He rose to his feet eventually and put the magnifying lens back in his pocket.
“You will notice there is no sign of the Devil’s Claw, Parker,” he said mockingly, his eyes fixed upon Inspector Stone, who stood watching the gradually approaching figure of Mulvane.
“The ground is too hard, Pons,” I said.
He nodded impatiently.
“Exactly. But that did not prevent such indentations on a previous occasion when murder had been done and the freezing weather conditions were exactly the same.”
“The Ram Dass Society, Pons…” I began.”
He gave me an amused look.
“Your sense of fantasy is growing apace, Parker,” he said.
Before I had time to reply he had moved away, working across the broken ground, back from the edge of the pond. He turned as I came up.
“The would-be murderer approached from that thicket yonder,” he observed. “There is just enough cover behind the evergreens. It seems I must revise my earlier theory, formed before I had been over the ground. So far as I can make out Peters must have been standing at the edge of the pond, perhaps ascertaining the condition of the ice. He would have to have been stationary for such an attack. As you can see from the position of the thicket the attacker, who may have been there for some time, could have rushed up behind Peters to strike him and push him in before his victim was aware of his presence.”
He pulled gently at the lobe of his left ear.
“Yes, Parker, I think that scenario fits the available facts.”
“It looks as though the case may take some time to unravel, Pons,” I said. “If you wish I can phone my locum and make arrangements for him to take over for the coming week. Fortunately, my list is rather light at the moment.”
Pons looked at me sharply.
“I would greatly appreciate that, my dear fellow,” he said softly. “Your presence is invaluable, as you must know, though I am afraid that when I become so absorbed, the fact may not always be evident to you.”
I mumbled my thanks, making a mental note to telephone as soon as we had returned to the house.
“You think the attack would have been unpremeditated, Pons?” I ventured.
He shook his head.
“Hardly, Parker. Peters was followed, without doubt. Let us just say opportunistic. Hard as the ground is I have some small indications of our man’s movements. If I am not mistaken he moved off after the attack, going in the direction of the old cemetery.”
“That is interesting, Pons.”
“Is it not, Parker.”
“Then why do we not proceed there immediately?”
My companion smiled, exchanging a shrewd glance with
Inspector Stone, who was standing a few yards away from us.
“Because there are many extremely faint impressions about here, mostly of hobnail boots in the frozen grass, undoubtedly made by the estate people when Peters was rescued from the pond. Despite the hardness of the terrain I was able to make that out. But some farm employees came from and returned in the direction of the cemetery, while others no doubt accompanied the unfortunate Peters across the area of the ponds, toward the stables direct. I have already seen what there is to be sent here, so I do not think your question would be profitable, though I appreciate your intentions, my dear fellow.”
I glanced at my watch.
“I think I ought to get across to Yeoman’s to see how my patient is doing.”
“By all means. Ah, here is Mr Mulvane.”
Our client was looking pale and grim-faced as he approached, his heavy boots making crackling noises among the roots of the frost-bonded grass.
“How is Mr Peters?” I asked. “I think I ought to call in at his house.”
Mulvane shook his head.
“There is really no need, Dr Parker. I have just been there and Mrs Peters told me there is no further cause for alarm. She has given him a sleeping draught and he is warm and comfortable in bed. The cut on his head is the most serious consequence but she has treated it with antiseptic and bandaged him in a most expert manner. I was allowed to look at him from the door of his room. Mrs Peters gave me the impression that she is quite skilled in medical matters.”
“That is all right, then,” I said with relief. “But if you telephone Mrs Peters later in the day would you please tell her that I will call round later in the early evening.”
“Certainly, Dr Parker. I am afraid this terrible business has my nerves on edge.”
Pons moved over and took our client by the arm.
“It is always darkest before daybreak, Mr Mulvane,” he said comfortingly. “I have no doubt all will be well in due time.”
Mulvane’s face brightened.
“You have found a way through this black business, Mr Pons?”
My colleague gave him a reassuring smile.
“I would prefer to say nothing at this moment but there are certain promising aspects that present themselves.”
He turned on his heel.
“And now, friend Parker, it is surely time to make out way to the house for the excellent lunch that I am sure has been prepared for us.”
As we traversed the spits of land that connected the series of frozen ponds and regained the stable area, something caught my eye as we began to move back up the misty lane in the direction of the great house. I had brought up the rear and suddenly glimpsed a shadowy figure crossing the stable yard. It was that of a tall man carrying a large suitcase. It was difficult to make out detail in the misty light but I could have sworn he wore a turban. In a state of high excitement I turned to my companion but bit back the words that sprung to my lips. The man would have been too far away to catch in any case by the time I rejoined Pons, who had now drawn some way ahead. I resolved to keep my own counsel for the time being.
Fourteen: CHALCROFT COLLEGE
“Just why are we going here, Pons?” I said, having difficulty in keeping up with my friend’s brisk pace along the frosty road. It was early afternoon and the ornate gates of Chalcroft College were beginning to compose themselves from out the mist.
“It is as well to maintain the social niceties, Parker,” he replied airily. “We have already met Mr Vincent Tidmarsh in the elegant setting of our host’s mansion. It is only fitting that we pay a return call on his home ground.”
“Good heavens, Pons,” I mumbled. “You surely do not suspect the music master of being involved in this?”
My companion turned a bright eye upon me.
“I suspect no-one and everyone, my dear fellow. I have a desire to glance at his own library. According to Mulvane he has an extraordinary taste in rare books.”
“Ah!” I said. “A pretext, Pons. You really mean to see if there is a lady teacher on the College staff whose Christian name is Angela? You have not forgotten the fragment of that half- burnt note in old Hardcastle’s study?”
Pons took the empty stem of his pipe out of his mouth. “Sometimes you really amaze me, Parker,” he said evenly. Before I could reply, a young man, tightly muffled against the bitter weather, rode a bicycle out of the main gates of the College and slowed to a halt at Pons’ signal.
“Could you direct me to Mr Tidmarsh’s quarters?”
“Ah, the College music master. I understand he is in this afternoon. Go straight past the chapel and his study and library are in the first quadrangle on the right.”
Pons thanked our informant and a few moments later we had passed an imposing chapel which looked as though it had been designed by Lutyens and turned into a quadrangle of handsome sandstone buildings with oriel windows. I followed Pons up a flight of stone steps and through the big oak doors where we found ourselves in an echoing corridor, filled with the sound of distant footfalls and voices.