He chuckled to himself and centered the beam of his flashlight onto a wooden trapdoor in the ceiling. I then saw that the padlock which secured the hasp of the trap had a key in its lock.
"Just as I thought," said Pons calmly.
He tested it carefully.
"The lock is well-oiled too. I fancy the sealed spire is not so little-trodden or such sacred ground as Mrs. Harbinger fancies."
He threw open the trap, fumbling inside on the floor. He found a heavy metal switch and yellow light flooded onto the narrow stair.
"Every modern convenience, Parker," said Pons, ascending into the chamber above.
"Be careful, Pons," I said, pressing up the ladder behind him.
As I groped my way into the small, boarded room beneath the church spire, Pons's tall figure was standing immobile in the center of the chamber. Even in his persona as Dr. Campbell, I had never seen my old friend look so somber and so grim. I followed his gaze round the walls and could not suppress an exclamation of horror.
The sealed spire was indeed bare of such treasures as Mrs. Harbinger had indicated. Dust there was, on the floor and on the sheeted masses of old furniture which stood here and there against the walls. But it was not these simple domestic details which engrossed my attention. Round the walls, pinned and pasted to the paneling, there were lettering, sheets of paper, photographs and drawings. They all had two things in common: each item concerned the rector of Shap; and each without exception was obscene and pornographic
"Great Heavens, Pons!" I exclaimed. "The man must be mad."
Pons shook his head, his face like iron.
"Scandalous, Parker. I quite agree."
I went over to look at a photograph which certainly featured Dr. Campbell and two naked women.
"What are we to do, Pons?"
"What else, Parker? We must burn this sick rubbish, except for a few items which I shall select to keep as evidence. I fancy we shall be receiving visitors within the hour so we have not too much time."
There was an urgency in his voice which I had seldom heard. He was already at work tearing down the material from the walls and from off the furniture. I went to assist him, hardly believing the evidence of my eyes.
"But did you suspect Dr. Campbell when he came to us, Pons?"
Solar Pons clicked his tongue with annoyance and shook his head.
"My dear Parker, you surely do not think Dr. Campbell is responsible for this blasphemous display of perverted taste? Learn to use your faculties. This is entirely in keeping with what we have already learned. The piece de resistance, as it were, of a very clever person's hatred."
I stood bewildered.
"But these photographs, Pons?"
"The merest fakes, Parker. Even you must surely see that studio portraits of Dr. Campbell have been superimposed onto these pornographic statues."
"I am glad to hear it, but if Dr. Campbell is not responsible; what is behind all this?"
"There is no time now, Parker. Tear down the rest of those sheets."
Quickly, Pons selected certain material and thrust it into the traveling bag he still carried. Then he dragged out a metal tray from the side of the room on which reposed an old oil stove. Within a few minutes we had burned the offending documents and other photographs piecemeal and, apart from the smoke hanging in the air, the chamber again appeared normal.
Pons rose to his feet and pushed the tray back into the side of the room again. He glanced at his watch.
"We have some twenty minutes, Parker. When I have descended to the church, I want you to switch off the light and remain here in the dark for a few minutes. I am going now, to walk to the station."
"To the station, Pons?"
Solar Pons nodded.
"At precisely nine o'clock I shall make a public appearance as Dr. Campbell I shall cross the churchyard with a flashlight, making as much noise as I can, I shall then ascend to this chamber, when you will switch on the light. We will then await events and, if I am not very much mistaken, we shall swiftly receive some visitors."
I had hardly grasped this and, quite bewildered, completed tidying the room, before Pons had clattered off down the staircase. I waited until I heard him gain the floor of the church and then switched off the light, settling down in the darkness to await his return.
8
The tower shuddered and shook as the carillon in the bell chamber below boomed out the hour of nine. Almost as the last quivering stroke died away into silence, there came the thunderous crash of the main church door below and then the footsteps of Pons in the persona of Dr. Campbell, hurrying down the aisle. Three minutes later I had switched on the light, and Solar Pons was smiling at me over the edge of the trapdoor.
"Quickly, Parker. We have little time to lose."
No sooner had he gained the floor of the sealed spire chamber than he was stripping himself of his disguise. I was kept busy putting his discarded clothing into the traveling bag. It was precisely three minutes more before once again the familiar figure of Solar Pons stood before me. He put his hand to his lips to enjoin silence.
But I had already caught the noise; many footsteps across the flagged paving of the churchyard; the murmur of voices; and the rumble as the front door of the church went back again. Pons stood rubbing his thin fingers, a little smile of triumph on his face.
"A few moments more, Parker," he whispered, "and we shall see what we shall see."
The confused babble of voices grew stronger and there was a trembling vibration on the wooden staircase. At Pons's gesture I stood well back while my friend concealed
himself behind a dusty chest of drawers which stood at one side of the room. In a few seconds the black-haired figure of Isaac Dabson appeared in the opening. He was pushed into the room by the sheer pressure of people behind him. I caught a glimpse of the triumphant and bizarre figure of Mrs. Harbinger; there were two men with cameras and behind them, insistently pushing their way into the sealed spire, still more strangers, presumably people from the village.
By now Isaac Dabson had caught sight of me and his jaw dropped. He looked wildly around the dusty walls, his eyes open in surprise.
"Where is the rector?" he cried. "What does this mean?"
"It means that your little game is up!" said Solar Pons sternly, stepping out from the shadow and confronting the group. "The rector is in London at the conference. My name is Solar Pons. It is perhaps not unknown to you."
Dabson's face was a mixture of chagrin and fear. He drew apart from the people who were still pushing their way up from the staircase.
"Solar Pons!"
Dabson's face was a white mask, but Mrs. Harbinger had elbowed her way to the front and stood glaring at Pons. She sniffed the air and then looked suspiciously at the heap of ashes on the metal tray in the corner.
"The Great Scroll of Thoth! You have not burned the treasures of the ages?"
"No, madam," said Pons imperturbably. have merely disposed of some malicious rubbish set to ensnare an innocent man. Ah, gentlemen, I see we have some cameras present. I do not know what Mr. Dabson has told you but I fear you may be disappointed."
A thickset man wearing a black homburg and carrying a heavy plate camera could not restrain his indignation.
"Hooper of the Shap and Stapleford Chronicle" he said, casting a sullen glance at the secretary.
"Where is this sensation you promised us, Mr. Dabson?"
"I fear there is no sensation in the sealed spire," said Pons mildly. "Other than that likely to be engendered when Mr. Dabson and I have had a little discussion in private."
"I have nothing to say to you," said Dabson, pulling himself together.
Pons shrugged.