"I am certain that is so," said Pons. "Mr. Dabson has been with you a long while?"
Dr. Campbell inclined his head.
"Almost a year now. He is excellent at his work though I fear he must doubt my sanity sometimes with the events of the past months. I also have a housekeeper who cooks for us, and that completes the ménage at the rectory."
"Just so, Dr. Campbell. Pray continue."
"Well, Mr. Pons," our visitor went on earnestly, "the events of which I am complaining started about six months
ago in the most commonplace way imaginable. I found, on awaking one morning, that my slippers had disappeared from the bedroom. This discommoded me somewhat and it was not until after breakfast that I discovered them. Dab- son had gone into the study to transcribe some of my notes of the day before and found them beneath the cover of his typewriter."
"You were present on that occasion?"
"Yes, indeed, Mr. Pons. I remember we made a joke about it, but young Dabson cast me a curious look. He had just bought the machine — I believe in being up to date in our methods, Mr. Pons — and he caught the buckle of one slipper in the ribbon carrier and was afraid he had damaged it."
'It follows, of course, Dr. Campbell, that you did not yourself consciously place the slippers there?"
Our visitor shook his head vehemently.
"Certainly not, Mr. Pons. And since Mrs. Jenkin and Dabson denied all knowledge of the matter, I was forced to pass it over in a somewhat joking manner. Truth to tell I thought little of it, curious as the circumstance was, and a few days later it had become quite lost to my mind in the absorption of everyday tasks."
"I take it anyone could have removed the slippers from your bedroom?"
"That would not be too difficult, Mr. Pons. And there are a number of parishioners in and out of the house all day in the normal course of events. But for what purpose?"
Solar Pons smiled thinly.
"That is presumably why you have consulted me, my dear sir. I am already intrigued and doubtless you have more to tell me."
Dr. Campbell nodded, his normally benevolent eyes carrying a grim expression.
"As I said, things began in that mild and innocuous manner. But a few days later other articles were missing until it seemed that hardly a week passed without some stupid and pointless abstraction of items I needed for the prosecution of my work. It has got to the stage of absolute persecution, Mr. Pons!"
Dr. Campbell glared belligerently for a moment or two and then relaxed, encouraged perhaps by Pons's alert and concerned expression.
"Pray be more specific, Dr. Campbell."
"Well, sir, not two days following the slipper episode, my notes for a speech before the Royal Society disappeared. I found them eventually in the hands of a statue in the garden. That was but the prelude to a series of farcical and meaningless episodes in which I began to assume the aspect of a laughingstock in the village."
Dr. Campbell sighed and his face bore such a harassed expression that the laughable aspects of his story were quite expunged from my mind.
"My hat disappeared, sir. It reappeared at the top of the church flagpole, in full view of all the village. I opened my briefcase in the pulpit to deliver my sermon and produced instead two kippers in greaseproof paper. They stank, sir, if not exactly to high heaven, at least to the church roof."
Pons stretched himself in his chair and permitted himself a thin smile.
"Dear me, Dr. Campbell, this is distressing indeed. Please continue."
Dr. Campbell wagged his head.
"Well, Mr. Pons, the unfortunate and ridiculous incidents which ensued would make a catalog that would take me all day to relate were I to recall them all. Needless to say no one owned up to the authorship of these strange happenings, and it began to get about the district that the rector was a little odd and absent-minded. That did not bother me at first but the affair has reached such absurd proportions that it has even got to the ears of my bishop. I fear that if the press were to get hold of it, my scholarly work would suffer."
Pons put the tips of his fingers together and leaned forward.
"Just so. I take it more serious things have happened in addition to these rather light-hearted episodes."
Dr. Campbell shot Pons a reproachful glance.
"Light-hearted is perhaps hardly the term I would have used, Mr. Pons," he said disapprovingly. "But I can see how it would look to an outsider."
"But you have not suffered anything other than annoyance and slight inconvenience," Pons persisted.
"That is true, Mr. Pons," returned our visitor. "Perfectly true. But it is a harassment, sir, a perfect harassment. And one which has reached such proportion as to impinge seriously upon both my professional life and my integrity."
My companion's eyes flashed.
"I did not say the affair was trivial, Rector; merely that the incidents you have described appeared so."
Dr. Campbell appeared mollified
"Well, that is certainly so, Mr. Pons, as far as it goes. But there were two more incidents of late which had somewhat more sinister connotations. And then my speech today. That is a serious inconvenience and means I must return to my parish."
"Could you not telephone your secretary?" I asked.
Dr. Campbell shook his head.
"He is away in the north for a few days, visiting his sister. And my housekeeper would not be able to do anything about it. Besides, the text of my address might well be hanging from the bell tower by this time."
He said this with a sibilant drawing-in of his breath and a tilt of his determined jaw that boded distinctly un-Christian thoughts, and a brief silence fell before he resumed.
"The latest incidents?" Pons prompted.
"I ask your pardon, Mr. Pons. These are deep waters for me and my mind has not its usual lucidity. The petty irritations I have spoken of have continued at the rate of about one or two a week for the past six months. Only this past fortnight the pattern has changed."
He sighed heavily.
"I mentioned earlier my duties as rural dean. One of them consists of delivering an annual address at the Church of St. Mary's at Stapleford. This is in connection with a Conference of Diocesan Candidates — I am sure I need not bother you with the details, gentlemen. There is bound to be a dreadful scandal over this."
He looked somberly at Pons.
"Among the congregation was an old friend, the rector of Channock in Yorkshire. He is inordinately fond of cats. Sheba, his favorite Persian invariably travels with him. I had brought my bag with me. I have it here."
Here our visitor's eyes flickered to his lap. "Truth to tell, it felt inordinately heavy. I put my hand in it to find the notes for my speech when I was surprised to encounter fur. Not to put too much strain on your patience, Mr. Pons, imagine my horror when I drew forth not my notes, but the corpse of Pattenden's favorite cat. Strangled, sir, with a length of wire. The conference broke up in uproar; I was almost assaulted by Pattenden; sadist and murderer were among the terms flung at me; and I made, in addition to Pattenden, a number of enemies for life!"
Dr. Campbell lapsed into silence again. I glanced at Pons and saw that his expression had changed. The alertness was still in his eyes, but there was something else there; compassion and understanding.
"A frightful experience, Dr. Campbell," he said gently. "I believe I recall a paragraph or two in the newspapers."