Solar Pons chuckled, sinking down in the chair opposite me.
“Admirable, my dear fellow. I fancy we have both been assisting our fellow man, each in his own way, during the past night. Ah, here is Mrs Johnson!”
The bright, well-scrubbed features of our good-natured landlady were now visible in the open door. She was bearing a tray of covered dishes which gave off an agreeable aroma.
“There we are, gentlemen! You look as if you could both do with a good meal and a long sleep.”
“I am already enjoying a good meal, Mrs Johnson,” I replied. “I shall make up for the sleep tonight.”
Mrs Johnson smiled warmly, turning a twinkling eye on each of us in turn.
“If I did not point out these things, gentlemen, I don’t know what would happen to the both of you.”
“I dare say you are right, Mrs Johnson,” said Pons equably. “For you certainly look after us incomparably.”
After setting out Pons’ breakfast our amiable hostess had gone over toward the window to place the tray on a table there when she gave a sudden exclamation.
“Well I never!”
“What is it, Mrs Johnson?”
Pons was at her side in a moment.
“Down there, Mr Pons. I have never seen an old fellow behave in such an odd way.”
“Yes, he does look rather peculiar, Mrs Johnson,” said Pons casually, turning his eyes down toward the street.
“I presume you are referring to the retired Willesden plumber with the glass eye who now runs messages for the Metropole Hotel in the Strand.”
“Mr Pons!”
Mrs Johnson stared at my companion awestruck.
“How could you possibly know that, Pons?” I exclaimed. Solar Pons burst out in an explosion of laughter.
“I am just having my little joke, Parker. I am sure Mrs Johnson will forgive me. You are incorrect in saying I could not have known It. I could not have deduced it, certainly.”
I stared at Pons with mounting bewilderment.
“Then you know the man, Pons?”
“Of course, Parker! He is a retired plumber from Willesden who is now working as a porter at the Metropole. I recognised the uniform immediately. I did not know he had a glass eye but from the way he keeps bumping into people in the street and swivelling his head to the right I would certainly say that he either has lost the sight of that eye or has a glass one, which comes to the same thing.”
Mrs Johnson was all smiles now.
“Really, Mr Pons,” she said in mock-reproof.
“Even I must indulge my sense of humour at times, Mrs Johnson,” he said abstractedly. “Meakins is certainly behaving strangely. He is hatless, agitated and careless of where he is going. But he is almost certainly coming here.”
A few moments later there was a furious tattoo upon the front door-knocker, followed by several peals at the bell. Mrs Johnson was already on her way downstairs. A short while later she ushered in the old man who had been the subject of so much speculation from our window. He was indeed a pitiable sight, dishevelled and out of breath, his white hair fallen over his eyes, his dark blue uniform only half-buttoned. He peered about him uncertainly as he came into the room.
“I am sorry to intrude in such a manner, gentlemen. Mr Pons? Mr Solar Pons?”
“Come in and sit yourself down, Meakins,” said Pons with a kindly smile. “It is obviously something of importance which brings you in such haste from the Metropole this morning.”
“Ah, you know me, Mr Pons?”
“Indeed, you are a most distinctive figure. An old soldier, I see.”
Meakins, who was just sinking gingerly into one of our easy chairs looked at Pons with amazement.
“Why, yes, sir. Though how you could possibly…”
“Tut, man, it is elementary,” said my companion briskly. “Your bearing, the way you carry yourself in that uniform. Not to mention the wound ribbon which I perceive upon your breast there.”
Meakins gave a weak smile and assented gratefully as I pressed a cup of coffee upon him as we continued with our breakfast. Mrs Johnson quitted the room as soon as she saw we had everything we required and I now had time to study our strange visitor.
He had a gaunt, rugged face in which deep lines, either of suffering or caused by some disease, ran from his nose down to the corners of his mouth. As Pons had surmised, he had something wrong with his right eye for the eyelid was all puckered down over what I suspected to be an empty socket. He evidently was aware of my scrutiny for while he was regaining his breath he shifted uneasily in his chair and looked at me with the faded blue of his good left eye.
“Though I was well over-age for the Army, I lost my eye at Ypres, doctor,” he said quietly. “It is a poor substitute but I wear the ribbon just the same.”
“Quite right, I said stoutly. “It was bravely earned, Meakins.”
The old man smiled ironically and looked across at Solar Pons.
“I shouldn’t really be sitting here, gentlemen. The manager, Mr Hibbert, asked me to bring you to the Metropole at once, Mr Pons.”
Solar Pons glanced at him sharply with his deep-set eyes. “It is a grave matter, then.”
The old soldier nodded seriously, his one eye wide and staring.
“Nothing less than horrible, cold-blooded murder, Mr Pons!”
2
“Good gracious!” I said in the heavy silence which followed. My companion was already on his feet.
“Of course, I shall come at once. Though why Mr Hibbert did not telephone….”
The messenger shook his head.
“It was quite impossible, Mr Pons. Mr Hibbert himself is under arrest and forbidden all communication at the moment. But he managed to whisper to me and I came straight away.”
“Most singular,” Pons muttered to me and then turned back to Meakins.
“Very well. I think we had best take a cab to avoid wasting further time. Fortunately, Parker, we had almost finished breakfast. Can you spare an hour or two?”
“Indeed, Pons,” I mumbled, swallowing the last of my coffee. “It is my rest day today.”
“That is settled, then. I think we had best hear the remainder of the story as we o along.”
“If you would just give me a few minutes to wash and shave, Pons,” I protested.
My companion smiled thinly.
“Of course, Parker. I think we can spare ten minutes for that useful purpose. The Metropole is a high-class establishment and we would not wish to cause a sensation on our entrance.”
The old man smiled, despite the worried look on his face. “Oh, I do not think you need worry about that, gentlemen, in view of what has happened during the night,” he said.
Pons resumed his place at the table to finish his interrupted meal while I hurriedly made my toilet. A little more presentable, I soon regained the sitting-room to find Mrs Johnson clearing the table and Pons ready for our unexpected outing.
As we jolted in the cab on our way to the Strand, Meakins slumped in the corner and Pons sitting silently opposite me, smoke curling from his pipe, the old man seemed a little calmer.
“It was a gentleman who came to the hotel last night, Mr Pons. A tall, strange gentleman, with a heavy beard, dark glasses and expensive-looking clothes. It is beautiful weather, as you can see, sir, but he was all muffled up in an overcoat and scarf.”
Solar Pons shot me a sardonic look.
“What do you make of that, Parker?”
I shook my head.
“You are not catching me out this time, Pons. Either he had just returned from the tropics or he wanted to avoid recognition.”
“Excellent, Parker!” said Pons, tightening his strong teeth on the stem of his pipe. “You are as sharp as a razor this morning.”
“I do not understand, doctor,” said the old messenger, bewilderment on his honest face.