"It does not seem as though I am in the lady's confidence. She has newer friends in whom to place her trust it appears."
He jerked his head stiffly, with an embarrassed expression.
"Good day, gentlemen."
And he strode out of the bar. I gazed after him blankly. "What odd behavior, Pons. Do you think he can have anything to do with this bizarre business?"
"Possibly, Parker. He certainly seems piqued that we are staying at The Old Rectory."
"Perhaps he is an admirer of the lady himself, Pons."
My companion stared at me gravely.
"It is just possible, Parker. She is certainly a very attractive young woman."
Our conversation passed on to other matters and dusk had fallen when we walked back to our hostess' house. An excellent cold salad supper had been prepared in the dining room, served by the housekeeper, and during the meal Pons kept up a bantering conversation with Miss Stuart in which all reasons for our being there were avoided. There was a lull as the fruit and coffee were brought in and I chose the interval to remark on our conversation with Kemp.
It was my impression that Miss Stuart colored a little as she looked from me to Pons.
"Major Kemp? I hope you did not discuss your business here, gentlemen?"
"Certainly not, Miss Stuart," I ventured. "The major seemed concerned about you. He volunteered that the man you saw may have been a gypsy."
A troubled look passed across the fair girl's face.
"It is possible, Dr. Parker. As the major said, there are a number of camps."
"Exactly where?" interjected Solar Pons. "Though gypsies are not the problem."
"Two to my knowledge on the edge of Cresswell Woods. Another down at the old quarry, south of the village."
"I see."
Solar Pons nodded, his thin fingers tented before him on the oak table top.
"Tell me, Miss Stuart, are you quite alone in the world? Except for your mother, that is?"
Our hostess bit her lip.
"There is no one to speak of, Mr. Pons. My father's brother, Jeremy, used to stay here, years ago. Father did not speak much of him. He was — the black sheep of the family, I believe."
She smiled.
"In the classical tradition he emigrated to Australia, I understand."
"I see. You would have been a child at the time?"
"Indeed, Mr. Pons. I remember there was a quarrel between them on one occasion, which was unusual, because my father was a very mild man. After that, Uncle Jeremy no longer came here. I have' no doubt my mother would know more."
"Pray do not bother, Miss Stuart. It is just that I wish to get a complete picture of your household."
Pons glanced at the cased grandfather clock in the corner of the dining room.
"I have a mind to take a moonlight walk after that excellent supper, Parker. Would it be possible for me to have a front door key, Miss Stuart?"
"By all means, Mr. Pons."
Miss Stuart looked a little startled and Pons smiled to reassure her.
"It is not yet nine o'clock. We shall be no more than an hour or two and in any event will be back inside these walls well before midnight."
The girl passed a hand across her face.
"I should appreciate it, Mr. Pons. There are only the two of us here, you see, and after what has happened…"
Her voice faltered and she stopped. Solar Pons rose from the table and put his hand gently on her arm.
"You are in no danger now, Miss Stuart. Just lock all your doors and windows and leave the front door on the latch. I will securely lock and bolt it on our return. Come, Parker."
I followed Pons up to his bedroom somewhat bemused and waited while he rummaged-in his suitcase. He produced a small flashlight in a case and a flat packet tied in oiled silk.
"I think this will do nicely for our little expedition, Parker. You have your revolver?"
"Certainly, Pons."
"Come along then, my dear fellow."
I followed him downstairs and out through the garden with increasing puzzlement. We hurried down the path toward the churchyard.
"But where are we going, Pons?"
"To the church, of course, Parker. The key to the whole situation lies there."
"You amaze me, Pons."
Solar Pons chuckled.
"That is only because you have not included Meade Faulkner on your reading list. I will explain later. In case I am wrong."
"You are seldom wrong, Pons."
"More often than you think, my dear fellow."
We hurried up the path between the gravestones in the brilliant moonlight, the homely sounds of the small village of Grassington behind us coming sharp and clear on the warm summer air. There was an agreeable smell of mown grass in the churchyard and the faintest trace of orange-red lingered in the west, as though the sun were reluctant to depart. Gas lamps bloomed in the roadway which skirted the church and we waited as a small group of excited young people — evidently the stragglers from a tennis party — chattered their way along the road.
All was quiet except for the distant drone of a motor car as we came up to the massive porch door.
"How on earth are we to get in, Pons?"
To my astonishment my companion produced a huge iron key from his coat pocket. His eyes were twinkling as he inserted it into the lock.
"I abstracted it earlier, my dear fellow. The Rector asked me to be sure to lock it, you remember."
"We are more likely to be seeing the inside of the village constable's lock-up than the church, Pons," I said a little irritably.
"Tut, Parker, you stand too much upon your dignity. It is a failing I have often observed among the medical profession. Pomposity, like a distended stomach, is all the better for being deflated."
I thought it best not to answer that and a few moments later we were within the darkened church. I waited until Pons had relocked the main door and then crept quietly after him down the central aisle, the pale and cautious disc of his flashlight beam dancing across the stone-flagged floor. Pons had a slip of paperin his hand and consulted it. quietly as we came to the chapel entrance.
"Let us just work this out, Parker. It should not take long."
He handed me the flashlight and I waited while he again consulted the paper, his lean, eager face alive with interest.
"Ah, yes. It is quite clear. Here are the children. If you would be so good, Parker, as to shine the beam onto the floor here."
I did as he said, considerably puzzled by my companion's strange behavior. Pons went beyond the Darnley statue, his lips moving noiselessly. He walked along the line of heavy paving stones within the chapel. He gave a small exclamation of satisfaction and bent swiftly to the floor. I joined him, shining the beam of the flashlight onto a large slab that bore faded carving. One name could be vaguely made out and Pons waited patiently while I deciphered it.
"Why, Pons, this appears to be the entrance to the family vault of the Cresswell family!"
"Does it not, Parker. Ah, yes, it should not be too difficult."
To my astonishment Pons placed the flashlight on the floor where he could see to work and selected what appeared to be a slim, cold chisel from the small pack he had brought from his bedroom. He went around the edges of the slab, frowning the while, until he finally inserted the edge of the instrument into the faint hairline between the slab and the surround. I put my hand upon his arm.
"Heavens, Pons, you surely do not intend to break into the vault?"
"That is most certainly my intention," Solar Pons replied coolly. "Just stand back, there's a good fellow."
I did as he bade, considerably perturbed, my eyes darting about the dark interior of the church, now silvered with moonlight, while the harsh grating noise as Pons commenced work denoted the pressure he was putting to bear upon the slab.