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Solar Pons stirred at the desk. He held up the photograph.

"It contains the clue to the whole problem, Parker."

"You must be joking, Pons!"

My companion shook his head.

"Just come here a moment."

I crossed to his side, looking at the yellowed faces of those young men of the South African War and the Great War in silence.

"Well, Pons?"

"Allowing for the fallen, those deceased and those removed to other countries, there are seven who might be suitable for my purposes. But only one within striking distance."

He tapped the glass covering the photograph.

The Reverend George Seville Stoner, rector of Chislington, some twenty miles from here."

I stared at the picture of the hook-nosed, lantern-jawed young man with piercing eyes in silence.

"None of this makes sense to me, Pons."

"Nevertheless, Parker, I commend the Reverend Mr. Stoner to your attention," said my friend enigmatically.

5

We were standing so when the front door slammed. Immediately, Pons motioned me to silence. We were once again sitting on either side of the fireplace, the picture back in its place on the wall, when the study door opened and the startled form of a young man stood framed in the opening.

"I beg your pardon, gentlemen, I had no idea…"

"Come in, Mr. Dabson," said Pons, rising. "I am afraid Dr. Campbell did not see fit to tell you of our visit. You have returned unexpectedly, I see."

The secretary flushed.

"Isaac Dabson, at your service, gentlemen. Any friends of Dr. Campbell's…"

Pons rose from the fireside and I followed suit as he Introduced us to Dabson in our assumed identities.

"You must forgive us for usurping your quarters," said Pons, waving the secretary to a chair. "We can easily withdraw if you so desire."

"I would not hear of it," Dabson protested. "I found the north rather dull and came back a few days early."

"You had rather a dusty journey, I see," said Pons pleasantly, stepping forward to brush some cobwebs from the collar of the secretary's jacket. Once again the black- haired man flushed.

"I have just been across to the church to consult some documents in the vestry," he said hurriedly.

"Quite so," said Pons. "We hope to have that pleasure tomorrow. We are antique dealers and appraisers from London, you see. The Reverend Dr. Campbell is a personal friend of long standing and asked us to put a value on some of his older pieces."

The secretary relaxed in his chair.

"Indeed, Mr. Rutherford. Well, I am sure that if you are friends of Dr. Campbell's, everything is in order. When do you expect him back?"

"He intends to break off from the conference and return tomorrow night," said Pons smoothly. "It is this business of the sealed spire. Mrs. Harbinger's persistence has rather worn him down, I fear. He told me this evening that he will open the sealed spire once and for all to scotch these rumors she is spreading about the village.". The secretary's pale face bore a strange, almost furtive expression. For a brief space, this hook-nosed young man with the wild eyes reminded me of something, though I could not quite place it in the stress of the moment. I gazed at Pons open-mouthed, I fear. But the secretary had recovered himself by now.

"Ah, well, perhaps it might be for the best," he said affably. "Dr. Campbell has, I know, antagonized some of the local people over his attitude toward the spire. And I must confess, gentlemen, that he has been acting most peculiarly of late."

Pons nodded.

"We are staying at the Blue Boar, Mr. Dabson. The rector will be telephoning me there tomorrow. I will get Mr. Parker to let you know whether Dr. Campbell is returning or not."

Dabson gave Pons a slight bow; there was an ironic expression in his eyes.

"That is indeed good of you, gentlemen. And now, if you will forgive me, I will seek my quarters. It has been a long and tiring journey."

Pons smiled pleasantly.

"By all means, Mr. Dabson. Good night."

He stood immobile until the door had closed softly behind the retreating form of the secretary. Then he crossed to the fire and dropped back into his chair.

"A cool customer, our Mr. Dabson," he observed. "Now, what do you make of all this, Parker? You have all the threads in your hands."

"Well, Mr. Rutherford, it seems fairly obvious that the rector is being persecuted," I said. "And it seems equally obvious that the vindictiveness of Mrs. Harbinger is behind it"

Pons stared at me thoughtfully, his fingers tented before him.

"You improve, Parker. A distinct improvement."

"I thought you would see the logic of my argument, Pons."

Solar Pons shook his head impatiently.

"I meant that you had managed to remember my nom de plume," he said severely. "As for the rest of your thesis, you are sadly off the track. Do you not see the significance of the photograph? And the fairly obvious motive behind these apparently insane happenings?"

I shook my head.

"Mark my words, Pons. This Mrs. Harbinger is obviously unhinged."

"A fair assessment, Parker. But she is being used by the cunning instrument behind all this. There is the touch of a master-hand somewhere here. Someone who is actuating the puppets from afar."

"At any rate, there is little more we can do tonight," I said. "Supper will be ready shortly. Have you see the Times?"

I passed Pons that authoritative journal, and he had no sooner settled with it in his chair than he levered himself upright with a muffled ejaculation, his eyes sparkling.

"There, Parker, there is your motive writ plain."

I stared at the Home News page in bewilderment, running my eye across the single-column headings. They seemed incredibly dulclass="underline" RESULTS OF BOLTON BY-ELECTION; WAR PENSIONS REVIEW; NEW BISHOP OF DURHAM. Then I found what had so obviously excited Pons.

ARREST OF BIRMINGHAM MAN.

CHARGED WITH TRUNK MURDERS.

I read the article with blank incomprehension. Then I put the paper aside.

"I do not see how this can possibly assist us, Pons."

"Do you not, Parker? Well, my dear fellow, leave it for the moment We must not overtax your brain too much this evening."

And with this faintly insulting remark he puffed away at his pipe until Mrs. Jenkin tapped at the door to say that supper was ready and waiting.

6

Pons was out and about a good deal the following day, and I spent most of the time in the lounge of the Blue Boar, for the weather was again inclement and an icy rain was spitting spitefully at the windows of the hostelry. We had an early dinner at six o'clock and just after seven, Pons tapped at the door of my room.

"If you would just step over, Parker, I would like to rehearse you for our little charade this evening."

I followed him back to his own room with rising curiosity.

"Now if you would just pay attention, Parker," said Pons when he had locked the door behind us, "this is the modus operandi At precisely eight o'clock I would like you to present yourself to Mr. Isaac Dabson at the rectory and give him the following message. Tell him that the rector has telephoned through and is on his way home. He will go directly to the church and open the sealed spire. I think we have already established that this is his intention."

"Will Dabson not think this a curious arrangement, Pons?" I protested.

My companion shook his head.

"I think not, Parker. We have both discussed this matter with the rector. Mrs. Harbinger has been on about the spire for years. Dabson has been with the rector for a year and is au fait with the situation. I fancy that your message will have the desired effect."