"You collect Chinese daggers too, I see."
"A foible of an ancestor," replied the duke carelessly. "It is not a branch of the collection with which I have any great affinity."
"One dagger missing, I notice."
The duke's eyes flickered toward mine, and I could have sworn a half-smile lingered about his lips.
"It was lost while the collection was being cleaned last year, I believe. I do not know where it has got to."
"Indeed," said Pons. "When last seen it was adorning the shoulder blades of a gentleman called Elihu Cook Stanmore. It had been driven some twenty-four times into his back."
"Remarkable, Mr. Pons," said the duke of Leinster levelly. "That could not have done a great deal for his health."
"Life was quite extinct," said Pons.
He could not repress a glance of admiration.
"If you do not mind me saying so, Your Grace, you are keeping up an extraordinarily cool exterior in this matter."
The duke put down a cutlass and picked up one of the sabers. He held it pointed toward Pons, a sardonic smile on his face.
"You forget I am a trained diplomat, Mr. Pons. Ah, here is Mrs. Cummings with the coffee and biscuits."
He waited until the elderly woman with the pleasant, motherly features had poured the coffee from a silver- plated pot and quit the room, before he spoke again.
"One lump or two, Mr. Pons? Incidentally, sir, I do not mind admitting that you would have had a very different reception had I not received a telephone call from Lady Mary. I am deeply obliged to you, Mr. Pons, I really am."
There was a faint flush on Pons's cheeks.
"It was a pleasure to be of service to such a gracious lady. Would it be premature to wish you every happiness in your future life together?"
The duke, who wore a green baize apron over a smart light gray suit, bowed, observing, "that is much appreciated, Mr. Pons. I must say my future depends very much on you."
"I am glad you recognize the fact, Your Grace. Would it also me indiscreet of me to ask how the peace talks at Geneva are going?"
The duke looked at Pons steadily, the coffee cup arrested halfway to his lips.
"Very indiscreet, Mr. Pons. But between these four walls and knowing that your close relationship with your brother is not only one of blood, I am happy to say that Great Britain's position is not prejudiced in any way by the operations of Mr. Stanmore."
I had been a silent spectator of this conversation in mounting bewilderment and now I could not withhold my comment.
"I am afraid this is far above my head, Pons. Would one of you mind coming to the point?"
To my surprise the duke of Leinster burst out laughing.
"You have my sympathy, doctor."
He waved the tip of the saber.
"Shall we give up fencing, Mr. Pons?"
My companion nodded, putting down his cup and reaching for a biscuit
"I would strongly suspect that what precipitated Stanmore's death was the pressure put on the duke deliberately to weaken, if not completely vitiate, this country's position in the current negotiations at Geneva."
"Which would have gravely altered the present precarious balance of power in Europe," added the duke.
"I seem to detect the trembling of the spider's web," said Pons, looking at me grimly. "The delicate hand of our old friend Baron Ennesfred Kroll"
"You don't mean to say so, Pons!" I ejaculated
"On the contrary, Parker. The implications of this affair go even deeper than I at first envisaged. Will you start, sir, or shall I?"
"You seem to know so much about it, I shall defer to you, Mr. Pons. Then you shall see whether we were justified. I take it you will make my official position clear to Mr. Bancroft Pons?"
Pons smiled.
"You may be assured of it, Your Grace."
The duke of Leinster leaned forward to the coffee pot
"Do allow me to pour you some more of this excellent brew, Dr. Parker."
7
"What I find surprising, Your Grace, is the fact that you have made it fairly plain that you have a connection with the death of Stanmore," Pons began.
The Duke smiled grimly from his position at the table. He fingered the saber thoughtfully.
"There is not much point in denying it, Mr. Pons. My family motto is connected with honesty and truthfulness. And I do not run a great deal of risk, surely, when you know by now that that blackguard died before the moment of execution."
Pons stroked the lobe of his left ear with a thin finger and smiled briefly.
"There is that, Your Grace, but the fact remains that murder was planned. And you and your companions are certainly guilty of his death inasmuch as your threats precipitated Stanmore's heart attack."
The duke looked at Pons gravely.
"Tut, tut, Mr. Pons. This is mere quibbling. I expected your visit, of course. I knew Stanmore would keep records. Unfortunately, we were disturbed by someone before we could make a proper search."
Pons sat back in his chair and tented his fingers before him as he stared at the duke fixedly.
"You have just reminded me, Your Grace, that I have done you, through your fiancée, some slight favor. I have
most of the pieces of this puzzle. I should like to ask you a favor in return. I am not quite clear in my own mind just what hold Stanmore could have had over you."
The duke put down the saber with which he had been toying and looked taken aback for the first time since the interview began.
"I will return the favor, Mr. Pons, on the solemn oath of both of you that not a word of what I shall tell you will go beyond the walls of this chamber."
"You have our word, Your Grace."
Leinster nodded. He got up from the bench and took a few nervous pacing turns in front of the empty fireplace which, at this time of the year, contained a mass of flowers. Their red, spiky beauty reminded me of the deeper stains in Stanmore's chamber of death.
"How he came by them, I know not, Mr. Pons, but this unspeakable creature had some love letters written by my late father to a former mistress. He threatened to lay them before my mother. She is a woman of high moral principles who adored my father. The shock would have killed her. I had no choice but to pay him money. I had given him a total of four thousand pounds with the promise, at the time of his death, of more. Latterly he had been putting pressure on me to betray my country."
Pons's face was grim and serious as he listened to this recital.
"You have my word, Your Grace," he repeated. "I am indeed sorry. Stanmore deserved death, if ever a man did."
Pons hesitated as his eyes searched the duke's face and then he went on.
"Did you know of your fiancée also being blackmailed?"
"Only lately, Mr. Pons. Mary came to me in great distress. She did not go into detail."
An unspoken question lingered in his eyes.
Pons put him at ease.
"You need not concern yourself, Your Grace. Lady Mary is an honorable woman. The affair concerned nothing but old love letters written years ago to an officer now dead. I am sure Lady Mary will not mind me telling you under the present difficult circumstances. Stanmore also threatened to send these letters to your mother. With your mother's well-known ethical standards, Lady Mary felt she might forbid the marriage. She could not risk that."
The duke stood in silence for a moment; then his face cleared. He came forward and wrung Pons's hand in silence. I cleared my throat. The noise sounded like a loud intrusion in the silence.
"I am sorry, Pons, but from a layman's point of view, I am not at all sure of this matter."
Pons's eyes were dancing as he turned back to me.
"Let us just reconstruct the crime, Parker. I have already drawn your attention to a number of significant points. It was obvious from the beginning that one of Stanmore's blackmail victims had committed the murder. But the very ferocity of the method aroused my suspicions. One stab wound would have been enough for a man with Stanmore's heart condition. But twenty-four wounds smacked of a ritual. The Chinese dagger was a red herring, merely, and I discounted it immediately.