The Uncollected Cases of Solar Pons Page 2

  "Quite so, Miss Stuart. The police discovered nothing, then?"

  "The sergeant had inquiries made but there was no trace of the man with the scarred thumb. More than a month had passed and though I had not forgotten the incident, it had faded a little from my mind when something else happened. It was late January and I was coming back from the village where I had been shopping. I had entered the garden and was about to put the key in the front door when I heard a scream from the direction of my mother’s room.

  "I rushed upstairs and found my mother in a state of collapse. She had been in her bedroom and had gone to her window, which was uncurtained. There was a great deal of light shining from the kitchen window below which fell across the flagged area of the garden. Standing four-square in the light below her was an evil-looking man with a beard. My mother said he turned his eyes up toward her as she looked out and she had seldom seen such malevolence on a human face. In fact she said it was more like a wild beast than a human being."

  Solar Pons tented his fingers in front of him and leaned forward in his chair.

  "So this man would have been in the garden at about the same time you were putting your key in the front door?"

  "It would seem so, Mr. Pons. I telephoned the police, put on the porch light and rushed out into the garden with one of my father’s walking sticks, but could see nothing."

  "That was extremely brave but very unwise," said Solar Pons somberly.

  "I realize it now, but I was so indignant on my mother's behalf at the time, Mr. Pons," said our fair visitor. "Another search was made; again it resulted in nothing. I was beginning to have a feeling of persecution by this time. Why should this creature be hanging about our house and what could he hope to achieve by breaking in? We are not rich and there are many more imposing houses in the district. Though my mother and father collected some nice pieces of china and silver, there is little at The Old Rectory to attract a thief and my father was certainly not rich in monetary terms."

  "Pray compose yourself, Miss Stuart," said Pons soothingly. "This is what I hope to find out."

  "Then you will take the case, Mr. Pons?"

  "By all means, Miss Stuart, though I would prefer you to repeat the story to its end in order that Dr. Parker should be fully au fait with the circumstances."

  "Certainly, Mr. Pons," the fair girl said, a flush on her cheeks, looking quickly at me.

  "Nothing else happened until about mid-April. Again, it was dusk. I had been for a walk across the heathland, which has very pretty views. I came up the garden path, but walking on the strip of lawn alongside. It was nearly eight o'clock and a beautiful evening and I suppose I did not want to break the spell by making a noise.

  "There was only the sound of a few birds going to their nests and a trace of light still lingered in the sky. I was up near the front door when my spaniel, who had been with me, suddenly barked. At the same moment the door of an old garden shed we have, up near the kitchen entrance, opened, blocking the view along the flagstone walk. Someone went away, walking very quickly in the dusk. By the time I got to the shed there was only a vague shadow going through the gate to the churchyard. The dog rushed off barking excitedly, but returned in a very short while, looking crest-fallen."

  Solar Pons sat pulling the lobe of his right ear with his right hand as he frequently did when concentrating.

  "You looked in the shed?"

  "I did, Mr. Pons. There was nothing of any significance, that I could see. An old box had been pulled out, undoubtedly for someone to sit on. It crossed my mind that someone had been keeping observation on the house through a crack in the door, waiting until dark."

  "An exceedingly unpleasant business!" I said, unable to contain myself any longer.

  "I am inclined to agree with you, my dear Parker," said Solar Pons, frowning at Miss Stuart. "Once again, you displayed commendable courage. Did you inform the police on this occasion?"

  Our visitor shook her head.

  "I am afraid I did not, Mr. Pons. I have little faith in them by now, and they already regard me as a fanciful and over-nervous female. It did not seem likely to me that they would be any more successful in tracing the man than on the previous occasions. But I made sure the doors and windows were securely bolted and barred whenever we retired for the night. I did not mention the matter to my mother either, as she had already suffered considerable fright."

  Pons consulted the sheet of paper in his hand.

  "That brings us to two nights ago, Miss Stuart."

  "It has been a heat wave the past two weeks, as you know, Mr. Pons. The day had been sweltering and all the doors and windows into the garden had been left open. Mother took the dog out for a walk and to visit friends on Saturday night. It was Hannan's day off and I was alone in the house.

  "I sat in the study reading, curled up in a big wing chair. Dusk came on and the light faded. I stopped my reading but sat on in the chair without the light. It was such a beautiful evening. There was no sound but the faint rustle of the breeze, bringing with it the perfume of flowers from the garden.

  "I was still sitting there, half drowsing in the dusk and the silence, when I heard a faint rustling noise. Something made me behave with caution. I slowly turned in my chair and peeped over the back. I was sitting in shadow and in any case could not have been seen because the chair is a big, high-backed one. Someone was in the room with me, Mr. Pons.

  "I shall never forget it to my dying day. The person was standing behind one of the bookcases up toward the French windows, carefully searching through the shelves, because I could hear the furtive sound of books being taken from and replaced upon them. Then, as I looked more closely, half-paralyzed with fright, something white caught my eye. The man was evidently reading something, holding the book with his left hand. With his right he supported himself by holding on to the edge of the shelf facing me. Mr. Pons, the patch of white was the same misshapen hand with the scar upon the thumb!”

  3

  "Great heavens!" I could not help ejaculating. "What did you do?"

  "Screamed, of course," said our visitor with commendable frankness. "Screamed with all my might, gentlemen. There was a bang, as though a heap of books had fallen to the floor and a man came scrambling out from behind the shelving, into the light. He was so agitated he collided with the edge of the French doors. He turned his head quickly back over his shoulder. It was a bearded face, all seamed and lined with evil passions, Mr. Pons. The yellow eyes glared with hatred and he hissed something back at me as I jumped up from the chair and rushed to the light-switch. Then the creature was gone and there was nothing but the scratching echo of footsteps down the flagged path and the squeak of the garden gate. Of course, I ran out into the sanity of the street but there was nothing there. It is just as though The Old Rectory is haunted, gentlemen."

  A long silence was broken at length by Pons.

  "It is a remarkable story, Miss Stuart, and it presents a number of features of outstanding interest, as well as a line of reasoning I am inclined to follow. From what you tell me in your letter, you did not call the police on this occasion either?"

  Miss Stuart's eyes were skeptical.

  "Certainly, not, Mr. Pons. I took some advice from a friend in legal practice in the village. I did not, of course, tell him the facts I have just outlined to you. But he immediately advised me to enlist your aid."

  "You have done wisely, Miss Stuart."

  Pons rose from his seat and paced up and down the room, his empty pipe in his mouth.

  "You have no idea what this person could have wanted in your father’s study?"

  "No idea, Mr. Pons. I cleared up the fallen books before Mother came home. I did not wish to alarm her again. She has gone on a short holiday this week, which was why I suggested a meeting today."

  "You examined the books before you replaced them on the shelves?"

  "Certainly, Mr. Pons. They were of no importance. Merely old parish records and the like."

  "I see."
r />   Solar Pons seated himself again opposite our client. "What is your reading of this affair, Miss Stuart?"

  The young woman, who was obviously now more at ease in our company, put down her empty cup.

  "A bibliophile, perhaps, who is out to steal what he can. There are some quite valuable books belonging to Father, and the French windows are the most obvious access from the churchyard side of the garden."

  Solar Pons shook his head.

  "I think not, Miss Stuart. A bibliophile, even one with criminal tendencies, would hardly behave in such a manner. There is something far deeper involved here. What say you, Parker?"

  "Undoubtedly, Pons," said I. "Though I cannot think what at the present moment."

  Solar Pons smiled thinly.

  "It is a wise man, Parker, who refrains from committing himself at such an early stage of the game. Are you free to accompany me to Surrey? You have no objections to Dr. Parker accompanying us, Miss Stuart?"

  "Good heavens, no, Mr. Pons. I should be delighted. Mother is away, as I have said, and Father's old room is always empty. There will be plenty of space for you both, if you do not mind simple cooking."

  Solar Pons smiled warmly across at me.

  "I can assure you we are not in the least fastidious, Miss Stuart. Can you make arrangements, Parker?"

  I rose to my feet.

  "My locum awes me a favor or two, Pons. I have no doubt he will be agreeable to taking over for a further day or so."

  Solar Pons rubbed his hands together with enthusiasm. "Excellent! That is settled, then. If you will give us an hour, Miss Stuart, we will be entirely at your service."

  "I am most grateful, Mr. Pons. There is a train just before five o'clock, if that will suit."

  She hesitated a moment and then went on, almost shyly.

  "If only you knew what your coming means to my mother and myself, Mr. Pons. It is almost as though a ghost is hovering over the house."

  Pons smiled sympathetically and put his hand on the young lady's arm.

  "You must not impute too great a power to me, Miss Stuart. My friend Parker is apt to let his enthusiasm run away with him when chronicling my modest adventures. And we may draw a blank."

  The girl shook her head.

  "I do not think so, Mr. Pons."

  Solar Pons' eyes were fixed unwinkingly upon her.

  "You think this man will come back again, Miss Stuart?"

  Our client lowered her eyes.

  "I feel certain of it, Mr. Pons."

  "And yet earlier you felt a casual intruder might have been involved. That does not sit with my reading of the situation."

  Miss Stuart looked temporarily embarrassed.

  "I do not really know what to think, Mr. Pons. Sometimes I feel the strain will be too much for me altogether. You see, Mr. Pons, my mother has been far from well since my father's death. I have had to hide my deepest feelings from her. If she really knew what I suspected she would be close to collapse."

  Solar Pons nodded.

  "Do not distress yourself, Miss Stuart. I understand. You have to pretend to your parent that nothing sinister is involved. Yet you really feel there is a deeper motive behind it all."

  The young woman smiled gratefully.

  "That is it exactly, Mr. Pons."

  Solar Pons rubbed his thin fingers briskly together and looked at me approvingly.

  "Well, Parker, I fancy we are a match for any intruder, tramp or not. And just bring along your revolver if you will be so good."

  He chuckled as he turned back to our client.

  "The sight of Parker's stern features over the muzzle of that weapon is a great pacifier of the baser passions, Miss Stuart."

  Within the hour we were on our way to Surrey, and Pons sat silent, his sharp, clear-minted features silhouetted against the smiling countryside, which flitted past the carriage windows in the golden evening sunshine. We alighted at a small, white-painted country station where a pony and trap was evidently awaiting our arrival and, having stowed our overnight bags, we were soon clattering through the undulating terrain which was permeated with the clean scent of pines.

  The tall, taciturn driver did not say a word the whole journey after his grunted greeting to Miss Stuart and we were almost at our destination before our client herself broke silence.

  "We are just coming to the village of Grassington, Mr. Pons. We live some way from Haslemere, as you see."

  "Indeed, Miss Stuart," said Pons, shoveling blue, aromatic smoke from his pipe back over his shoulder, his eyes focused on the huddle of roofs that lay ahead over the patient back of the glistening roan in the shafts.

  "It would be harder to imagine a more delightful spot."

  It was, as my companion had indicated, like something out of a picture postcard. A small, timbered High Street, the houses ancient and beamed; a huddle of shops; an ancient square sleeping in the sunshine; contented villagers strolling in the early evening air; and the tower of the ancient Norman church dominating it all. We rattled briskly down the main street, passing a handsome tile-hung inn with its gilded sign of the maypole and turned into a narrow side-street, the horse evidently knowing the way without the driver's signaled instructions on the reins.

  The Old Rectory turned out to be a handsome, rambling, tile-hung edifice, of L-shaped construction, set back from the wall of the old graveyard in a large and charming garden that was shadowed by old and massive trees, which kept much of the light and air from it.

  As we drew up in front of the white-painted front gate, which bore the name of the house in black curlicue script, I saw that in winter the house would have a melancholy aspect, not only from the trees but from the churchyard, whose lugubrious marble images of angels and cherubs stared mournfully over the low, lichen-encrusted wall.

  "Come along, gentlemen!" said Miss Stuart, her spirits quite restored as she led the way up the flagged path while the pony clopped its way around to a stable at the rear of the premises. The white-painted front door was already being opened by a cheerful, middle-aged woman with her hair scraped back in a bun.

  "This is Hannah, our housekeeper and very good friend," our client explained. "This is Mr. Solar Pons and Dr. Lyndon Parker, who will be staying with us for a few days."

  "Delighted to meet you, gentlemen," said Hannah shyly, extending her hand to Pons and then to me. "I am sure that I will do my best to make you comfortable."

  Solar Pons smiled, looking around approvingly at the light and comfortably appointed tiled hall into which we had been ushered.

  "You will not find us fastidious, Hannah, I can assure you."

  "No, certainly not," I added, aware of Miss Stuart's smiling face turned toward me. She seemed to have recovered her spirits greatly.

  "Tell me, Hannah," Solar Pons continued. "Miss Stuart has told me something of the troubles you have been undergoing the past few months. What is your reading of the situation?"

  "Well, sir," said the housekeeper hesitantly, glancing at her mistress as though for tacit approval. "It is not really my place to give an opinion, but there is something strange and sinister about it. I know Miss Stuart will forgive me, but why should the same man—and it is the same man by all accounts—return again and again to this house to commit mischief. It isn't natural. And I will swear on the Bible that he is no common burglar."

  Pons nodded significantly, glancing from the housekeeper to Miss Stuart.

  "Well said, Hannah. That is exactly my opinion and I am glad to have it confirmed by one so obviously sensible and level-headed as yourself. If you can remember anything specific about these events, which you feel might assist me. I should be glad of any confidence you might care to make."

  "Certainly, sir," said Hannah, taking our cases and retreating up the wide staircase with them. "And I am so glad that you could come."

  Pons remained staring after her for a moment, then Miss Stuart led the way througn into a long drawing room, whose windows, open to the garden and the drowsy hum of bees in the la
te afternoon, spilled golden stencils of light across the carpet.

  "We will take tea immediately, gentlemen, if you wish. And then I presume you would like to examine the study, Mr. Pons."

  Solar Pons sat down and tented his thin fingers before him, his eyes raking the room.

  "By all means, Miss Stuart. And then I have a fancy to take a stroll about the church before dark."

  Our client, who sat by the empty fireplace, which was filled with a great bowl of scarlet roses, smiled. She patted the small, bright-eyed spaniel which had wandered in from the garden.

  "Anything you wish, Mr. Pons."

  Solar Pons leaned forward as the housekeeper reappeared with a tea cart.

  "Please do not raise your hopes too high, Miss Stuart. Nothing may happen while we are here. But I will do my best."

  "You are being too modest, Pons," I said. "I am sure you will soon have the answer to these baffling events." "As always, you do me too much honor, Parker."

  And he said nothing more until we had finished our tea.

  4

  Afterward, Miss Stuart conducted us to a large, handsome room on the ground floor, whose French windows opened onto the flagged terrace of which she had already spoken.

  "This is the study, Mr. Pons," she said nervously.

  My companion nodded.

  "Where all these alarming things happened, Miss Stuart. Well, perhaps now we are on the ground we shall make sense where all has seemed opaque hitherto."

  "Let us hope so, Mr. Pons."

  Solar Pons looked around keenly, his eyes running over the serried ranks of musty ecclesiastical volumes, many in leather bindings, which ranged across from floor to ceiling. In the corner was the tall leather wing chair in which our client had sat on the fateful evening she had heard the intruder furtively rummaging among the books. But tonight, in this beautiful June weather, the library was a pleasant, placid place, with the mellow sunlight coming in through the open French windows and bringing with it the scent of roses.