!
"
"
If
you
were
once
Miss
Lily
Montgomery
.
"
"
But
my
father
—
"
"
It
’
s
not
about
your
father
.
"
A
pony
whinnied
inside
the
stable
.
The
little
boy
stared
at
me
hostilely
;
his
mother
urged
him
away
,
to
go
and
fill
his
bucket
.
I
put
on
all
my
Oxford
charm
.
"
If
it
’
s
terribly
inconvenient
,
of
course
I
’
ll
come
back
another
time
.
"
"
We
’
re
only
mucking
out
.
"
She
leant
the
besom
she
was
carrying
against
the
wall
.
"
But
who
?
"
"
I
’
m
writing
a
study
of
—
Maurice
Conchis
?
"
I
watched
her
like
a
hawk
;
but
I
was
over
a
bare
field
.
"
Maurice
who
?
"
"
Conchis
.
"
I
spelt
it
.
"
He
’
s
a
famous
Greek
writer
.
He
lived
in
this
country
when
he
was
young
.
"
She
brushed
back
a
strand
of
hair
rather
gauchely
with
her
gloved
hand
;
she
was
,
I
could
see
,
one
of
those
country
Englishwomen
who
are
abysmally
innocent
about
everything
except
horses
,
homes
and
children
.
"
Honestly
,
I
’
m
awfully
sorry
,
but
there
must
be
some
mistake
.
"
"
You
may
have
known
him
under
the
name
of
…
Charlesworth
?
Or
Hamilton
-
Dukes
?
A
long
time
ago
.
The
First
World
War
.
"
"
But
my
dear
man
—
I
’
m
sorry
,
not
my
dear
man
…
oh
dear
—
"
she
broke
off
rather
charmingly
.
