"It must be Rutherford when we visit Mrs. Harbinger, Parker. I do beg of you to be on your guard, my dear fellow. And now, Dr. Campbell, allow me to pass you another slice of this delicious toast before I subject you to any more questions."
4
After tea Pons spent half an hour immersed in Crockford's, making notes from time to time and checking with Dr. Campbell on those former colleagues who were deceased or overseas. His lips were set in a firm line and his brow frowning so that I knew better than to interrupt him. I passed the time smoking by the fire, and our present circumstances were so cheerful compared with the coldness of the weather outside that it was a considerable effort to turn out again when we accompanied Dr. Campbell to the station to catch the 6:30 P.M. train. The bloom of the gas lamps gilded the sparse white locks of our client as he stood at the carriage window to bid us good-bye.
"Make yourselves at home, gentlemen," he said. "I shall be away three days and shall, I trust, have good news of you on my return."
"Two days should see this business through, Rector," said Pons with a thin smile.
We waited until the anxious face of our client was no more than a blur in the darkness, and Pons then led the way briskly up the platform and back toward the village. The rain had held off but the wind was cold and bleak in the extreme. I carried our traveling bag but I was puzzled to see that Pons still had a large holdall he had brought from the rectory.
I had assumed it was part of our client's luggage but Pons had retained it on the platform. He did not volunteer any information and it did not seem as though it contained anything of great importance. A walk of a few hundred yards only brought us to the Blue Boar, an imposing establishment with a white Georgian portico. There we secured two comfortable rooms in the names of Rutherford and Parker.
I had no sooner unpacked our scanty belongings before Pons was tapping on my door.
"Now, Parker," he said, his eyes dancing. "Best foot forward. First to Mrs. Harbinger's, then back to the rectory. And remember I am Rutherford all the while I am within the environs of Shap."
"I will try to remember, Pons," I said stiffly.
A few minutes later we were ringing the doorbell of The House upon the Green. Mrs. Harbinger was at home and a trim parlormaid showed us into an oak-paneled drawing room and went to announce us to her mistress.
Mrs. Harbinger turned out to be an imposing-looking woman of about seventy with snow-white hair and heavily rouged cheeks. The effect was bizarre against the whiteness of her complexion She wore a strange-looking gown, mauve in color, belted in at the waist like that of a medieval chatelaine. Around her neck was suspended a gold chain bearing a curiously shaped gold locket.
"Well, gentlemen," she snapped. "State your business. I am an extremely busy woman."
Pons wasted no time in coming to the point.
"My name is Rutherford. This is my partner, Mr. Parker. We are Rutherford and Parker, one of the most respected firms of antique dealers and appraisers in the West End of London." '
Mrs. Harbinger sucked in her breath and her eyes had become shrewd. She looked around at the valuable antiques that adorned her drawing room as though she were afraid we would abstract them.
"What is that to me?"
Pons smiled winningly.
"Not a great deal, evidently, madam. But we are staying with the rector of Shap across the green yonder. He is an old friend and we are making an inventory of some of his pieces. I was interested in gaining access to the sealed spire since I had heard something of the legends about it. Dr. Campbell does not seem too keen on the subject, but I understood you were something of an authority on the matter."
An amazing change had come over Mrs. Harbinger; she took a step forward and raised one clawlike hand in the air.
"Sit down, gentlemen, sit down. Anyone who can assist that obdurate man in opening the spire and, by so doing, benefiting England has my full support."
Pons lowered himself into the rocking chair indicated by our hostess.
"Some sherry, gentlemen?"
Pons graciously assented and while Mrs. Harbinger was busy with a decanter and glasses, deliberately lowered one of his eyelids at me in a most provocative manner. When we were sipping delicately at the sherry and making appropriately appreciative comments on its mellow flavor, Mrs. Harbinger had been studying us intently.
"What do you hope to find in the spire, gentlemen? Antiques? I fear you will be disappointed."
"Oh, so you know what it contains?"
Our strange hostess nodded.
"Documents, gentlemen. Not objets d'art. But documents of such richness and distinction that the whole world will recognize the importance of the sealed spire."
The long form of Pons stirred uneasily in the rocker.
"I do not quite follow you, madam."
Mrs. Harbinger gave my companion a weary look, followed by an audible clicking of the tongue.
"The Great Scroll of Thoth, the Golden Book of Horns, the Twelve Pentameters of Ishtar are only a few of the priceless treasures concealed within the chamber of the sealed spire, Mr. Rutherford."
"Indeed!" said Pons, raising his eyebrows.
Mrs. Harbinger clicked her tongue again.
"I can see you are an unbeliever, sir."
"Not at all," interjected Pons hastily. "It is just that it is rather difficult to see how such gems of wisdom could have become concealed in such a manner."
The impatient look had not left Mrs. Harbinger's face.
"It is too long a story to go into now. You must just take it from me that my researches have yielded up incontrovertible proof. If you can assist me to gain access to the spire, I will be incalculably in your debt."
Pons held up a hand deprecatingly.
"I cannot promise anything, Mrs. Harbinger. But I can assure you that my partner, Mr. Parker, and I will use our best offices to those ends."
A gleam of malicious triumph had appeared in the mauve-gowned woman's eyes.
"Very well, Mr. Rutherford. You will not find me ungrateful When can you let me know?"
"Within the next few days, Mrs. Harbinger."
Our hostess stood up, a calculating look on her face. It was plain the interview was at an end. I hastily drained my sherry and a few moments later, after more protestations on Pons's part in his assumed role of Rutherford, we found ourselves outside again and striding back across the green to the rectory. Pons chuckled as soon as we were out of earshot.
"What do you make of her, Parker?"
"Mad," I said vehemently. "Like this whole business."
Pons's brows were knitted.
"Ah, then you can see no pattern emerging?"
I shook my head.
"None of it makes sense to me, Pons, if you want my candid opinion."
"Nevertheless, there is a strand of sanity here, amid the apparently inconsequential trappings of this affair," he said mysteriously.
He chuckled again.
"Even allowing for the current interest in Egyptology, I fear Mrs. Harbinger will be disappointed by the contents of the sealed spire if our client's remarks are to be believed. Cobwebs and old furniture, was it not, according to Dr. Campbell?"
We had gained the rectory porch by this time and Mrs.
Jenkin admitted us with a smile. She ensconced us in the rector's study and, with the warming announcement that supper would be served at half-past nine, withdrew to leave us to our own devices.
Once again Pons sat at the rector's desk, busy with his notations and the photograph of Dr. Campbell's theological class of long ago. I had resumed my seat at the fireside, and we sat so in heavy silence for some time. Finally I could keep quiet no longer.
"What do you find so absorbing in that picture, Pons?" I said irritably.