“I don’t understand, Pons.”
“Naturally,” my companion went on, as though I had not spoken. “Such a fire is almost impossible to stop once started.
You wished to see me, Mrs Bracegirdle?”
I started and looked back over my shoulder. The housekeeper stood in the shadows near the doorway and I had not heard her come in. Now she advanced toward us with a strange, almost furtive expression on her face.
“The fog is thickening, Mr Pons. I am naturally a little worried about Mr Balfour, sir. I wondered whether you gentlemen mightn’t join him at the estate office.”
The interest on Pons’ face quickened.
“You fear something, Mrs Bracegirdle?”
The housekeeper hesitated.
“I am obviously concerned, sir. I hope you did not mind me mentioning it.”
“You think this thing will appear again?” I asked.
The housekeeper licked her lips, turning to me.
“It is possible, sir. I do not know what to expect now. These strange Indians. ”
“I have been to see Mr Dass,” said Solar Pons crisply. “And I have formed an opinion on the matter. I also think that Mr Balfour has little to fear during the daylight hours, particularly in the busy atmosphere of the estate.”
He looked at Mrs Bracegirdle curiously.
“Tell me a little more about that night old Mr Boldigrew died.”
Mrs Bracegirdle clasped her hands together in front of her and looked at Solar Pons sharply.
“I have already told everything I know, Mr Pons.”
“It would not hurt to tell it again,” said my companion gently. “Sometimes small details get overlooked.”
The woman hesitated, her eyes never leaving Pons’ face.
“There was something, sir, the night Mr Boldigrew died. It was so trivial I never mentioned it.”
“It is the trivial which often has the greatest significance,” said Pons, tenting his fingers before him.
“Well, sir, it was something I did merely for form’s sake.” “And what was that, Mrs Bracegirdle?”
“It was at that dreadful moment when Mr Boldigrew died, Mr Pons. Mr Balfour rushed outside and I was left alone with the dying man for a minute or two. I raised him up and tried to give him air. It was then I noticed a thin trickle of blood on his neck.”
“Indeed.”
It seemed to have grown very quiet in the room and the crackling of the fire came to me unnaturally loud. Solar Pons ejected a plume of blue smoke from his mouth.
“To what did you attribute this bleeding, Mrs Bracegirdle.”
“I did not pay it much attention, Mr Pons. I thought my employer may have injured himself in falling or he may have cut himself in shaving that morning. The cut was low down, near his collar, you see. So I got my handkerchief and cleaned his neck, to tidy him up before the doctor came.”
“You did not tell Mr Balfour or the doctor of this?”
The housekeeper shook her head with a worried expression in her eyes.
“It did not seem important, Mr Pons. But thinking back and knowing what a wonderful way you have of reading things in tiny details I felt I ought to mention it.”
“You have acted wisely,” said Solar Pons slowly. “And no blame attaches to you. It may be of no importance but it has given me an inkling of the truth where all was dark before.”
The housekeeper shook her head.
“The whole of Tidewater seems to be going mad, Mr Pons. Not only this new tragedy of Mr Sainsbury but in so many little things.”
“In what way, pray?”
“Mrs Mackney’s boy, for example. Johnnie is such a truthful lad and I believed him though his mother was angry as she thought he had lost them. The pistol especially was expensive too.”
“I am afraid I do not follow, Mrs. Bracegirdle,” I mumbled. Pons shot me an amused glance and Mrs Bracegirdle flushed.
“I am not telling it very well, Mr Pons, I know. Mrs Mackney is an acquaintance of mine, who sometimes visits here. She was telling me some weeks ago of Johnnie’s untruthfulness. He told her his carnival mask had been stolen. And then when his expensive air pistol disappeared, she lost her temper. She was of the opinion the boy was lying, and that he had lost them.”
“Thank you, Mrs Bracegirdle!”
I was astonished at Pons’ reaction. He hit his thigh with the flat of his hand, making a cracking noise like a gunshot and his eyes were alight with excitement.
“You say this was some weeks ago? Before Mr Boldigrew’s death?”
“Oh, yes, Mr Pons.”
“And the boy never found the mask or the air pistol?”
“No, Mr Pons.”
“And these rather strangely assorted articles disappeared on the same occasion or on two separate occasions?”
“On two different occasions, Mr Pons, to the best of my recollection.”
“Excellent. Now, where could the boy have lost them?”
“He swore they were stolen while he was playing, Mr Pons, but his mother wouldn’t believe him.”
“Does Mrs Mackney work for a living?”
“Yes, Mr Pons. She does some cleaning work about the village. In shops and at the homes of professional gentlemen.” “Including Mr Sainsbury?”
“Why, yes, Mr Pons. So I suppose Johnnie could have lost his toys anywhere.”
“Exactly.”
Solar Pons was silent for a moment, his fingers pulling at the lobe of his left ear, often his habit when thinking. Presently he looked up.
“Thank you, Mrs Bracegirdle. You have given me a good deal to think about. I think we will join Balfour at the estate office, Parker. I have the germ of an idea.”
9
“Must you go, gentlemen?”
There was dismay on Michael Balfour’s face.
“It is only for a day or so, Mr Balfour. I have urgent business in London that cannot be put off, I am afraid. And Dr Parker must arrange for a fresh locum.”
“I quite understand, Mr Pons, but it is naturally a disappointment.”
It was dusk now and lights from the farm buildings round about pricked the darkness through the windows of the estate office.
“This business is taking longer than you thought, Pons.” Solar Pons nodded.
“It is a question of catching our man off guard, Mr Balfour. Which is why I want you to be careful and adhere strictly to my instructions when we are gone.”
“I will do that all right, Mr Pons.”
The smoke from my companion’s pipe rose in a thin spiral to the ceiling as he gazed almost dreamily out of the window. There came a tapping at the door and Stevens the gardener poked his head in.
“You wished to see me, Mr Balfour?”
“Yes, Stevens. You are going home shortly I suppose? I wondered if you would be good enough to take the pony and trap in with you and deposit Mr Pons and Dr Parker at the station. You can leave the equipage at the livery stables overnight and that will be your transport back in the morning.”
“Delighted, gentlemen.”
The gardener’s face was frankly curious.
“Not leaving the district, sir?”
“For a few days only. I have to be back in London on urgent business.”
“I will just harness the trap, sir, and will be at your disposal in a quarter of an hour.”
“Bring it to the front door of the house, would you. Dr Parker and I will just have time to throw a few things into a holdall.”
Stevens saluted and closed the door.
A few moments later we waited in the bitter air while Balfour locked the estate office behind him. We walked across the courtyard in the gathering dusk, thin wisps of mist already eddying eerily in the distant trees and blurring the outlines of the surrounding countryside.
“Lock your doors this evening and follow my instructions implicitly,” said Pons as we stood in the hall waiting for our conductor.