His eyes positively twinkled as he glanced at Jamison.
“Therefore, I postulate, Parker — though entirely at random — that Lennard here had been a book-keeper. He has a neat, bookish look; his right shoulder is slightly lower at the point where he leans forward to use his pen on the desk and his right sleeve there is well worn where he rests it on the wooden surface.”
“Remarkable, Pons,” I said warmly.
“It was self-evident, Parker.”
“But how can you be so positive that Mr Lennard has been here only a short time?”
“The degree of tan in the complexion, Parker. If he had been employed by the hotel for much longer than a fortnight the tan on the right-hand side of his face would have faded. Therefore, he has been here only a short while.”
Inspector Jamison cleared his throat with a harsh rasping noise.
“Very ingenious, Mr Pons,” he said heavily. “And if I may say so…”
He was interrupted abruptly by Lennard who seized my companion effusively by the hand and pumped it up and down.
“Correct in every detail, Mr Pons! It is the most extraordinary thing I have ever heard. It is absolutely amazing. The firm failed just three weeks ago and I was lucky to find this berth at such short notice. Jobs are not easy to come by these days.”
“That is perfectly true,” said I. “Eh, Pons?”
“If you say so, Parker,” said Solar Pons languidly, his eyes fixed somewhere up in a corner of the ceiling. “You are more in touch with the market place than I, old fellow.”
His deep-set eyes were suddenly sharp and penetrating. “Now, Lennard, let us just reconstruct the events of last night. You came on duty just before six. I want you to be absolutely precise and detailed as to the circumstances relating to the late Mr Voss.”
Lennard moved his hands restlessly to and fro again. “Well, Mr Pons, as near as I can recollect it was just a fraction after 10.15 P.M. when he came into the lobby.”
I glanced at my companion.
“That tallies with what Meakins told us, Pons.”
Solar Pons smiled thinly.
“It had not escaped my observation, Parker. Pray continue, Lennard.”
“He was a tall, thick-bearded man with dark glasses. I was rather surprised when he kept the glasses on in the hotel and even more so to see that he was dressed in heavy clothes with a scarf on such an evening.”
“Quite so. What about his voice?”
“Very guttural and hoarse, Mr Pons, as though he had a bad cold. He had a strong foreign accent but he didn’t speak very much.”
Pons nodded, his penetrating eyes fixed intently on the receptionist’s face. The young lady had gone back to the desk at the insistent buzzing of the telephone and we now moved away down the foyer as a group of guests came in and demanded their keys.
“What happened next?”
“Nothing of any import, Mr Pons. The foreign gentleman registered as Mr Otto Voss of Hamburg, as you have already seen from the register. We are rather short-staffed as Meakins has probably told you and he himself carried the guest’s attaché-case up. The gentleman carried up his valise himself. It was extremely heavy, I noticed.”
“Indeed.”
Solar Pons stood pulling thoughtfully at the lobe of his left ear, his eyes now fixed somewhere in space.
“What other luggage had he?”
“Nothing but the small attaché-case, Mr Pons. The last I saw of him he was walking up the stairs with Meakins in front of him.”
“He did not use the lift?”
“I am afraid it was switched off at that time of the evening, Mr Pons.”
My companion nodded.
“Now, I want you to think very carefully, Lennard. Your answer may be of vital importance. I want to know if you were away from the desk here at any time during the night.”
A worried expression passed across the silver-haired man’s face.
“I took a break for coffee and sandwiches from about half-past eleven to half-past twelve, Mr Pons. It is not exactly against the rules but the management frown on it, though they know we will not be in the lobby all evening. We can easily hear if a guest rings down or the telephone goes, for we have a large repeater bell which is easily audible in the kitchen area.”
“I see. So you went to the kitchen for your meal and were away an hour?”
“That is so, Mr Pons.”
“So that anyone could have come and gone from the hotel without your seeing or hearing them?”
Lennard turned puzzled eyes on to Solar Pons before glancing at the immobile figure of Jamison.
“I suppose so, Mr Pons, though I cannot see what…”
“That will be all, Lennard,” said Pons crisply, a note of suppressed excitement in his voice. “You have given your account in an admirably detailed manner.”
He rubbed his thin hands together briskly.
“I think we have done all we can here for the moment, Parker. Tell me, Lennard, before we part, is Mr Esau Thornton of Banstead, Surrey, still in the hotel?”
“Yes, indeed, Mr Pons. A most delightful gentleman. He proposes to leave tomorrow afternoon for he asked me to make his bill up for midday tomorrow.”
“Excellent! Now, Parker, I think our next task is to pay a little visit to a good theatrical costumier’s. There are two leading London firms close by, if I remember correctly.”
We had turned away from the desk now, leaving Jamison with a baffled expression on his face. I hurried after Pons, having difficulty in keeping up.
“Theatrical costumiers, Pons? What on earth are you talking about?”
“Tut, Parker. The matter is elementary. Ah, here is a cab.”
Pons jumped in quickly, giving an address I didn’t catch, and I had just time to follow him before we glided away into the roaring chaos of the Strand. We paid off the cab near Bond Street and I kept hard at my companion’s heels as he turned into a narrow, fashionable street. He stopped in front of a window which had little in it except wigs and grease-paint and studied it for a minute or two with what I thought to be exaggerated care. His next remark startled me.
“I thought perhaps we might have been followed, Parker. It is as well to take every precaution.”
He drew me into the arched entrance of the establishment. “Now, my dear fellow, if you will stand guard for a few moments I shall not keep you long.”
He hurried into the shop and a short while afterward I saw him in earnest conversation with a tall, handsome young man with hair like patent leather. He re-joined me a few moments later, a wry expression on his face.
“It was unlikely that we should strike lucky first time off, Parker. Let us just see whether Glida and Company are our people. It is only a few steps farther down.”
The next establishment was incomparably more fashionable and the window was filled with fantastic-looking military uniforms of a century or more ago, slashed with scarlet and blue and gold, the gleaming epaulettes shining like stars in the highly polished teak and chromium settings. On the windows in gold curlicue script were the legends: Glida and Company. Theatrical Costumiers. By Appointment to Their Majesties.
As before I stayed outside. This time Pons interviewed a tall, powerfully-built man whose beard was heavily flecked with grey. He appeared to be the proprietor for he sent an assistant scuttling for a heavy ledger with an imperious wave of the hand. The conversation lasted some five or seven minutes and when Pons re-joined me there was a familiar glint dancing in his eyes.