“It seems Mr Pons’ stratagem has proved effective, Dr Parker.”
I nodded.
“There is usually very sound method behind his even more extravagant actions, Miss Stuart. Will you join them in the library?”
“Let us both go, doctor.”
“As you wish.”
As we entered the handsome room with the mellow rays of gold pouring in from the garden outside, the study seemed like nothing more than a public library. Two gentlemen in grey suits were examining volumes on the table and talking in hushed tones. The Rev. Stokesby had the locked bookcase open and was handling a leather- bound Bible reverently. I could not see the Major for a moment but then saw him up near the French windows where Pons and I had replaced the Bible with its corrupt texts.
Miss Stuart hurried forward and was soon engaged in animated conversation with her guests. I was about to join her when there came yet another ring at the front door. This time the caller was a small, dapper gentleman, impeccably dressed in a dark suit and wearing lavender coloured gloves. He smiled amiably and searched in his pocket, as though looking for a card.
“Dear me, I seem to have forgotten them. Jethro Carpenter. Rare book dealer at your service. Would it be possible to view the collection mentioned in the advertisement?”
“By all means,” I said. “Your colleagues are already in the library.”
I led the way through and introduced the fifth man to the assembly. The room now seemed crowded and as the conversation proceeded I was able to study the other two men who had been admitted by Hannah.
One was a short, bearded man with a pronounced limp, named Judson Higgins. Though well dressed in expensive clothes and wearing white gloves, there was something sly and furtive in his appearance which I didn’t take to. He had cold grey eyes beneath his whitening eyebrows and his thick hair was liberally dusted with silver. He had a high, mincing pedantic voice and was engaged in a shrill altercation with his companion.
This was a giant with red hair and a carefully trimmed moustache. He was about thirty-five years old and very strong and vigorous. But his eyes blinked mildly beneath his thick-lensed spectacles with tortoise-shell frames and he seemed more amused than otherwise at his colleague’s comments on the quality of the books in the late Rector’s library.
The Rev. Isaac Stokesby stood near Miss Stuart up near the empty fireplace, his dark eyes regarding the scene before him in an almost contemplative manner. The Major stood the other side of our client and seemed about to say something but was unable to gain her attention.
Jethro Carpenter contented himself with inclining his head to the company and then darted swiftly forward to the bookcase at the far end of the room, which I understood contained the rare volumes. I declined to join in the conversation but, mindful of Pons’ stricture, tried to observe without appearing to take any notice.
I kept away from the bookcase near the window and as the housekeeper served coffee and biscuits to the guests an hour later, it was obvious that everyone in the room had had ample opportunity, at one time or another, to approach the Bible containing the message unobserved. The shelving was so arranged that it concealed the browser from the people standing near the fireplace; though that corner of the room was clearly in view from the French windows.
It was nearly nine o’clock before the last of the visitors had departed; no-one else had come and it was with some relief that Miss Stuart and I exchanged glances as Hannah showed the last of the bibliophiles to the door. This was the Rector and I retained an impression of his sardonic, bearded face, the beard tinted with gold with the dying sun as he hurried through the garden.
“Well. Dr Parker.” said our hostess gravely, as we re-entered the library, “I have several orders for books here and I only hope I shall be able to explain satisfactorily why they are not for sale when the would-be purchasers call again.”
“I am afraid we have put you to some inconvenience. Miss Stuart. But I am sure Solar Pons would not have suggested this arrangement without good cause.”
The girl flashed me a brief smile.
“I am certain you are right, Dr Parker. Now. I think we have earned a glass of sherry.”
She went over to pour while I unlocked and opened the French windows, letting sweet-scented air and the cheerful song of birds into the somewhat stuffy study. As I came back down the room I went to the Bible which was apparently the source of so much mystery and took it down from the shelf. I opened it and went through the slips of paper at the back. I felt a tingle of excitement as I re-examined them more thoroughly.
“Good heavens! The Bible verses are missing.”
“I should be extremely disappointed if they were not, my dear fellow.”
Solar Pons was regarding me from the open study door, his eyes bright and alert. He rubbed his slender hands together as he came over to join us. Miss Stuart poured him a glass of sherry and we moved instinctively toward the dining room.
“Dinner will be served almost immediately, gentlemen,” said our hostess. “I will not ask any further questions tonight. I hope you are hungry, as Hannah has prepared something special.”
“We must do justice to it, Parker,” said Solar Pons, his eyes twinkling over the rim of his glass. “We can do nothing till after dark but we must be in position not later than 10.30p.m.”
Miss Stuart smiled wryly.
“Well, I do not know what you propose, Mr Pons, but I drink most heartily to your success.”
We all three raised our glasses.
8
I shifted my cramped position, my muscles cracking with the unwonted movement. Solar Pons put his hands to his lips in warning.
“We must just be patient, Parker. Our man is cunning and persistent. And he is extremely dangerous. You have your pistol?”
I nodded.
“You are certain he will come, Pons?” I whispered.
“I would stake my reputation on it, Parker. He has no reason for suspicion and we now know he has his hands on the thing he most covets.”
“But will he read it aright. Pons?”
Pons smiled, glancing up at the moonlight which straggled through a stained glass window far above our heads. We crouched in the shadow of a large statuary group in the side-chapel of the church, facing the entrance. All was silent apart from the deep tick of the clock which told the passing of the hours. It was almost midnight and for the past hour the entire village of Grassington seemed to have been asleep. Not even the distant rumble of a passing motor vehicle had disturbed our vigil.
“Our man will read the message correctly, Parker. He knew what he was looking for before ever he came to The Old Rectory. It is hardly likely that he would not know the simple code employed.”
I shook my head.
“Perhaps, Pons. But I must confess I am baffled. Any of those people tonight could have been the man in question. But all of them had something suspicious about them if one read their actions a certain way.”
Pons inclined his head.
“There is something of the eccentric in every collector of whatever type, Parker. It is endemic to the breed.”
He broke off, his whole form rigid, his head forward in a listening attitude. I had heard nothing and opened my mouth to make some rejoinder when he stopped me by putting his hand on my arm. Then I heard what his sensitive ears had already caught. A faint creaking noise from somewhere far off in the church. It ceased and the silence resumed.
Pons moved over and put his mouth up against my ear.
“He has entered through a side door, Parker. An artist with a jemmy, evidently.”