Solar Pons fixed his deep-set eyes upon his client.
“I am only sorry I had to use you as a tethered-goat in the outcome, Mr Balfour. My case rested upon pure theory and needed the corroborative factor that only the circumstance of catching the culprit in the act could give.”
“But supposing the dart had been discovered?” I said. “Or it had fallen to the carpet? Surely the police might have suspected Sherlock.”
Solar Pons shook his head.
“Hardly the police doctor, Parker. He had Ram Dass picked out as a ready suspect for that. As we know, he was not liked in the neighbourhood and you yourself drew attention to the blow-pipes and other weapons on his walls.”
“But I am still puzzled about one or two things.”
“For example?”
“The appearance of the apparition to Stevens, the gardener.”
“That was entirely fortuitous, Parker. Sherlock was obviously on his way to make an attempt on Boldigrew’s life but his accidental encounter with the old man frightened him. In the event he did not make his second, and fatal attempt, until the following week.”
“But why did he appear in that strange way to Mr Balfour, on the first occasion, Pons?”
Solar Pons smiled wryly.
“Ah, that can only be conjecture now, Parker. He would not have been attempting to frighten Mr Balfour. He had already established his reign of terror and after his mishap with Stevens he had become more cautious. It is my contention that he was merely peering into the room, trying to make sure whether Mr Balfour was alone and carrying on with his uncle’s habits. I understand from Mrs Bracegirdle that the elder man’s eyesight was not so good. At any event Mr Balfour immediately spotted him and frightened him off, thereby saving his own life, for the upshot was that he came to us.”
“But why was he wearing that horrific mask, Pons?”
“For the simple reason, my dear fellow, that it would disguise him. He could not simply appear at the study window in his own persona at that stage. But as soon as we appeared on the scene he realised he had to act quickly.”
“That still does not explain why he tapped on the window that last time, Pons. He could not be sure that Mr Balfour would behave in the same manner as his uncle.”
“That is undoubtedly true, Parker. But no-one would be afraid of Dr Sherlock. This he banked on.”
Young Balfour smiled grimly.
“That is perfectly correct, doctor. When he tapped at the window he wore no mask. I was surprised to see him there but not at all suspicious. I thought perhaps you had sent a message by him. It was only when he disappeared while I was raising the window that the truth dawned upon me. Then Dr Parker’s shot sounded.”
“I must apologise to Dr Parker for our little deception, but he is so transparently honest and secrecy as to our true intentions was so essential that I did not take him into my confidence.”
“Which is why you put it about that you were leaving Tidewater,” said Balfour. “I understand now. But I was in no danger, Mr Pons. I followed your instructions implicitly. Though shocked and appalled by the sight of that dreadful face I realised you would not be far away. I was already ducking and closing the window as he raised the pistol.”
“Nevertheless, Pons,” I said. “Mr Balfour showed considerable courage. And you have brilliantly handled the case.” Solar Pons shook his head.
“I fear it will not go down in your annals as one of my more sparkling efforts, Parker. The affair has been conducted in a mental as well as physical fog.”
“Nobody in this room but yourself would agree, Mr Pons,” said young Balfour with an open smile.
“It has been a lesson, Mr Pons,” said Inspector Cunliffe. “An honour to work with you, sir.”
He shifted awkwardly and cleared his throat.
“I have no doubt that your reconstruction of events is substantially correct, Mr Pons. We have already found damning evidence at Dr Sherlock’s home. The remains of a green carnival mask in a locked cupboard; more of those darts for the air-pistol; and a certified copy of Mr Boldigrew’s will, discovered only this morning, and which corroborates our own information from Somerset House. I have seldom met a more fiendish set of circumstances involving murder. And in the end suicide was the only way out.”
“You may well say so,” said Pons grimly. “And it is to your own credit that you stayed on the spot, when less keen-witted officers would have returned to Colchester. Which is no doubt why you had Mr Boldigrew’s inquest adjourned without a verdict being returned. Both Parker and I were puzzled why no cause of death was given. You immediately seized on the salient points; realised that the set of events involving the so-called phantom face had significance far beyond their surface appearance; and waited for further developments. Instinct is a major factor in the process of crime detection, my dear Inspector, and you have it in high degree.”
Inspector Cunliffe flushed with pleasure.
“It is very kind of you to say so, Mr Pons. A word from you to that effect in the ear of my superiors would not come amiss.”
“You may rely upon it,” said Solar Pons gravely.
Then, turning to me, “If you would be so kind as to pass me the sugar, my dear Parker, we must see about getting back to London. Without disrespect to our host I think we have both had enough of Essex for the time being.”
And he drank his coffee with great contentment.
Death at the Metropole
1
“A fine morning, Parker!”
My friend Solar Pons walked into our cosy sitting-room at 7B Praed Street early one day in April to find me already at breakfast. It was indeed a fine morning and the sun was so warm and shining so brightly that I had been lulled into thinking it summer, even to the extent of slightly raising our sitting-room windows to allow the air to penetrate. I gave him a piercing glance.
“You look as if you have been up all night, Pons.”
“I have indeed, Parker. A somewhat wearying affair down Greenwich way but I think I have brought it to a successful conclusion.”
“I am glad to hear you say so, Pons. I will just ring for Mrs Johnson and ask her to bring you some eggs and bacon.”
“Pray do not put yourself out, Parker. I have already seen our amiable landlady on my way in and she has my requirements in hand.”
I sank back into my chair again and reached for the silver-plated coffee-pot.
“You have had a disturbed night yourself, I see.”
“Eigh?”
I looked at Pons, somewhat startled.
“You were called out and returned only within the hour.”
I turned astonished eyes to the smiling face of my companion.
“How can you possibly know that, Pons, unless you saw me come in?”
My companion shook his head.
“It is not so very difficult to deduce, Parker. When I see a meticulous gentleman of sober habit sitting at breakfast unshaven, yet fully dressed but with his tie tied lining outwards and quite awry, the chain of events becomes obvious. Ergo, you were called in the middle of the night, rose hastily, dressed with extreme speed and went out. When you came back it was too late to go to bed. You have not yet shaved but sat down straight away to breakfast. Therefore, you have returned within the hour.”
“Accurate in every detail, Pons,” said I. “As always the matter is simple once you have pointed it out. I was called at three. It was old Mr Stedman. He had another heart attack. I dealt with him, called an ambulance from a public phone box, got him into hospital, saw the crisis past and have returned here within the past half-hour.”