“But we have already taken up far too much of your time. This was purely a social visit and I have no doubt your students will need to call on your expertise even though this is a Saturday afternoon. Good day to you.”
Tidmarsh got up to shake hands with both of us.
“You have given me much food for thought.”
We were back in the corridor again before Pons spoke.
“Well, I am waiting for your impressions, my dear fellow.”
“I cannot make it out, Pons. I was sure Tidmarsh was a prime suspect until he suddenly produced the dossier on the Devil’s Claw and it has thrown all my suppositions awry.”
My companion gave me a crooked smile.
“Ah, there are your imponderables, Parker. They always throw one off the track. Human nature is often unpredictable. That is why the current problem is so fascinating.”
“I am glad you think so, Pons,” I grumbled. “I must confess I am all at sea.”
He gave me one of his enigmatic smiles.
“It would not be the first time…”
He paused.
“There, if I am not mistaken, is Miss Masterson in the far distance. A fortuitous meeting, as it turns out. One may learn a great deal from a lady; things that would never occur to a man.” “As you say, Pons. I presume from her presence here that she must live in the College.”
“That is so, Parker. According to Mulvane her home is somewhere in the north of Scotland.”
“Ah, that explains it.”
The young lady had reached us now, somewhat flushed and animated but her eyes were shining. Evidently she had not heard the news about Peters. I wondered why Tidmarsh had not told her but perhaps there had not been time. It was obvious why Mulvane would not have wished to worry her further. She shook hands formally and then fell into step with us along the corridor.
“It is good to see you again, gentlemen. Your coming has been such a relief and I know that Hugh sets great store on your intervention in this terrible business.”
“That is good to know, Miss Masterson, but one must not expect too much. I have no supernatural powers, whatever the popular press may say.”
But there was a twinkle in his eye to which Miss Masterson responded at once.
“I have followed your cases, Mr Pons, and the splendid chronicles of the doctor here and I know you would not be persevering unless you could see some light in this affair, however dim.”
I must confess her praise at my humble auctorial efforts brought a flush to my cheeks but neither my companion nor our fair interlocutor seemed to have noticed.
“That’s as may be, Miss Masterson. But I am glad we have run into you. I would like to ask you a question or two in order to clear up a few points.”
“By all means, Mr Pons.”
As though by common consent we three had drawn into an angle in the corridor though there was no-one in view in all the echoing length of the passageway to be witness to the conversation.
“I wanted to ask about old Mr Hardcastle’s will. Mr Mulvane has not yet seen a copy, I presume?”
The girl shook her head.
“I am not really sure, Mr Pons. This whole thing had been such a shock that there was little time to consider such matters. Though I do believe that Hugh said that the old man’s will was kept in a tin box in his office. Hugh had some expectations of inheriting the estate and I told him many months ago, that as he was Mr Hardcastle’s only surviving relative, he was sure to inherit.”
She paused and then went on with a smile.
“Unless he cares to leave everything to a cats’ and dogs’ home!”
She passed a pink tongue across her full lips and both Pons and myself were constrained to return her smile.
“I am certain that that would never be the case, Miss Masterson,” said Pons. “I fancy he would want things to carry on as before, though I am certain that Mr Mulvane’s regime will be far more liberal than the old man’s.”
The girl pushed a lock of fair hair back from her eyes before turning to look over her shoulder to make sure the whole sweep of the corridor was empty.
“You can be sure of that, Mr Pons.”
“Especially if you were the mistress of Chalcroft Manor,” said my companion with a grave face.
The girl flushed and looked from one to the other of us.
“Ah, you have noticed that, Mr Pons. Apparently nothing escapes your attention.”
“I do try to keep my eyes open,” Pons replied. “Incidentally, I would prefer you to keep this conversation to yourself for the moment. I would not wish Mr Mulvane to misinterpret my motives in inquiring about the will.”
“Certainly, sir. I quite understand. But there was something else you wished to ask?”
“Only in general terms, Miss Masterson. It was just whether you had seen or heard anything suspicious about the estate over the past few months. I presume Mr Mulvane has taken you into his confidence regarding his problems.”
The girl bit her lip and turned her eyes to the floor. The rime of frost on the window pane opposite cast a stippled light across her features but without destroying their beauty.
“I knew he was troubled, Mr Pons, but he did not want to involve me too deeply in this business as he knew I would only worry on his behalf.”
“I see. Perfectly natural, Miss Masterson. You may be sure I will keep you au fait with any progress in the case as matters develop.”
“I am most grateful. And now, if you have no further questions, I have an appointment in the village. Doctor, Mr Pons.”
Again she shook hands formally and had then gone along the corridor, with quick, hurried steps, as though her heart were lightened.
“A nice girl,” I said as we once again returned to the bitter air of the outdoors and left the ornate gates of Chalcroft College behind us as we strode back along the misty lane that led to Chalcroft Manor.
“Apparently she has not heard about Peters.”
Pons turned sombre eyes to me.
“I should imagine he had no wish to worry her further. She is already burdened with Mulvane’s troubles, far more than she shows on the surface. Let us hope that I will be able to set all her fears at rest in due course.”
And he lapsed into silence as we strode on through the mist.
Fifteen: THE MISSING WILL
“I am afraid I forgot to tell you that I have now perused the post mortem findings on that tramp who died in the woods,” I said.
It was after tea and we were sitting in old Hardcastle’s office, while Mulvane went through some of his uncle’s effects. It was a bleak prospect indeed outside the windows but our host had a cheerful fire going in the massive chimneypiece, which he replenished with logs from time to time. Pons stirred in his deep easy chair, his thin, febrile fingers tented before him.
“And?”
I shook my head.
“There was no sign of any puncture as in the case of Simon Hardcastle. And the death was entirely due to exposure. In other words, natural causes. So those strange marks round the body must have been made by some beast after he died.”
My companion cleared his throat with a thin rasping noise in the silence of the room.
“As I suspected. But I am glad to receive such official confirmation.”
Mulvane had stopped what he was doing and was listening intently to our conversation.
“So there was no connection whatsoever with those weird tales that got about the village.”
Pons gave him a mysterious smile.
“But someone who came across the body decided to capitalise on the circumstances to spread the rumour. As I have said there is a very clever brain behind all this.”
“Or some thing, Pons,” I pointed out.
He shook his head.
“Once more you are wide of the mark, old fellow. There is nothing supernatural about these mysterious happenings, believe me.”