Lady Mary acknowledged the introduction with an abstracted inclination of her head and again turned her attention to Pons. For all her poise and the fact that she was in her own house she reminded me of nothing so much as a small animal menaced by a snake. Something of the same sort had evidently occurred to Pons, for he relaxed his manner somewhat and said gently, "You have no reason to fear me, Lady Mary."
There was a strange expression in Lady Mary Hawthorne's eyes as she stared at Pons.
"We shall see, Mr. Pons, we shall see. Your presence here bodes no good."
Pons drew himself up and put out his hand in a commanding gesture.
"Ah, there you do me injustice, Lady Mary. I am here to do good and to right wrong. If it is any scrap of satisfaction to you, I agree that Elihu Cook Stanmore was the biggest blackguard and the most unmitigated scoundrel who ever walked in shoe leather."
Lady Mary had grown deathly pale and then lay back in her chair, her rapid breathing betraying her agitation.
"I see that all is known, Mr. Pons. My letters…"
"Are in safe hands, Lady Mary."
Pons drew forth a bundle of blue envelopes tied with pink tape. Lady Mary half rose from the chair, her right hand plucking at her throat. She made a gesture as if she would snatch them from my companion.
"You have read them?"
Her voice was so low as to be almost inaudible.
Pons shook his head.
"A few paragraphs only of the top letter, which the police had already opened. That and the signature."
Lady Mary's breath went out in a sigh of relief. She rose to her feet.
"Let us understand this, Mr. Pons. I am not ashamed of those letters. They were written to a man with whom I was very much in love and who was killed while serving as a pilot with the Royal Flying Corps in the late war."
Solar Pons inclined his head
"I am indeed sorry."
A little smile was playing round Lady Mary's lips.
"They are passionate love letters, Mr. Pons; I have no compunction admitting it. Their recipient was a man to whom I had given myself wholly and without reserve, physically and spiritually. We would have been married had he survived the war."
"There is no need to tell me this, Lady Mary."
"I would like you to know, Mr. Pons."
"Why did you pay this man Stanmore, Lady Mary? Surely His Grace is too big a man to bother with what is past. Had Stanmore placed this material in his hands, he would simply have handed the letters to you or burned them unread, surely?"
Lady Mary shook her head.
"You misunderstand me, Mr. Pons. I had no fears for Hugo. But his family is one of the proudest and most stiff- backed in the whole of England. His mother in particular. One breath of scandal and the engagement would have been broken off. Believe me, Mr. Pons, that creature Stanmore would have sent these letters direct to my fiancée’s mother. And the shattering of the engagement would have broken Hugo's heart I was not prepared to risk it"
Pons stood deep in thought for a moment. Then he reached out and took Lady Mary's hand. He placed the bundle of letters within it.
"No doubt these memories are fragrant, Lady Mary. You may wish to keep these in a safe place where you treasure such intimate thoughts."
Lady Mary's eyes were wide as she stared at Pons.
"And the price, Mr. Pons?"
Solar Pons shook his head.
"Some things are beyond price, Lady Mary. All I ask is some information which may lead me to the murderer of Stanmore."
Lady Mary was silent for a moment Her lips curved in a smile of great sweetness and simplicity.
"I greatly appreciate your generosity, Mr. Pons. But even so your price is higher than you may know. As you have undoubtedly obtained a list of Stanmore's victims, may I suggest that you have a word with Hugo himself?"
Pons gave our hostess a shrewd glance.
"I had intended to do so, Lady Mary. And thank you for your gracious suggestion."
He consulted a scrap of paper he took from the buff envelope.
"Lady Mary Hawthorne; the duke of Leinster; His Grace the duke of Swaffham; the Honorable Timothy Drexell, M.P.; the Baron Bedale; the duchess of Ware… the list is indeed a noble not to say distinguished one. And when one finds a number of fingerprints on the knife and six golden doubloons, it really gives one pause to think."
Pons's wide smile matched Lady Mary's own.
"I believe you know a great deal more than would appear, Mr. Pons."
"It may be, Lady Mary, it may be," murmured Pons. "But Dr. Parker and I have much to do."
Lady Mary's face was thoughtful as the balanced the bundle of letters in her tiny hand.
"You really are a most remarkable man, Mr. Pons. May I wish you success in your quest And my deepest thanks."
Pons stooped a moment as he kissed the tips of our hostess's fingers.
"Thank you, Lady Mary. And felicitations on your forthcoming marriage, which I am sure will be happy and long- lived. Good day."
We were crossing the floor and had almost reached the door when Lady Mary called Pons back.
"You will not find the duke in town, Mr. Pons. He is at his country lodge in Sussex. He will be there for the remainder of this week."
"Thank you, Lady Mary. I will take the liberty of calling upon him tomorrow. No doubt you will have a message conveyed to him."
"I will do that, Mr. Pons. And thank you again."
A few moments later we were outside in the sunshine. Pons laughed as he strode down the steps.
"Magnificent, was she not, Parker?"
"Undoubtedly, Pons," I replied. "But I must confess I have not been able to make much of the conversation."
"Have you not, Parker? Well, perhaps we could run over a few salient points after Mrs. Johnson's excellent supper this evening."
5
Our apartment at 7B Praed Street was blue with smoke. I got up from the table and significantly opened one of the long windows, letting in the cool air of the summer evening.
"Really, Pons!" I protested. "This is becoming intolerable."
"Is it not," he retorted languidly. "Six doubloons, a cyanose condition, several fingerprints, and at least a dozen noble blackmail clients."
"You know very well what I mean, Pons," I replied, looking pointedly at Pons's reeking pipe as I came back to the table. "That infernal thing should be smoked only in the open air."
"On the contrary," said Solar Pons with a smile glinting from behind the stem, "the atmosphere it engenders concentrates the thoughts, sharpens the mind, and has a practical application inasmuch as it asphyxiates the mosquitoes."
"And with them your old and valued friend, Dr. Lyndon Parker," I said with some asperity.
Pons removed the pipe from his mouth and broke into a laugh.
"Forgive me, my dear fellow. I must confess this is rather a burner. It was, as you may remember, a souvenir of one of my most bizarre cases."
"That of Jethro Stringer, the Mad Corinthian of Netherhampton," I reminded him.
"One of a presentation set as a gift from his grateful son-in-law, Wednesday Lovelace," Pons murmured.
"His intended final victim," I said. "The only one who stood between Stringer and a million-pound fortune."
"Nevertheless, Parker, before you are carried away on a wave of nostalgic reminiscence, allow me to recall you briefly to the present."
"Really, Pons, you began it…" I commenced when I was interrupted by the shrilling of the telephone in the passage outside. A moment later Mrs. Johnson appeared.
"Superintendent Heathfield, Mr. Pons."
Pons went out and for the next few minutes I could hear his murmured questions and responses from behind the thick door. Pons's pipe burned on heedlessly on a corner of the table, and I removed it to the safety of a glass vase near the window. I had no sooner resumed my seat than Pons was back, his lean face alight with excitement. He rubbed his thin fingers together and sat down opposite me.