Pons got up and paced about as though impelled by the darting quicksilver of his thoughts.
“I am asking you to take a good deal on trust tonight, Miss Stuart, but I have no doubt at all that everything I am telling you is true in all but the most trivial detail.”
“But how on earth did you know the late Rector’s brother was involved, Pons?” I asked.
Solar Pons shook his head.
“It was the merest suspicion at first, Parker. It arose from a remark of Miss Stuart’s regarding a quarrel between the brothers. I could not put a date to it at this distance in time but I became more and more convinced that the breach between the two men came about at the time of the Cresswell Manor affair. Jamison was invaluable here. He said that a convict named Jeremy Stuart had been suspected of the Manor robbery but the police had never been able to prove anything.
“It was while robbing a country house after leaving Grassington that he was caught by the police and sentenced to prison. The Governor at Dartmoor also mentioned Stuart and as I went over the chain of events and the dates, everything fitted. There was no doubt that Stuart for his part had kept his relationship with the Rector at Grassington a secret.”
“In order that he could come back and collect the stolen property, Pons?”
“Naturally. Parker. And just in case anything went wrong he left a clue to its location on a slip of paper in the old Bible in the study here. He undoubtedly read that Sir Roger had been killed and buried in France and realised the vault had never been opened.”
Pons again pulled out the sheet with the enigmatic verses and passed them across to Miss Stuart and the Rector. He briefly enumerated the code and pointed out the message he had deciphered.
“All this explains the painful events on that night two years ago when your father met his death. Miss Stuart. We are unlikely to know now the precise reason Stuart came back. He had escaped from Dartmoor and was at liberty for several months. He may have returned to Grassington for the hidden valuables; more likely to take refuge with the brother he hoped would not refuse him the Christian charity he had always found.”
Miss Stuart gazed at Pons, her lower lip trembling.
“That was why Daddy…?” she began.
“A heart attack through shock,” Pons said quietly. “I cannot prove it but I am certain your father was near the window and had actually picked up that very Bible, all unconscious of the message hidden within it. The shock of seeing his brother, an escaped convict, at the window was too much for him. Not only that but the disgrace his wife and daughter would have to face if the scandal ever came out. He had forbidden his brother ever to set foot in the house again and here he was. probably with the police hot at his heels. His heart was weak and he collapsed and died. The expression on his face, which you described so graphically, Miss Stuart, is common in cases of sudden death from heart failure, as you have already indicated, Parker.”
“Just so, Pons. But how do you arrive at this conclusion?”
“With the aid of friend Jamison. Prompted by me he did some research in the criminal records. The Dartmoor escape of Stuart took place just two days before the Rector died under such tragic circumstances. And brother Bancroft and the present Governor of Dartmoor have been most helpful. Stuart was recaptured some time afterwards, in the London area, and returned to the Moor.”
“But what has all this to do with the man, Munro Slater, Pons?”
“I am coming to that, Parker, if you will give me time.” returned Pons reprovingly.
He turned back to our client.
“So here we have a rascally brother: stolen money hidden in the church of a devout and admirable Rector; the good brother unfortunately dead: a set of clues to the location of the Cresswell Manor haul hidden in the Bible in the study; and a complete stranger searching for it. What does that suggest to you, Parker?”
I pondered for a moment, my eyes on the ceiling.
“Why, that Jeremy Stuart could not come himself, Pons.”
Solar Pons chuckled.
“Excellent, Parker. You constantly astonish me and are becoming a credit to my training.”
He ticked off points on his fingers.
“Let us just recapitulate briefly. The bearded intruder who haunted The Old Rectory had one interest only, the library. He appeared to favour only one portion of the library shelving. That led us to the Bible with its hidden message. I immediately seized on the simple code which led us to the church and to the hidden valuables. They bore the arms of the Cresswells. The newspaper account gave us the details of the robbery, the date and so forth. A call to Bancroft and Jamison furnished me with all the background information. You have said just now that Jeremy Stuart could not come for the money himself, Parker. He is dead, unfortunately, or perhaps, in view of the distress he caused Miss Stuart’s family, fortunately would be a more appropriate term.”
There was a deep silence. I stared at Solar Pons, taking in the lean, alert features and the sparkle in his eyes.
“He died in prison, Pons?”
Solar Pons nodded.
“Exactly. Parker. In Dartmoor a year ago. But before he died in the prison infirmary he imparted his secret to another member of the gang, Munro Slater.”
“I see, Pons. And Munro Slater has only just been released from prison.”
“Not quite, Parker. Last winter. But the manifestations at The Old Rectory began just a few weeks after his release.”
“This is remarkable, Mr Pons,” put in the Rev. Stokesby. His face wore an expression of amiability, the first I had seen since we had made his acquaintance.
“But why did Stuart simply not tell Slater where the material was buried. Pons?”
Solar Pons shook his head.
“Stuart had had a stroke. He might well have recovered. He was cunning to the end. Besides, there was a nurse at the bedside. He was able only to articulate to his companion in crime the address and the fact that he must look in a Bible in the study. I had that from Slater himself at the police station. He has decided to confess everything.”
“But there had been no strangers in the vicinity. Pons?” I objected. “Particularly men with beards.”
Solar Pons held up his hand.
“I would not have expected there to be, Parker. The beard was an obvious disguise. There remained the scar on the thumb as described by Miss Stuart but that could easily have been hidden in a number of ways; by gloves, a bandage or even as our man masquerading as a workman, with his hand smeared with paint. I had to look elsewhere. You may remember I showed interest in gypsy bands in the neighbourhood. I had a most illuminating walk in the district yesterday. Two of the camps were occupied by genuine Romanies. I discounted them immediately.”
I looked at Pons with a puzzled expression.
“Why so. Pons?”
“For the simple reason that the world of the real Romany is the most exclusive and hermetically sealed there is. No-one in those circles would admit a stranger to their midst. My attention was immediately drawn to the only remaining encampment in the area, that occupied by travellers, tinkers and other itinerants. A little money soon obtained me the information I needed. I met one of the scrap-dealers along the road. He told me of a man who had come among them some months earlier and who paid rent for an empty caravan. His food was fetched from the village and he seldom went out. I realised I should have to provide some bait to bring him to my hook and drafted the advertisement for the newspaper, with the result we have seen.”