“Mad — and yet not mad, you say,” said Pons with considerable satisfaction. “You did well to direct this little matter my way, Parker.”
The Colonel stirred in his chair and cleared his throat nervously.
“You appreciate, Mr. Pons, that this affair must be handled with the utmost discretion. I have not been asked to act and Foy may be extremely annoyed if he learns that I have engaged your services.”
“Oh, indeed, Colonel,” said my friend easily. “It will do no harm to cast an eye in that direction and one need not commit oneself. But a gentleman who drives in his car stark naked, uses a billiard cue to play golf and drinks champagne with ginger beer, while remaining head of an immense financial empire, presents some intriguing facets to the world, would you not say so, Parker?”
“Oh indeed, Pons,” I put in, unable to resist a smile at the Colonel’s worried features.
“At the same time, Mr. Pons…” he began.
“You may have no fear, Colonel,” I broke in. “Pons is the soul of tact.”
“I am afraid that is more than I can say for you, doctor,” put in the Colonel gloweringly, which caused Pons to break into an amused chuckle.
“If you would just hand me down that Who’s Who from the shelf yonder, Parker, I will refresh my memory with the salient facets of Mr. Hugo Foy’s career.”
I lifted the heavy volume from the shelf and carried it over toward him. I remained standing by his chair as he ran his finger down the pages, an intent expression on his lean, feral features.
“Ah, here we are. Yes, just as I thought. Chairman of Wildwood House Group of investment companies. Publications include: The World Economic Situation; Through the Abyss — a Guide to Current Fiscal Policy; Company Law and Procedure, etc., etc.”
He put the volume in his lap and frowned at it.
“Hmm. Hardly light reading, Parker. Your friend Foy does not seem the frivolous type judging by his financial career and the sort of literature he writes, Colonel.”
“That is true, Mr. Pons,” said our visitor gloomily, inclining his head toward my companion. “The more I think about it the more ill-advised I feel my visit here.”
“Come, Colonel, do not say so,” said Pons briskly, taking up his pipe again. “There may be method behind these outbursts of lunacy. Pray let us have the background and salient details in specific order, if you please.”
Colonel Mortimer leaned forward in his chair and fixed my companion with troubled eyes.
“As I have explained to the good doctor here, Mr. Pons, I am merely a bystander, an observer, who has watched this madness creeping upon an acquaintance over the past few months. I have no official standing, am not authorised to act in the matter but…”
“You feel a responsibility for a fellow human being, Colonel,” Solar Pons interrupted smoothly, looking searchingly at our visitor through the wreathing columns of fragrant blue smoke which surrounded him. “These sentiments do you great credit. Let us be frank. If Hugo Foy is going mad then surely his family or staff would have called in medical advice long before now. Or do you suspect something else?”
The Colonel shifted uneasily in his chair, licking his lips. “You are a shrewd man, Mr. Pons,” he mumbled. “You see below the surface of things. I must confess I have a vested interest in the matter, though that is not my only concern.” “You have invested some capital in Mr. Foy’s enterprises?” The Colonel nodded, unable to keep the surprise from his eyes.
“You have read the situation correctly, Mr. Pons. The amount would not bankrupt me if I lost the money but I must confess it would severely curtail my life-style.”
Pons was silent for a moment, his deep-set eyes gazing at Mortimer so intently that he seemed to see quite through him.
“Would it be indiscreet to ask how much you have invested, Colonel?”
The military figure bristled a little but the answer was forthcoming without hesitation.
“I do not mind you and Dr. Parker knowing, Mr. Pons, as I realize it will go no farther than this room.”
Pons gave a slight inclination of his head, his brilliant eyes remaining fixed on the Colonel.
“A little over forty-thousand pounds, Mr. Pons.”
“Indeed. Rather too large a sum to leave in the hands of a possibly unbalanced property tycoon, Parker.”
“As you say, Pons.”
My companion’s lean, febrile fingers were drumming softly on the arm of his chair as he puffed furiously at his pipe. “How was this money invested, Colonel Mortimer?”
“Mostly in South American mining shares, Mr. Pons. I have no reason to believe there is anything wrong with them. They have an excellent reputation in the City and the share-prices remain constant, as I had occasion to confirm this morning from the Financial Times.”
Pons nodded.
“The investment came about in what manner?”
“I had known Foy for some time, Mr. Pons. As I have already mentioned we are near neighbours. Curiously enough, we lived close in Chelsea some years ago. Then I moved to The Boltons and he bought a house nearby about a year ago and so we became neighbours again.”
“Presumably the investment possibility arose over conversations at the card-table.”
Colonel Mortimer nodded gloomily.
“Exactly so, Mr. Pons. I had followed Foy’s brilliant career in the City, of course. Indeed, he is an international figure. So when this opportunity for investment came up last autumn, I was only too glad to get in on the ground floor, as it were.”
“And now you are not only worried at your neighbour’s eccentricities but for the safety of your investment?”
The Colonel bit his lip.
“That must come into it, Mr. Pons.”
“Naturally. Now, just how long has this bizarre behaviour been going on?”
“Something like two to three months.”
Solar Pons leaned back in his chair and tented his thin fingers before him.
“Pray be precise as to circumstance and detail.”
“Very well, Mr. Pons,” said our visitor grimly. “I will endeavour to be as accurate as possible though the whole business looks, on the face of it, like raving insanity.”
Solar Pons nodded.
“Exactly when did this curious behaviour begin?”
“As near as I can make out, Mr. Pons, at the end of March this year. I can be as positive as that because I had been thrown into fairly close contact with him during the past winter, in the little matter I earlier spoke of and we had also been together at card-parties when we were partners at bridge on a number of occasions. Foy had been showing some little signs of strain.”
Pons leaned forward and shot our visitor a penetrating glance.
“In what way?”
“Lack of concentration, Mr. Pons. Not only at cards but in other matters. He seemed out of sorts and on two or three occasions he made elementary mistakes at bridge which caused some comment, I can tell you.”
“He was a good bridge player?”
“Of the highest class, Mr. Pons. I am no mean hand at cards myself but I am not in the same league. It was a pleasure to watch a player of that calibre.”
Solar Pons pulled reflectively at the lobe of his left ear. “Did not such behaviour strike you as even more bizarre than his apparent acts of madness?”
A look of absolute astonishment passed across Colonel Mortimer’s face.
“I am sure I do not know what you mean, Mr. Pons.”
“It makes no matter. Please continue.”
The puzzled look persisted in the Colonel’s eyes as he went on with his narrative.
“He absolutely threw the games away, Mr. Pons, even when he had all the key cards in his own hands. Naturally, this created astonishment and dismay in our small circle and there was some debate about asking him to continue at our sessions. That problem was something that solved itself.”