‘Bah! To hell with your filth! Does it make murder good, you fool?’
‘“Was your skin never reddened by the sucking of the mouth? Did you never bite into an encircling arm and did it not seem good to you to be bruised. … Why, most dear lady, even the child wants to be punished — he yearns for it, he pants for a beating as my father used to say. And he uses a thousand tricks to attract punishment. The mother soothes the child on her arm with gentle pats and the child smiles; she washes it and kisses it on its rosy little bottom, which only just now was so full of dirt, and as the last and greatest treat she gives the dancing baby a slap which sets it crowing for joy.” So said Groddeck. Of Groddeck, the Master, Freud said: “We shall gain a great deal by following the suggestion of Dr Groddeck .. and we need feel no hesitation in finding a place for Dr Groddeck’s discovery in the fabric of science.” Pay no attention, dear lady. All this is not your world.’
‘It is my world, and if, Dr Schiff, you have nothing more to contribute, you can go and —’
Schiff said: ‘Dear lady. Dear, good kind lady. I beg you. Do not look at it like this. Everything is not so easy. There is a good reason for everything. Let us have no sweeping generalizations. Nothing occurs without a good reason.’
‘To hell with your good reasons,’ said Asta, with the memory of the derelict house still in her mind. ‘There isn’t any good reason for anyone to do what that man did. I’m going to find who did it, and, so help me God in heaven, I’m going to hang him. I don’t want him on earth.’
She started to walk away, but Schiff followed her. Asta habitually walked fast, and he was a short-legged, short-winded little man. Still, he kept up with her and trotted beside her talking in gasps:
‘Consider, consider. There is much you want to do. Socially, socially, I grant you very properly. You are a lady with money.’
‘None to give to you, I assure you.’
‘Not so fast, not so fast. Give? Who said give? It is I who want to give. I want to give advice, advice worth money.’
‘I suppose you want me to invest in some wildcat scheme of yours, is that it?’
‘Listen,’ said Schiff, as Asta slowed down. ‘I knew Georg Groddeck. I have studied psychology in Vienna. I know what I’m talking about. There is something you want to achieve. As a millionairess or a multi-millionairess you will achieve what you hope to achieve five times more quickly.’
‘I’m not a millionairess, or half a quarter of a millionairess. And if I didn’t know where my next bit of bread was coming from I’d still achieve what I wanted to achieve, as you put it; so stick that in your pipe and smoke it, Mr Schiff.’
Schiff said: ‘I wasn’t suggesting that you were a millionairess, or a half, or a quarter, or an eighth of a millionairess. I was only going to tell you how to become — not a millionairess, but something like a tenth part of a millionairess. I wanted only to tell you how to make a hundred thousand pounds. I am a psychologist. Also, I am a chemist. I am a psychological cosmeticist. I was with Groddeck, and I knew Coty. Listen. This is the era of the new self-consciousness. This is the period of the self-inflicted psychic wound; the age of masochism. Now, you do not win a lady’s heart by saying: “Dear lady, you are so sweet.” You say, as brutally as possible: “Holy God in heaven, woman, you stink like a dead pig — for Jesus Christ’s sake wash yourself.” You say: “Look at yourself! You are as shaggy as an ungroomed horse, you untidy bitch — do something about it, or you will never get married.” Now I, Miss Thundersley, have evolved a deodorant. Because I know you, and trust you, and like you, I will give you the formula. It is as follows: Glyceryl Minosterat, Triethanolomine Sterate, Glycerine, Hexamethylenetetraminc, a dash of perfume, and water. It is a very good deodorant. It holds back the sweat. It takes away the stink. What more do you want? It is a genuine article. I have a good name for it: P0 0. But, psychologically speaking, the formidable aspect of the advertising campaign is that the copy contains the following statement: Contains Hexamethylenetetramine. Naturally, it must. It could not exist without Hexamethylenetetramine. But consider, psychologically, the impact of that word —_Hexamethylenetetramine_— slap bang in the public eye! And consider also that long word in relation to the brand-name of the product — PO. And consider again, psychologically, the value of the brand-name, POO. A ridiculous name? I grant you that. Completely ridiculous, and even, in a way, slightly improper, since it suggests someone holding the nostrils. Poo! Poo! What happens? The name P00 in itself breeds publicity. It makes its own publicity. People say: “Get yourself some POO.” They say things like that. It passes into the language. In the end, a critic says of a play: “It needs P00.” It may be argued that the purchaser may not like to ask for a product named P0 0. I have a way around that. Actually we call it Po2. In other words, pee double o, which spells POO — Po2. I am absolutely convinced that given a little support it would make a fortune. Or then again, an astringent lotion. And what does it take? A little alum, zinc sulphate; menthol for an illusion of coolness, witch hazel, alcohol, Diethylene Glycol and, of course, water. The operative thing is this: one says, This astringent contains Dieth ylene Glycol: psychologically it’s irresistible. I have also a tooth-powder —’
Asta Thundersley managed, by some unprecedented effort of will, to hold back an avalanche of icy, crushing words. It occurred to her that this learned man Schiff might be of service to her. She said: ‘I never looked at these things that way before. I should be very glad indeed to help — I mean to say that I have been wondering for a long time what to do with a few hundred pounds that I have lying loose. But before I can really give my mind to these things — before I can rest content — I must see that the man who killed Sonia Sabbatani goes where he belongs. I wonder if you can help me?’
Schiff’s round face became alternately red and white with hope and fear while she was speaking. He thought deeply, biting his nails, and at last said: ‘Do you suspect anybody?’
‘I suspect everybody.’
‘If I were you, Miss Thundersley, do you know what I’d do? I’d have a party. Invite everybody, everyone you know. Let everyone come who might possibly have anything to do with this affair. Let one or two of your most trusted friends listen. I’m a psychologist. I’ll help to guide the conversation into certain channels. I tell you that one must wash and dredge the conversation of one’s friends as one of these prospectors for gold dredges the mud of a dirty, shallow river. Through listening to my friends, I have found out many interesting things about them. And sometimes I’ve been of service to many friends by listening to what their friends said. The thing to do is-to get them, dear lady, to relax. At a social gathering there is nothing like alcohol to make people relax, reveal themselves, as it might be described, a catalyst — which hastens the human-chemical reaction. I have a recipe for a drink which I believe I am not far wrong in describing as, psychologically speaking, a catalyst. I evolved it myself. It comes out of much trial and error, dear lady. It does not taste strong, and yet it is strong. In point of fact, the power of this drink lies in the fact that the most potent combination of ingredients are made to seem innocuous. As a matter of fact, I had half hoped to put it on the market. I couldn’t think of a good name for it. You will see for yourself. Besides, it might be a little difficult to market this product on account of the high cost of essential ingredients. For you, I will write down the recipe. The point is this. Ladies and gentlemen, who like to drink, have a tendency after a glass or two, to talk. Then something starts. People reveal themselves. Give a party, dear lady, give a party to all whom you suspect — keep your eyes open and your ears open, and let me keep my ears and eyes also open for you, eh?’