Mulvane was already in the hall when I saw Pons descending the stairs. After greeting the two newcomers, whom Mulvane led rapidly to the fire, Pons drew me aside and lowered his voice.
“Whatever happens this evening or whatever I say, please, on no account, my dear fellow, express surprise. I will explain all a little later. Also, be prepared for a little expedition this evening. We may need your revolver, so bring it along. I have already filled a Whisky flask, courtesy of our host. Now all I need is to bait the trap. Before the night is over I hope to unravel some major skeins in this tangle at least. I have formulated my theories and tonight will prove or disprove them.”
“I trust it will be the former, Pons,” I said gravely.
“Let us hope so. Now, let us join the others.”
Tolpuddle was already serving hot punch from a silver bowl and a sombre group was slowly transformed into a more cheerful assembly, though when Mrs Peters arrived a few minutes later, a hush fell upon her entrance. Although still a beautiful woman her recent ordeal had marked her indelibly, and there were deep shadows beneath her eyes. Pons studied her closely and when Mulvane ventured some remark expressing deep regret, she drew herself up and said in a firm voice, “I appreciate the kindness of you all, but I beg you to make this occasion as normal and as cheerful as possible. What is past is past and nothing can change it. I have no wish to be the skeleton at the feast.”
“You will never be that, Sarita,” said Miss Masterson impulsively, moving to her side and the two women, both beautiful in their own fashion, briefly brushed cheeks.
When we eventually went into dinner the conversation was more animated and without reserve, and now and again small bursts of discreet laughter passed round the table, even Sarita Peters joining in from time to time.
As far as I was concerned the evening seemed to pass in a dream-like fashion. The conversation went mostly over my head and I responded mechanically, whenever anyone asked me a direct question on a specific point of interest. The terrible events at Chalcroft Manor seemed to be temporarily forgotten for my mind was taken up with Pons’ mysterious activities today and even the excellent food seemed dry and tasteless in my mouth. Pons seemed to sense this for he gave me a sympathetic glance from time to time and skilfully turned the conversation away from my end of the table though the assembled company were completely unaware of this.
The meal ended in just over an hour and when we were all gathered round the fire in the Great Hall for a nightcap, the conversation took a different turn. In a sudden silence Pons said quietly, “I know you will all be interested to hear that Mr Mulvane has been disturbed at not being able to discover old Mr Hardcastle’s will. He is the rightful heir to the estate, of course, as his uncle had often told him, but the relevant document cannot be found. Today I cabled his solicitor, Mr Tanner, in Bermuda and I got a reply to say that he had no knowledge of the will and nothing had been filed in his office. No such will has been deposited at Somerset House, for I have checked.”
A ripple of interest had run round the circle of faces in the dancing firelight at Pons’ words. Miss Masterson was the first to break the deep hush which had fallen. She leaned forward in her chair next to Mulvane, her eyes eagerly searching my companion’s face.
“Just what exactly does this mean, Mr Pons?”
“An evident impasse, my dear young lady. But for one thing. Mr Mulvane and I have discovered a letter in a recess in Mr Hardcastle’s desk in the study today. It was a somewhat bizarre document, but I gather from our gracious host that it was all a part of his uncle’s peculiar character.”
I noticed that Tolpuddle was standing in the shadows by the door, his body straining forward to catch the import of Pons’ words. Nobody spoke and then my friend went on.
“This letter indicated that the will was in a deed box at the top of the ruined tower on the estate. I believe it is known as The Folly, according to an old map.”
“A sort of treasure hunt,” Mulvane put in.
Pons nodded.
“I went up there this afternoon but I could not find anything specific. All those ancient blocks of stone are bonded and in remarkable condition for such an early structure. But it is good to get some better news and a glimmer of light in this terrible affair. With Mr Mulvane’s permission I am going to get up a mason from the village tomorrow morning and have some of these stones removed. If we are successful and we find the box then Mr Mulvane will have a clear title to his inheritance.”
There was a sudden murmur from the guests as he finished speaking and as I glanced up I saw that Tolpuddle had left his position in the shadows and was gliding silently through the door. Half an hour later the guests had departed with many thanks and interested questions that Mulvane had some difficulty in answering.
When he returned to the hall Pons put his finger to his lips to enjoin silence and sprang to his feet, his lithe figure vibrating with energy.
“We will give it half an hour,” he said softly.
“What does this mean, Mr Pons?”
“Ah, so you are still in the dark, Mr Mulvane. I have baited the trap, as I have indicated to my friend Parker here. Now we must see what comes to the net.”
“Whom do you suspect, Pons?” I could not resist asking.
“Everyone, Parker. The estate workers. Someone with a grudge in the village. We must not forget those poisonous rumours which were spread about you, Mr Mulvane.”
“But not our guests, surely? Or my own household staff?”
“We have a good selection, Mr Mulvane. Please carry out your normal routine before retiring. I would appreciate a key to the front door, as Parker and I may be in for a long vigil.”
“Good heavens, sir! You do not propose going out on such a night?”
“It is absolutely vital, Mr Mulvane, if we are to clear this up.”
He turned swiftly to me.
“Now, Parker, your revolver if you please. And wrap up warmly. I have the Whisky flask in my overcoat pocket. I see a thick scarf on the stand yonder, Mr Mulvane. I wonder if I might borrow it.”
“By all means, Mr Pons. And I will make sure the front door is left unbolted, though locked. I will fetch a spare key from my study if you will give me a moment.”
When I returned dressed for outdoors, with the butt of the revolver comfortingly against my hand, I found Pons already muffled and armed with a thick walking stick.
Two minutes more and we had said goodbye to our host, who locked the door behind us, and were striding out through the encroaching mist with the warmly lit windows of the manor sliding backward behind us until they were lost in the eerie whiteness as we pressed on to our lonely vigil.
Twenty-Two: NIGHT ON THE TOWER
After a few minutes’ brisk walk across the icy surface of the lane Pons began to swing round in a wide circle to avoid the stable area and the dimly-lit windows of the cottages. Soon we had cautiously skirted the edges of the ponds and were nearing our destination, the breath smoking from our mouths.
“I still do not know why you did not take me into your confidence,” I whispered.
Pons replied, “You are so straightforward and transparent in everything you do, that you might have given things away by your demeanour. You would probably have been thinking all evening about the announcement I was going to make. This is not a criticism, Parker, but a tribute to your character. And you know that you are a very bad actor when it comes to concealing your true feelings.”