The Further Adventures of Solar Pons Read online

  The Further Adventures of Solar Pons

  THE FURTHER

  ADVENTURES OF

  SOLAR PONS

  By Basil Copper

  The Solar Pons series is based on characters

  created by August Derleth.

  Published in 1987 by

  Academy Chicago Publishers 425 North Michigan Avenue Chicago, Illinois 60611

  Copyright © 1979, 1987 by Basil Copper Printed and bound in the USA

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the publisher.

  Library of Congress Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

  Copper, Basil.

  The further adventures of Solar Pons.

  "Based on the characters and series created by August Derleth."

  1. Pons, Solar (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 2. Detective and mystery stories, English. I. Title.

  PR6053.0658F8 1987 823'.914 87-19368

  ISBN 0-89733-271-4

  ISBN 0-89733-273-3 (pbk.)

  an ebookman scan

  The Solar Pons Series by August Derleth:

  #01 REGARDING SHERLOCK HOLMES

  #02 THE CHRONICLES OF SOLAR PONS

  #03 THE MEMOIRS OF SOLAR PONS

  #04 THE CASEBOOK OF SOLAR PONS

  #05 THE REMINISCENCES OF SOLAR PONS

  #06 THE RETURN OF SOLAR PONS

  #07 MR. FAIRLIE'S FINAL JOURNEY!

  The Solar Pons Series Continued By Basil Copper:

  #08 THE DOSSIER OF SOLAR PONS

  #09 THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF SOLAR PONS

  #10 THE SECRET FILES OF SOLAR PONS

  #08 THE DOSSIER OF SOLAR PONS

  #09 THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF SOLAR PONS

  #10 THE SECRET FILES OF SOLAR PONS

  #11 THE UNCOLLECTED CASES OF SOLAR PONS

  #12 THE EXPLOITS OF SOLAR PONS

  #13 THE RECOLLECTIONS OF SOLAR PONS

  #14 SOLAR PONS-THE FINAL CASES

  Contents

  The Further Adventures of Solar Pons

  Contents

  The Adventure of the Shaft of Death

  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

  The Adventure of the Frightened Governess

  1 2 3 4 5 6

  The Adventure of the Defeated Doctor

  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

  Murder at the Zoo

  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

  End of The Further Adventures of Solar Pons

  The Adventure of the Shaft of Death

  1

  "YOU ARE UP early this morning, Parker?"

  "Indeed, Pons. In fact I have been up all night on a difficult case and have only just come in."

  "Ah, that accounts for the mud on your boots for it has only started raining within the last half-hour."

  Solar Pons was in genial mood as he faced me in the sitting-room of our cosy quarters at 7B Praed Street, despite the rawness of the morning and the earliness of the hour. He waved me into a chair in front of the fire which Mrs Johnson had already lit.

  "You look all in, my dear fellow. Breakfast will be ready shortly."

  "I shall do justice to it, Pons," I said. "You have something afoot, if I am not mistaken?"

  "The conclusion of a small affair, Parker. The addition of a full-stop to a sentence as it were. I expect one call from Bancroft and if it gives me the news for which I have been waiting—that Karl Voss has been arrested in Holland—then I shall be satisfied."

  He turned to the darkened window of the sitting-room, where the feeble rays of the street lamps were slowly being dispelled by the dawn, and tamped fresh tobacco into the bowl of his pipe.

  "Though it means that I shall be at liberty again. And

  I confess that I find London confoundedly dull without the excitement of the chase."

  "A little rest would do you good, Pons," said I. "You have been promising to accompany me to Scotland for some time."

  "Pshaw, Parker, just look at it!"

  Pons could not keep the disgust from his voice as he spread his hands to indicate the dismal sheets of rain falling outside the window.

  "November is entirely the wrong time of year. And I prefer the capital. The sniffing out of evil-doing is holiday enough."

  I closed my eyes and held out my hands to the warmth of the fireplace.

  "I must confess that November is not the best time, Pons, but as your medical adviser as well as your friend, I must say you have been heavily overworking of late."

  Solar Pons chuckled.

  "Physician, heal thyself! I know you have the best intentions, my dear fellow, but just look at yourself this morning, grey with fatigue. If anyone overworks it is your average medical man. Why, I do not suppose you have had three straight days off in a row in the past year."

  I snorted indignantly and opened my eyes. Solar Pons was standing in front of me, looking down with a whimsical expression on his face.

  "If anyone needs a holiday it is you, Parker. My prescription for you is a fortnight at some Continental Spa. Or perhaps the winter sunshine of Nice."

  "You are no doubt right, Pons," I grumbled. "And it is true that I do need a holiday. But who is to pay for such a luxury as you describe is beyond my humble powers of ratiocination."

  Pons smiled broadly.

  "The King of Bavaria was unusually lavish in that little matter in which I was able to assist him, Parker. It was my intention that you should be my guest."

  "It is extremely generous of you, Pons," I mumbled. "But I could not possibly permit it."

  Solar Pons sat down at the breakfast table and looked at me musingly as I sprawled in the armchair.

  "Well, if Scotland does not suit me and Monte Carlo does not suit you, we must content ourselves with some more modest programme of relaxation."

  He broke off as Mrs Johnson's well-scrubbed face with its heavy coils of hair looked interrogatively round the door. A pleasing aroma of fried bacon and hot coffee rose from the covered tray she carried.

  "Come in, Mrs Johnson, come along in," said Pons briskly, rising swiftly and opening the door for her. "You are indeed welcome this inclement November morning. Dr Parker here is almost exhausted with his night's work. I have been trying to persuade him to take a brief holiday."

  "I have been telling Dr Parker that for months," said our good landlady, bustling about the table.

  I rose from my position by the fire and swiftly retired to wash my hands. When I regained the sitting-room Mrs Johnson had finished her preparations and Pons was pouring coffee for us from the silver-plated pot.

  "Mrs Johnson's diagnosis—and it is one with which I entirely concur—is a week at one of our spa towns, to be taken before the end of the month," said Pons decisively.

  Mrs Johnson smiled as I seated myself opposite Pons and reached for the toast.

  "It is very good of you both to take such trouble over my health," I said mildly. "My locum would be quite agreeable, I have no doubt, and I am open to suggestions."

  "Ah, we progress, Mrs Johnson," said Pons briskly, rubbing his hands together. "This began with Parker trying to pack me off to Scotland in the current abominable weather and now we are prescribing for him."

  "If you ask me, you are both in need of a holiday, Mr Pons," said our landlady, quitting the room.

  Pons looked quizzically after her as she closed the door and waited until she had descended the stairs.

  "That admirable woman is right, you know, Parker," he said after a few minutes given over to the heaped plateful of food in front of him. "What say you to a modest jaunt?"

  I put down my coffee cup in exasperation.

  "It was I who suggested the holiday, Pons," I began with some asperity. "But I ca
nnot really see us sitting in some dismal spa with a string orchestra playing, surrounded by gouty old gentlemen."

  Solar Pons stroked his chin, little lines of humour showing at the corners of his mouth.

  "You are right, Parker," he said. "You paint an horrific picture. We shall have to choose our venue with care."

  And he said nothing further on the matter that morning. My medical duties took me out again after lunch and it was not until tea-time that I again set foot in our comfortable quarters. Pons was sitting in his mouse-coloured dressing gown and Mrs Johnson had laid an occasional table up near the fire for high tea. I caught sight of crumpets, toasted teacakes, bread and butter and Madeira cake in my first glance and the expression on my face drew a dry chuckle from my companion.

  "I told Mrs Johnson you would no doubt be extremely weary by the time you came in, Parker, and I think that on this occasion she has excelled herself."

  "Indeed, Pons," I said, sinking into an easy chair and allowing him to press a plate heaped with delicacies on me.

  "You seem in ebullient mood," I added, when the keen edge of my appetite had been blunted.

  "I have reason, Parker. I have just heard from Bancroft that Karl Voss was taken in Amsterdam early this morning. The case is closed."

  "Congratulations, Pons. You will be free to take Mrs Johnson's advice, then?"

  "Why not, Parker? We have still to select a destination in which boredom may be safely kept at bay. If nothing in London intervenes, I shall be ready by Monday of next week."

  "Very well, Pons," I said, stirring my tea. "I will make the arrangements with my locum."

  "And in the meantime, my dear fellow, we have a gazetteer and an excellent selection of guidebooks on the shelf yonder. No, Parker, I think we will wait until after tea, if you please. I find that melted butter and art paper do not go well together."

  2

  "Bath I think it is, then, Pons?"

  The sitting-room was blue with tobacco-smoke and Pons and I, sprawled either side of the fire with whiskies at our elbows, had grown weary of the maps and guides which littered the table in front of us.

  "It would appear to combine elegance and Roman antiquity with the benefits of urban entertainment such as can only be provided by a large city, Parker," said Pons languidly. "It is many years since I was last there and it is certainly one of the great cities of Europe. You are positively inspired this evening, my dear fellow."

  "All I am worried about is whether we can get away in time, Pons," I said. "I have arranged things with my locum and it would be annoying, not to say disappointing, if I had to cancel."

  Pons raised his eyebrows.

  "I do not follow you, Parker."

  "Now you are being obtuse, Pons," I could not resist saying. "Are you really telling me that if an interesting case arises before Monday, you will turn it down?"

  Solar Pons smiled a thin smile as he took the pipe from his mouth.

  "A point, Parker, a definite point. You are developing quite a pawky sense of humour of late."

  He blew out a cloud of aromatic blue smoke and eyed me seriously.

  "My dear fellow, I have given you my word. We have both been stretching ourselves. I guarantee that we will be on that train on Monday morning."

  With that I had to rest content but I must confess I spent an uneasy week-end, only really relaxing when we were safely ensconced with our luggage in the taxi on the way to Paddington on Monday. It was a dry, sunny day and my spirits rose considerably. Pons too was unusually affected by the weather and even hummed a bar or two of a popular air in a tuneless monotone until I begged him to desist.

  We lunched on the train and I watched the rich countryside unfold beyond the windows in a euphoric dream, conscious that Pons was again buried in his magazine and making elaborate calculations in pencil on its margin. In midafternoon we descended at Bath Spa Station and hailed a taxi. It was a bright, dry day still with scudding clouds and Pons looked with satisfaction at the Georgian buildings of the creamy local stone as we drove up Manvers Street and onward to the Grand Parade, leaving the massive pile of the Abbey on our left.

  The taxi turned right over the elegant Pulteney Bridge with its shops in the style of Florence and Pons looked at the foaming race of Pulteney Weir as we crossed the Avon, the scale of the city slowly being revealed to us.

  "I was not mistaken, Parker," said Solar Pons with satisfaction. "Roman Bath. Still one of the most elegant cities of Europe, I think."

  "Undoubtedly, Pons," I replied. "I trust you will find much to occupy you here."

  "The prospect certainly seems a little less arid than it did in Praed Street a few hours ago," Pons conceded drily. "Though whether I shall think so at the end of a week spent in these Georgian surroundings is another matter."

  "Come, Pons," I said with some asperity. "This is my holiday too. We must just make the best of it."

  "You make it sound a penance, Parker," said Solar Pons with a wry laugh as the taxi passed through Aura Place and pulled up at an imposing hotel in Great Pulteney Street. Our rooms were ready and after we had registered and unpacked, I met Pons in the lobby and suggested afternoon tea at the Pump Room.

  "I must say, Parker, you are throwing yourself into the role quite thoroughly. But it sounds a not unpleasant idea."

  He consulted his watch.

  "It is just after four. An apposite hour."

  Before we could leave the lobby, however, there was an interruption, as the receptionist came over from her rosewood desk at one side of the spacious entrance.

  "Mr Pons? This just came for you, Mr Pons."

  I looked at Pons resignedly as the girl handed him the telegram.

  "Not bad news, Pons?"

  Solar Pons' lean face lit up and he rubbed his hands together briskly.

  "Good news, Parker. It seems that my services are needed."

  He handed me the form. It was addressed Pons, c/o Hotel Glendale and simply said:

  MUST CONSULT YOU MATTER LIFE AND DEATH.

  8 P.M. THIS EVENING YOUR HOTEL.

  SEPTIMUS GRIMPTON.

  I sighed and handed the form back to Pons.

  "This is supposed to be a holiday, Pons."

  "Is it not, Parker."

  Solar Pons looked at me sideways in a conspiratorial manner as we descended the steps of the hotel and set off in the direction of the centre of Bath. It was dusk and lamps were blooming along the broad vista of Great Pulteney Street and the grace and symmetry of the houses made one think we were back in the eighteenth century.

  "Who on earth is Septimus Grimpton, Pons?"

  "Your guess is as good as mine, Parker. I have never heard of the man."

  "He has certainly heard of you, Pons," I said somewhat bitterly. "And how did he know you were staying here?"

  "Possibly the good Mrs Johnson released our address in Bath, Parker."

  I shook my head.

  "That is a great pity, Pons."

  "On the contrary, my dear Parker, Mrs Johnson was merely following out instructions."

  "But we have just arrived, Pons," I protested. "And if you have to return to London .. ."

  "My dear fellow, I shall not be returning to London. If Mr Grimpton is calling at our hotel, is it not likely that he lives or has business in this neighbourhood? I hardly fancy that he would travel all this way from London just to consult me, especially when Mrs Johnson would have acquainted him with the fact that it is my holiday."

  I stared at Pons for a moment as we crossed the bridge over the Avon and turned left into Grand Parade.

  "That puts a different complexion on the matter, Pons."

  "Does it not, Parker. And now let us absorb the unique atmosphere of this extraordinary city. Observe the almost magical way in which the Abbey rises from the dusk. If I am not much mistaken England's first Archbishop began its building."

  We crossed the street and wandered through the precincts to where the lights of the Pump Room beckoned from the shadows. The area was cr
owded with shoppers and tourists and the red afterglow of the sun yet lingered in the west, turning the upper stones of the ancient Abbey Towers to carmine.

  The rococo splendour of the Pump Room engulfed us and as we sat waiting for the buxom waitress to bring us tea, Pons glanced round the vast hall with its Chippendale furniture, absorbed in his study of the faces of the people who sipped their tea or ate their Bath buns, while their conversation rose like the murmur of the sea to the high ceiling far overhead.

  An eight-piece orchestra on a dais at the far end of the huge room struck up a Strauss waltz and Pons turned back to me with an ironic smile.

  "You are in your element now, Parker."

  I waited until the waitress had put down the tea-tray, conscious of the toasted crumpets and other delicacies that were spread out on its silver surface.

  "You must confess that it has a certain charm, Pons." Pons nodded.

  "Oh, I give you that, my dear fellow. As a holiday it has much to commend it. As a way of life it would soon pall."

  "I could not agree more, Pons," I said. "But as we are on holiday let us just enjoy it."

  And with that I bit with satisfaction into my first crumpet.

  3

  We were sitting in the lounge of the hotel at a quarter past eight when a page-boy came in, followed by an elderly man dressed in a thick overcoat with a fur collar.

  "Ah, Parker," said Pons, rising from his place by the fire. "That should be the mysterious Mr Grimpton if I mistake not."

  It was indeed for the old gentleman gave a start as he caught sight of Pons' lean, tall figure, dismissed the page-boy with a coin and hurried toward us through a sea of leather arm-chairs.