The Recollections of Solar Pons Read online

  The Recollections of Solar Pons

  First Edition Books in the Macabre Field by Basil Copper

  Non-Fiction

  THE VAMPIRE: In Legend, Fact and Art

  THE WEREWOLF: In Legend, Fact and Art

  Short Stories

  Not After Nightfall

  Here Be Daemons

  And Afterward, the Dark

  From Evil’s Pillow

  Voices of Doom

  When Footsteps Echo

  Whispers in the Night

  Fantasy Novels

  The Great White Space

  Into the Silence

  The Horror on Planet X

  Gothic Novels

  The Curse of the Fleers

  Necropolis

  The House of the Wolf

  The Black Death

  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

  #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

  THE RECOLLECTIONS OF SOLAR PONS

  BASIL COPPER

  ILLUSTRATIONS BY

  STEFANIE K. HAWKS

  Minneapolis, Minnesota 1995

  4 8 6 9 8 0 3 1

  THE RECOLLECTIONS OF SOLAR PONS

  Copyright © 1995 Basil Copper

  Illustrations Copyright © 1995 by Stefanie K. Hawks

  First Edition

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission of the author, except for brief quotations in critical articles or reviews. Address all queries to Fedogan & Bremer, 603 Washington Ave., S.E., Suite 77, Minneapolis, MN 55414-2950.

  Following the characters created by August Derleth.

  The Solar Pons stories written by Basil Copper are the only ones authorised by Arkham House Publishers Inc. by whom they were first commissioned, and by the estate of the late August Derleth.

  The novellas ‘THE ADVENTURE OF THE MAD MILLIONAIRE;” “THE ADVENTURE OF THE CURSED CURATOR;” and ‘THE ADVENTURE OF THE HOUND OF HELL” have never before been published.

  The novella ‘THE ADVENTURE OF THE SINGULAR SANDWICH,” which briefly appeared in paperback in a much bowdlerised and altered form, appears here for the first time with the definitive text.

  ISBN: 1-878252-20-8 (trade) ISBN: 1-878252-21-6 (limited)

  Book design by Felix Bremer

  an ebookman scan

  Contents

  The Recollections of Solar Pons

  Contents

  The Adventure of the Mad Millionaire

  -1- -2- -3- -4- -5- -6- -7- -8- -9- -10- -11-

  The Adventure of the Cursed Curator

  -1- -2- -3- -4- -5- -6- -7- -8- -9-

  The Adventure of the Hound Of Hell

  -1- -2- -3- -4- -5- -6- -7- -8-

  The Adventure of the Singular Sandwich

  -1- -2- -3- -4- -5-

  The end of The Recollections of Solar Pons

  For “the lost Lenore,”

  Stefanie Kate Hawks,

  Beautiful Collaborator,

  Gracious Lady,

  Superb Artist,

  With my Love and Admiration.

  Basil Copper

  St. Paul, Minn

  THE RECOLLECTIONS OF SOLAR PONS

  The Adventure of the Mad Millionaire

  The Adventure of the Mad Millionaire

  -1-

  “GOOD AFTERNOON, DOCTOR!”

  “Good afternoon, Colonel!”

  I had been enjoying an after-lunch walk in brilliant sunshine alongside the Round Pond in Kensington Gardens in perfect July weather when the robust tones of a familiar voice broke into my reverie. Though I had answered automatically and mechanically it took another split-second before I fully recognised Colonel Mortimer, a retired Army officer who was a former neighbour of mine when I lived in Chelsea for a brief period.

  Mortimer was a striking figure, well above average height with a great hooked nose above his tobacco-stained cavalry moustache. But he always dressed impeccably and this afternoon he wore a startling off-white tropical suit with a pale blue tie and carried an elegant-looking Malacca cane. He fell in alongside me as I continued along the gravel walk and we were both silent for a moment, enjoying the extraordinarily beautiful weather. After a minute or two as we continued in silence, Colonel Mortimer shot a surreptitious glance at his watch.

  “I am glad I have run into you, doctor. I have recently come across something that might well interest your friend Solar Pons. An acquaintance of mine has gone stark, raving mad.”

  “Indeed,” I said, shooting him a sharp glance. “Would you not do better to consult one of my medical colleagues who specialises in mental disorders?”

  He gave a throaty chuckle, slashing at a tangle of weeds at the edge of the Pond with the ferrule of his cane.

  “It is not that sort of madness, doctor. No, believe me, there is something deep behind it which is beyond my fathoming.”

  We had turned toward the edge of the Gardens now and the faint hum of traffic was becoming audible as it converged upon the Albert Memorial, while the great dome of the Albert Hall was rearing above the trees.

  “Have you time for tea, doctor?” Colonel Mortimer went on.

  “I have all the time in the world, Colonel,” I said.

  “In that case what say you to Harrods? I have not been there for some considerable time.”

  “As you please,” I said, though I was somewhat surprised by his choice of venue.

  Some while later, when we were settled in the coolness of the restaurant in that elegant emporium the Colonel seemed to have thought better of his earlier confidence. He mumbled awkwardly to himself over the delicious watercress sandwiches; tapped with his teaspoon irritatingly on the edge of his cup as we made short work of the scones and jam; and hummed discordantly to the obvious discomfiture of the people at the tables round about as we rapidly created inroads into the strawberries and cream.

  It was not until a second silver-plated teapot had been placed before us that he seemed to come to a decision.

  “I must ask you to forgive me, doctor. I am not usually indecisive but I really do not know if I am doing right in this matter.”

  “So I noticed,” I said unhelpfully, reaching for the last of the chocolate éclairs. “However, you have not yet committed yourself and even talking to me does not constitute a commission in the eyes of Pons.”

  “That is certainly true,” said Mortimer, not at all flatteringly in my opinion, and he fixed me with what I was wont to call his cavalryman’s glare. I have seen it freeze waiters at more than twenty yards off and it certainly had a discouraging effect on me this afternoon.

  “Oh, believe me,” the Colonel went on, “I am not breaching any confidence you may be sure. And what I am about to tell you is something which might have been observed by anyone in close proximity to Foy.”

  I stared at him across the wickerwork table which stood on the red-tiled floor in an elegant bower of roses, while the thin, reedy tones of the five-piece orchestra which played for tea-dances there, ascended to the fluted iron roof-columns.

  “You don’t mean Hugo Foy, the millionaire financier?”

  The Colonel glanced at me in slight surprise.

  “Do not tell me that you know him?”

  I shook my head.

  “Good heavens, no. I hardly move in such exalted circles.”

  The Colonel closed his lips round a portion of strawberries and cream with satisfaction. I realised that the taste was not the only cause of his state of mind; he was pleased because I had admitted that while I might not mingle with millionaires I recognised that it was a perfectly right and proper thing for him to do so. I swallowed my amusement at this irreverent thought and concentrated on what the Colonel was saying.

  “He is a near neighbour of mine at The Boltons and we are occasional partners at bridge parties together. I am merely concerned in case he might feel I was responsible for causing an unwarrantable interference in his affairs.”

  “That is something you must decide for yourself,” I said.

  I could not resist adding, with considerable self-satisfaction, “It means nothing to Pons. He is used to mixing with the

  crowned heads of Europe and mere millionaires are ten a penny in his book.”

  Colonel Mortimer swallowed a mouthful of tea the wrong way, glared at me over his cup with one eye, said “Quite” in a dead voice and snapped his mouth shut. I savoured the moment a little longer.

  “Tell me, Colonel,” I said. “Just why should you consider your friend to be mad?”

  “Acquaintance,” said the Colonel sharply. “Nothing more, I hasten to assure you.”

  He fixed me with a piercing glance.

  “What would you say to a man who rides in his motor-car naked in the moonlight; wears white drill trousers with a dark City suit; and uses a billiard cue to hole
his ball on the golf course!”

  I goggled at my companion.

  “And those are only a few examples,” Mortimer went on. He would have said more but I put up my hand.

  “There is no need to elaborate, Colonel. I think you would do better to avoid repetition by coming straight away with me to see Pons.”

  There was a certain smug satisfaction in the Colonel’s eye as we finished the meal.

  -2-

  Solar Pons put the tips of his thin fingers together, leaned back in his armchair and blew a cloud of fragrant blue smoke at the ceiling. The windows of our sitting-room at 7B Praed Street were wide open to the fragrant summer air but so hot had been the day that I could see little beads of perspiration standing out on Colonel Mortimer’s forehead as he sipped appreciatively at the ice-cold beer I had plied him with.

  It was evening now and a mauve dusk crouched at the windows, stained yellow with the flowering of the early street-lamps and window signs.

  “Mad—and yet not mad, you say,” said Pons with considerable satisfaction. “You did well to direct this little matter my way, Parker.”

  The Colonel stirred in his chair and cleared his throat nervously.

  “You appreciate, Mr. Pons, that this affair must be handled with the utmost discretion. I have not been asked to act and Foy may be extremely annoyed if he learns that I have engaged your services.”

  “Oh, indeed, Colonel,” said my friend easily. “It will do no harm to cast an eye in that direction and one need not commit oneself. But a gentleman who drives in his car stark naked, uses a billiard cue to play golf and drinks champagne with ginger beer, while remaining head of an immense financial empire, presents some intriguing facets to the world, would you not say so, Parker?”

  “Oh indeed, Pons,” I put in, unable to resist a smile at the Colonel’s worried features.

  “At the same time, Mr. Pons . . .” he began.

  “You may have no fear, Colonel,” I broke in. “Pons is the soul of tact.”

  “I am afraid that is more than I can say for you, doctor,” put in the Colonel gloweringly, which caused Pons to break into an amused chuckle.

  “If you would just hand me down that Who’s Who from the shelf yonder, Parker, I will refresh my memory with the salient facets of Mr. Hugo Foy’s career.”

  I lifted the heavy volume from the shelf and carried it over toward him. I remained standing by his chair as he ran his finger down the pages, an intent expression on his lean, feral features.

  “Ah, here we are. Yes, just as I thought. Chairman of Wildwood House Group of investment companies. Publications include: The World Economic Situation; Through the Abyss—a Guide to Current Fiscal Policy; Company Law and Procedure, etc., etc.”

  He put the volume in his lap and frowned at it.

  “Hmm. Hardly light reading, Parker. Your friend Foy does not seem the frivolous type judging by his financial career and the sort of literature he writes, Colonel.”

  “That is true, Mr. Pons,” said our visitor gloomily, inclining his head toward my companion. “The more I think about it the more ill-advised I feel my visit here.”

  “Come, Colonel, do not say so,” said Pons briskly, taking up his pipe again. “There may be method behind these outbursts of lunacy. Pray let us have the background and salient details in specific order, if you please.”

  Colonel Mortimer leaned forward in his chair and fixed my companion with troubled eyes.

  “As I have explained to the good doctor here, Mr. Pons, I am merely a bystander, an observer, who has watched this madness creeping upon an acquaintance over the past few months. I have no official standing, am not authorised to act in the matter but . . .”

  “You feel a responsibility for a fellow human being, Colonel,” Solar Pons interrupted smoothly, looking searchingly at our visitor through the wreathing columns of fragrant blue smoke which surrounded him. “These sentiments do you great credit. Let us be frank. If Hugo Foy is going mad then surely his family or staff would have called in medical advice long before now. Or do you suspect something else?”

  The Colonel shifted uneasily in his chair, licking his lips. “You are a shrewd man, Mr. Pons,” he mumbled. “You see below the surface of things. I must confess I have a vested interest in the matter, though that is not my only concern.” “You have invested some capital in Mr. Foy’s enterprises?” The Colonel nodded, unable to keep the surprise from his eyes.

  “You have read the situation correctly, Mr. Pons. The amount would not bankrupt me if I lost the money but I must confess it would severely curtail my life-style.”

  Pons was silent for a moment, his deep-set eyes gazing at Mortimer so intently that he seemed to see quite through him.

  “Would it be indiscreet to ask how much you have invested, Colonel?”

  The military figure bristled a little but the answer was forthcoming without hesitation.

  “I do not mind you and Dr. Parker knowing, Mr. Pons, as I realize it will go no farther than this room.”

  Pons gave a slight inclination of his head, his brilliant eyes remaining fixed on the Colonel.

  “A little over forty-thousand pounds, Mr. Pons.”

  “Indeed. Rather too large a sum to leave in the hands of a possibly unbalanced property tycoon, Parker.”

  “As you say, Pons.”

  My companion’s lean, febrile fingers were drumming softly on the arm of his chair as he puffed furiously at his pipe. “How was this money invested, Colonel Mortimer?”

  “Mostly in South American mining shares, Mr. Pons. I have no reason to believe there is anything wrong with them. They have an excellent reputation in the City and the share-prices remain constant, as I had occasion to confirm this morning from the Financial Times.”

  Pons nodded.

  “The investment came about in what manner?”

  “I had known Foy for some time, Mr. Pons. As I have already mentioned we are near neighbours. Curiously enough, we lived close in Chelsea some years ago. Then I moved to The Boltons and he bought a house nearby about a year ago and so we became neighbours again.”

  “Presumably the investment possibility arose over conversations at the card-table.”

  Colonel Mortimer nodded gloomily.

  “Exactly so, Mr. Pons. I had followed Foy’s brilliant career in the City, of course. Indeed, he is an international figure. So when this opportunity for investment came up last autumn, I was only too glad to get in on the ground floor, as it were.”

  “And now you are not only worried at your neighbour’s eccentricities but for the safety of your investment?”

  The Colonel bit his lip.

  “That must come into it, Mr. Pons.”

  “Naturally. Now, just how long has this bizarre behaviour been going on?”

  “Something like two to three months.”

  Solar Pons leaned back in his chair and tented his thin fingers before him.

  “Pray be precise as to circumstance and detail.”

  “Very well, Mr. Pons,” said our visitor grimly. “I will endeavour to be as accurate as possible though the whole business looks, on the face of it, like raving insanity.”

  Solar Pons nodded.

  “Exactly when did this curious behaviour begin?”

  “As near as I can make out, Mr. Pons, at the end of March this year. I can be as positive as that because I had been thrown into fairly close contact with him during the past winter, in the little matter I earlier spoke of and we had also been together at card-parties when we were partners at bridge on a number of occasions. Foy had been showing some little signs of strain.”

  Pons leaned forward and shot our visitor a penetrating glance.

  “In what way?”

  “Lack of concentration, Mr. Pons. Not only at cards but in other matters. He seemed out of sorts and on two or three occasions he made elementary mistakes at bridge which caused some comment, I can tell you.”

  “He was a good bridge player?”

  “Of the highest class, Mr. Pons. I am no mean hand at cards myself but I am not in the same league. It was a pleasure to watch a player of that calibre.”

  Solar Pons pulled reflectively at the lobe of his left ear. “Did not such behaviour strike you as even more bizarre than his apparent acts of madness?”