"That is Mrs. Harbinger's residence, gentlemen."
"I think I shall pay the lady a visit later in the day," said Pons, glancing at the bulk of the church behind us. "I have a fancy to hear firsthand her thoughts on the sealed spire."
"By all means," said the rector somewhat uncertainly. "But it is a pleasure I fear I must forgo. I have had enough of the lady's thoughts on the subject to last me a lifetime."
Pons and I exchanged an ironic glance, and then we had turned to follow Dr. Campbell up a narrow paved path that arched between twin lawns to the facade of a gracious Georgian house adjoining the church on its far side.
We were met in the hallway by a pleasant, middle-aged woman with a worried face.
"Ah, Mrs. Jenkin," said our host. "This is a good friend of mine, Mr…"
"Rutherford, at your service," interrupted Pons smoothly, ignoring the rector's startled look. "This is my partner, Mr. Parker. We are antique dealers, come to appraise some of Dr. Campbell's rarer pieces."
The rector had recovered himself by now and his eyes were glinting behind his gold-rimmed glasses.
"Of course. I should have warned you of this visit, Mrs. Jenkin, but it had quite slipped my mind."
The housekeeper gave her employer a sharp look and then smiled at us.
"Will the gentlemen be staying to tea? I take it you'll want it at the usual time."
"Yes, Mrs. Jenkin, in about an hour. I have had to return unexpectedly but shall be returning to town on the early evening train."
"Very well, Rector."
Mrs. Jenkin disappeared about her duties as we followed Dr. Campbell down the hall and into his study, a big room lined with leather-bound books, in which a cheerful fire was burning.
"I thought it best not to advertise my presence here, Rector," said Pons, looking around the room keenly. "If we are to help you, that is."
"You know best, Mr. Pons," said Dr. Campbell diffidently. "Though I am sure you would be more comfortable here."
"Parker and I will be more free if we stay at the inn for one or two nights," said Pons.
He looked at the traveling bag which I had put down in a corner of the study.
"We have brought things for a short stay, and I do not anticipate this business will take more than a couple of days."
"I am very glad to hear you say so, Mr. Pons," said the rector, crossing to sit in an easy chair by the fire. "Please regard the rectory as your own. Dabson is away and Mrs. Jenkin is most accommodating and easygoing. If you need meals or anything during the day, you have only to ask her."
"That is very good of you," said Pons, inclining his head. "If you will excuse me."
He went round the study with quick, catlike movements, stabbing glances at the shelves, now and then taking down a book. He was particularly interested in the rector's big mahogany desk, which was set in a corner near the window overlooking the green. He walked around a smaller desk between the window and the fire, on which a hooded typewriter stood.
"This is where Mr. Dabson works?"
"Yes, Mr. Pons. I fear he is a somewhat chilly mortal and prefers to be nearer the fire. I find the spot near the window suits me better."
"Quite so."
Pons was over near the rector's desk again, scrutinizing the photographs and prints which hung on the wall I had removed my coat by this time and went to sit opposite the rector near the fire, observing Pons's movements and keeping my own counsel
"What do you make of this, Parker?"
I went quickly over to join him. Pons had indicated a photograph of a group of young men who sat in formal stiffness on chairs in long rows, against the ivy-covered background of some venerable pile. There were names printed on the photographic mount, identifying those in the group. The picture was so old that it was quite yellowed by time, but it was nevertheless remarkably clear. To my astonishment Pons got out his magnifying glass and was studying the faces carefully.
"With your permission, Rector."
So saying he removed the picture from the wall As he did so he gave a muffled exclamation. I went to his side, stooping to pick up the thick sheaf of typescript stapled together which had slipped from behind the picture. Pons took it from me, studying it, his brows set in firm, corrugated lines.
"Your missing address if I am not much mistaken, Dr. Campbell."
The rector crossed to us with swift strides. He took the material, his hands trembling with suppressed anger. He bit his lip and looked at Pons diffidently. My companion laid his hand upon his arm.
"Have no fear, Rector. Your wits are not in question so far as I am concerned. These are deep waters, Parker."
Dr. Campbell smiled hesitantly and then turned to the fireside, slipping the notes in his briefcase, which he proceeded to lock. I went back toward the fire with Pons as he placed the picture upward on the secretary's desk, near the fire.
"Now, Parker, give me your opinion."
I searched the rows of faces hesitantly. Pons's hand obscured the printed legend at the base of the frame.
"Why that is surely the rector," I said, indicating a young man of about thirty who sat in the front row of the group, eyes slightly closed against the sunlight. Dr. Campbell had joined us.
"Quite right, Dr. Parker," the rector said wryly. "Theological college. A long time ago now, I am afraid."
He turned the frame over, looking for the label on the back.
"Dear me," he said softly. "I see it was taken in 1880. How time flies!"
Pons gave me a quizzical look in which wry humor was mingled.
"Quite so, Dr. Campbell. I have a fancy for such historic photographs. With your permission I will borrow it for a while. I have the names underneath and intend to do a little research in Crockford's later."
The rector looked puzzled; indeed, his blank-faced incomprehension must have matched my own, though he said nothing but went to a small collection of books on his desk and came back with the requisite volume. He looked nostalgically at the picture again.
"Many of them are gone now, I'm afraid, Mr. Pons. At least two in the South African War. And another three in the Great War, you know. Dollond, Carstairs, and Digby. Though they were even then in their fifties, they volunteered to serve as chaplains. A terrible waste, gentlemen."
I joined in Pons's muttered agreement with the rector's sentiments and went back to the fire, considerably puzzled by Pons's interest in the photograph. He spent the next hour roaming restlessly about Dr. Campbell's study and then, at his own request, ascended to the first-floor bedrooms alone. By the time he rejoined us for tea, which we took in a cheerful side parlor with flowered wallpaper, he was in an inordinately expansive mood, rubbing his thin, sensitive hands together and humming tunelessly under his breath.
"We progress, Parker, we progress," he said. "And when we have seen Dr. Campbell off on his train, I have one or two little experiments to make."
"I must confess, Pons," I commenced with some irritation, when my companion stopped me by laying a warning finger alongside his nose. He waited until Mrs. Jenkin had brought fresh toast and withdrawn before he broke the silence again.
"I must impress you, Parker, that I am Rutherford during our short stay in Shap. It is of the utmost importance that you remember this if we are to do any good. If the person responsible for the mischief against the rector knows that we are here, he will go to ground and we shall lose a golden opportunity."
"I am sorry, Pons," I said contritely, aware of my faux pas too late and that Dr. Campbell's beaming eyes were turned upon me.
Pons's lips were set in a hard line as he regarded me severely.