“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-paralysed 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 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 was 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 sceptical.
“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.”
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.
“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. How are you placed. Parker?”
I rose to my feet.
“My locum owes me a favour 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 believe 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 no. 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, shovelling blue, aromatic smoke from his pipe back over his shoulder, his eyes focused on the huddle of roofs which lay ahead over the patient back of the glistening roan in the shafts.