I nodded.
“Of course, Pons. How foolish of me. I was mixing up the crates.”
Solar Pons knocked out the ash from his pipe in the fender. “A great many things have been mixed up in this matter, Parker,” he said gently.
He held up his hand with a commanding gesture.
“A moment, Parker. Something is not right here.”
A few seconds later I caught the faint sounds which his keen ears had already discerned. It sounded like a dim, scuffling noise in the far distance. Pons was already on his feet, his upraised hand enjoining caution. He strode toward the door. Quick as he was, a key was already turning in the lock. I was running to join him as he pounded at the massive panels.
There was silence from the room beyond now.
“I have been a fool, Parker!” said Pons harshly.
He looked round the room, ran to the long window at the end and flung it open. I found the scene wavering in front of me, stared with amazement at the thick, pungent tendrils of vapour which were seeping in under the door.
“Gas, Pons!” I croaked, plucking at my collar.
I saw Pons’ tall figure undulate and buckle before I went down into a deep velvet darkness. How long I was unconscious I have no way of knowing but I came to myself to find perspiration cascading down my cheeks and nausea in my throat. I gulped in the cold night air gratefully, taking great mouthfuls into my lungs. Pons was beside me at the open window. He looked grimly over my shoulder.
“I have been lax, Parker,” he rapped. “If I had not opened this window we should have been out for the evening. As it is I was able to turn off the gas fire and drag you clear before the fumes had any effect on me.”
I rubbed my streaming eyes, conscious of the great flat roof of the Museum below us in the night.
“What is it, Pons?”
“Our men are at work, Parker. I have no doubt they have overpowered Biggs. But they do not know I have the keys.”
He held the bunch up with shining eyes. I looked back over my shoulder to find the room still half-full of acrid fumes.
“I fancy we can get down on to this flat roof with a little effort, Parker. Are you game?”
“By all means, Pons. I am certainly not staying here.”
He smiled at my expression and threw his leg over the sill swiftly.
“Ah, there is the diversion!”
There was a muffled explosion somewhere in the vast pile below us and immediately there sprang up smoke and flames from half a dozen different points.
“Our friends are nothing if not thorough!”
He was standing some feet below the window now and he paused to help me down. Once in the open air my head cleared rapidly and I followed him across the leads as quickly as possible.
“What on earth is happening, Pons?”
“A little pantomime staged for the benefit of friend Jamison. And it would have worked had not luck favoured us. I have been extremely lax in this matter.”
“I would hardly think so, Pons. You have extricated us from that room.”
He shook his head, tugging at a trap-door at the far side of the roof.
“Ah, here is a fire-exit. This should do admirably.”
He opened the oblong doorway, revealing a shaft of light and a narrow iron stairway leading down.
“We should not have been in that room and I should not have allowed us to be taken by surprise in that elementary manner. The story will not amuse Bancroft when he hears about it.”
He was already halfway down the ladder and I followed him gingerly, rejoining him in a narrow corridor which was obviously somewhere in the store-room area of the museum.
“You have your revolver, Parker?”
“It is here, Pons.”
“Good. We may have need of it shortly.”
We could hear running footsteps, hoarse shouts and the high, insistent clanging of a bell. We found a narrow stairway and started down. The smoke was quite thick now and we had to proceed cautiously the lower we went. We were evidently in an area of the museum barred to the public for we met several staff notices at turns in the narrow stair. I had clapped my handkerchief over my face and I noticed Pons had done the same. There was a green baize door in front and as we opened it and stepped through the smoke was thicker. Pons made a clicking noise indicative of annoyance.
We were obviously on the ground floor for between eddies of thick white smoke we could see the wavering outline of the grand staircase.
“We have missed a turn, Parker,” said Pons, moving aside to dodge the blundering figure of a uniformed constable who disappeared as swiftly as he had loomed out of the murk.
“Does it matter, Pons?”
“I think not, Parker. It will take them some time to get through that door.”
“Ah, the strong-room.”
There were more cries in front of us now and flashes of flame. By their light we could see the stocky figure of Inspector Jamison not more than two yards away.
“Ah! Mr. Pons! What did I say?”
“What did you say, Jamison?”
Strangely, the smoke was sweet and smelled of chemicals though the fog it gave off was quite impenetrable. Hence we were able to carry on conversation quite normally.
“Why, that the thieves would go for the Valley of the Kings treasures.”
Solar Pons, silhouetted in front of me against the background of white fog, shook his head.
“I think not, Jamison.”
He pointed upward.
“Those smoke-bombs were obviously lobbed from the gallery yonder. We shall find the answer to our questions up there.”
Jamison stared at Pons open-mouthed.
“Quick, man, quick!” said Pons urgently, starting toward the stairs. ‘Three of your strongest constables and we may yet be in time.”
Jamison blew a shrill blast on his whistle and heavy forms loomed up behind us. I heard the harsh clatter of boots on the stair as I hurried upward, trying to keep Pons in sight. The higher we went the thinner the smoke grew until at last, as we gained the second floor, it thinned sufficiently for me to recognise the salient features of the corridors and doors.
“Here we are, Parker,” said Pons, pointing to the Curator’s quarters, which we had just recently so precipitately quitted.
“No, my dear fellow, it is obviously locked. A couple of shots, I think. And stand well back. These men are armed and desperate.”
I put three shots through the lock. I was about to enter the room when Pons dragged me back. A moment later a bullet passed through the door-panel, sending splinters of wood whining angrily about the corridor.
“We will just await the official force, Parker,” said Pons calmly. “After all, they are paid to risk their lives in the public service. You are not.”
“You obviously know what awaits us in there, Pons.”
“I have a good idea, Parker. The matter was fairly obvious but I naturally did not know what form the feint would take.”
Inspector Jamison suddenly appeared a few yards from us, his face angry and bewildered.
“What on earth, Mr. Pons…?”
He was rudely interrupted by a missile which ejected from the suddenly open door in front of us. It burst almost at his feet and we were immediately enveloped in thick white smoke. Pons had me by the arm.
“Our opportunity, I think, Parker! Follow me!”
I plunged headlong into the smoke at his heels. There was a bellow of rage and pain as a bulky form blundered into us. Pons was on him like a flash, the pistol-hand held in an iron grip.
“Quickly, Parker!”
I lashed out heavily, felt my pistol barrel connect with someone’s jaw. There was a grunt and the huge form crashed over backward, Pons and I on top of it. The pistol went skidding across the parquet as Pons hammered the big hand at the floor. I saw the ghastly, wrinkled mummy-face and my grip faltered in astonishment. Then Inspector Jamison had moved past me, a handkerchief across his mouth. There was the click of handcuffs as the giant was pinioned. A uniformed constable grabbed the mummy-form by the ankles and started dragging it out of the room.