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Pons nodded, his eyes hooded, as he waited for our choleric visitor to go on.

“That was in April, Mr. Pons. Throughout May I saw little of Foy as circumstances took me to Scotland for much of the month. Then, in June, after I had returned to town, other bizarre things happened. These culminated in the annual meeting of Foy’s group of companies. As a shareholder I gave notice of my intention to attend and duly went along. Imagine my astonishment, gentlemen, when Foy, in his capacity as Chairman attended in a sober city suit, but with white drill trousers. There was consternation as he rose on the platform to make his annual report.

“He gave a garbled statement, which was nonsensical to most of those in the room, and there was uproar. Then he got up to leave precipitately and quitted the meeting, attired in a white solar pith helmet!”

The Colonel was almost foaming with rage now and I could see Pons’ lips twitch with amusement, though his eyes were alight with interest.

“And what was the result of this, Colonel?”

“Well, exactly what might have been expected, Mr. Pons. The financial press were present, of course, and made much of it. The shares have been depressed and in a week’s time there is to be an extraordinary general meeting of the Board to discuss the Chairman’s sanity. Of course, that is not the given reason for the meeting, but there is no doubt as to its implications.”

“I see,” said Pons slowly, leaning back in his chair and emitting a thin plume of blue smoke from his pipe toward the ceiling. “That is the extent of all you have to tell us?”

“I should have thought that quite enough, Mr. Pons,” said the Colonel grimly. “As I have said, I could add a great deal more, but prefer to rely on personal testimony.”

“Quite,” I interjected.

Pons nodded.

“Excellent, Colonel. You have done quite right in coming to me. You may rest assured I shall look into the matter.”

He held up his hand as though to stem an expected interruption on the part of our guest.

“And you may rely upon my tact and discretion.”

“Very well, Mr. Pons.”

Colonel Mortimer got to his feet abruptly.

“I shall expect to hear from you, Mr. Pons. Good night, gentlemen.”

“Good night, Colonel Mortimer.”

-3-

The door clicked to behind the dapper military figure and we heard his descending footsteps followed by the faint slam of the front door. There was silence for a few moments as Pons leaned back in his chair, his eyes bright and concentrated through his pipe-smoke.

“What do you make of it, Parker?”

“I, Pons? It seems to be plain that the matter is as the Colonel says. Foy is stark, staring mad.”

“Perhaps, Parker, perhaps. It is not unknown among financiers or newspaper proprietors, come to that. But I fancy there is something deeper behind it. Just hand me down that financial reference volume from the shelf behind you, if you would be so good.”

I did as he bade, passing the heavy tome to him, he remaining engrossed in it, sunk deep in his armchair, the volume on his knee, his brows knotted in concentration, blue whorls of smoke hanging about his absorbed figure. Presently he gave a grunt and brought it over to my own arm-chair.

“Just glance through that, Parker, if you would be so good and give me your observations.”

I went down the long column of information while Pons stood near the table looking through the open window curtains down at the darkling street.

“A busy and strenuous life, Pons.”

“Indeed, Parker.”

“A widower, I see. Wife died three years ago, according to this.”

“The fact had not escaped me, my dear fellow.”

“One child. The boy is now twelve, I observe. At school in Switzerland.”

Pons had turned from the window and stood looking down at me with sombre eyes.

“You have read all that, Parker, but what do you infer from it?”

I placed the heavy volume on the table at my side and threw up my hands in mock despair.

“What is there to be inferred from it, Pons? It is merely the record of one man’s busy public life.”

Pons went back to sit in his own chair, his lean face alive with concentration, his thin fingers, restless as the antennae of an insect, drumming softly on the leather arm.

“Much may be read from such facts, Parker.”

“If one knows how to draw such conclusions, Pons.”

He shot me a quick smile.

“Well observed, but what do you make, for example, of his life so far.”

I turned back to the book again and held it open on my knee, going down the column with my thumb.

“Well, according to this Foy was born in extremely humble circumstances. He largely educated himself at night-schools and by solitary reading. Opened a small shop in Houndsditch and had made his first financial coup by the age of twenty-one. He moved into the stock-market, public companies and the really big money before the age of thirty.”

“Exactly, Parker. You have hit the nail on the head. That is not the life-story of a man who is unbalanced, uncertain and erratic.”

I looked at him in astonishment.

“Perhaps so, Pons, but how are we to evaluate his mental and physical state in more recent years.”

My companion stared at me intently.

“That is fairly put, Parker, but I fancy we may draw a few further inferences from the available data.”

“I confess I do not see how, Pons.”

“That is because you are not looking beneath the surface. For example, Foy was elected to the Board of the Academy of Arts and Sciences in February this year. As you may have observed the volume you are studying came out only a few weeks ago and its entries are remarkably up to date.”

“Even so, Pons, I cannot imagine how that would help us.”

“Tut, Parker, you really must learn to use those ratiocinative faculties God has given you. The Academy is not noted for its ease of entry. Its membership bears grave responsibilities and its members are drawn only from the ranks of those outstanding men of science, art and industry, who have contributed a great deal to the country. Above all, they must be level-headed, masters of their professions and eminently sane to sit in the Academy’s councils.”

I stared at my companion.

“I see, Pons. But what are you inferring?”

Solar Pons puffed thoughtfully at his pipe.

“I am saying that Hugo Foy was as sane as you or I in February this year. In March, only a few weeks afterwards, he was as mad as a hatter if the Colonel’s testimony is to be believed.”

“You think something sudden and serious has happened to change him?”

“I am certain of it, Parker. As certain as we are sitting here. Something that runs entirely against the grain of the man; against the whole sober, even tenor of his life so far.”

“But may he not have been suddenly overtaken by insanity, Pons?”

My companion shook his head.

“I think not, Parker. I have several recent copies of the Financial Times here. I had occasion to go through them only yesterday on another matter when I could hardly help observing that Mr. Foy has been carrying out certain of his financial duties with admirable acumen. It appears to be in one field only that insanity has struck.”

And with that cryptic remark he pushed the journals over to me and not another syllable on the subject was forthcoming from him that evening.

I had to go out of town the following morning to follow up the case of a patient of mine who had had major surgery in the country, and I did not return from Hertfordshire until the late afternoon.