"I have no doubt of that, Sir Clive," said Pons steadily. "And if I know my man, Superintendent Heathfield will have discovered his innocence already."
Sir Clive stood up, his features working.
"Would you give me a quarter of an hour, Mr Pons? I wish to take care of some things in the next room yonder."
Solar Pons nodded, his manner abstracted. "Certainly, Sir Clive."
We waited as his footsteps died out across the parquet. My companion stared at me sombrely.
"It is a tragic business, Parker."
He indicated the letters on the table.
"A man's sexual aberrations are his own problem. In my view there is no crime so long as he does not corrupt the young. Sir Clive's peculiarities had brought him within the scope of the blackmailer, just as thousands have been in the past and many more will be in the future."
"Good heavens, Pons, I did not realise…"
Solar Pons smiled thinly. He went over to the desk and scooped up the letters. He placed them in the hearth, brought some logs over and stirred the embers into a blaze. Within a few minutes there was nothing but a handful of grey ashes in the fireplace.
'That will take care of an ugly scandal, Parker. The letters from Jefferies that I have retained will provide the police with enough motive, I think."
He paused as there came the muffled crack of an explosion. I was already rushing toward the door when Solar Pons stopped me.
"It is too late, Parker. I will not say that justice has been done, but the law will be satisfied. It is an imperfect world and we shall have to be content and let it rest there."
He stood in silence for a moment, putting the documents into his pocket, listening to the noise of hurrying footsteps in the house. Then he walked slowly toward the door of the room in which Sir Clive had just taken his life.