“I ran in, conscious of wind and flapping curtains. A great shadow seemed to sweep across the room. I put on the electric light and was startled to see that the French window was open and banging in the wind. I secured it and drew the curtains. It was only then that I became aware that some books, tumbled possibly by the wind, were lying on the carpet. I replaced them on the shelves and tidied up.”
Solar Pons had sat intent during this recital, his eyes never leaving Miss Stuart’s face.
“You saw no-one, Miss Stuart?”
The girl shook her head.
“Not on this occasion, Mr Pons. But from the latter incidents, it now seems evident that someone had slipped the catch of the study window. I thought at the time that it had been left unsecured.”
“I see. Pray continue.”
“Well, Mr Pons, I thought little of the incident at the time. Two days passed and again I was reading in the parlour. It had been dark for an hour or so and I had reached the end of my book and decided to seek another from the library in the study. As I neared the door, however, I heard the same tapping as on the previous occasion. I refrained from switching on the light and walked into the room. Then there was a scratching noise from the direction of the window.
“It had a thick curtain over it, Mr Pons. I walked across and pulled back the curtain. There was just enough light for me to see a hideous hand pressed against the glass. It was something I shall never forget. Mr Pons. This misshapen hand with a white scar on the thumb, furtively trying to force the window in the night.”
There was an awkward silence as our client broke off. Solar Pons leaned forward in his chair, a sympathetic expression on his face.
“As I said, you have obviously been through a great deal, Miss Stuart. Such an experience would have been enough to unnerve anyone. You summoned the police, of course?”
The girl nodded.
“Naturally, Mr Pons. The cry I made obviously startled the man trying to break into the house because the hand was immediately withdrawn. Our local police Sergeant was soon around and he and a constable searched the grounds and churchyard but nothing was found.”
“There was no footprint or trace outside the window?”
Miss Stuart shook her head.
“There is a flagged terrace outside the French window, Mr Pons, which would have retained no imprint. Both my mother and I were upset and shaken by the occurrence and I then remembered the earlier incident. The Sergeant felt it might have been a passing vagrant, though he gave me the impression he thought me merely a fanciful woman. When you see the house, Mr Pons, as I hope you will, you will realise it is rather gloomy.”
“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 gained 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 sombrely.
“I realise 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 in 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 crestfallen.”
“Hmm.”
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 regarded 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 heatwave 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 Hannah’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.