"The first problem that presented itself, was the secret address. If we discarded the valet, Dawkins, and the woman who did the cleaning, we were left with two alternatives. Someone who found the unlocked door by accident and took the opportunity to dispose of Stanmore; the coincidence was too wild and unlikely. We were then left with the alternative of a carefully planned murder, involving several people. Jefferies?"
The duke nodded.
"I had him follow Stanmore about London. I like to know my enemy and all his habits. Eventually, about six months ago, he was successful and tracked him to Westbourne Grove. The next stage was to cultivate Dawkins. He frequents a public house, the Jolly Vine, nearby. Over the course of those months the two men became drinking companions. In his cups Dawkins let fall various names of business clients' of his employer."
"The people who visited him at his West End hotel," said Pons crisply. "I suspected something of the sort but am glad to have the fact confirmed from your own lips. You not only desired to relieve some of Stanmore's other victims as well as yourself and Lady Mary but you required accomplices to spread the risk. An unusual crime. Death by proxy, one might call it."
Leinster's eyes were sparkling as he followed my companion's reasoning.
"For once a reputation has not been exaggerated, Mr. Pons."
"You discreetly called upon those of your companions in misfortune as were known to you," Pons went on. "They were not only friends or acquaintances but all men in early or middle life, who could be relied upon in a tight corner. I saw many such names in the list I perused."
"You may ask me anything except their names," said the duke curtly.
"That will not be necessary," Pons continued. "On the morning selected for Stanmore's execution six of you went to his flat. Jefferies remained outside to give the alarm in case the valet arrived early. You would then leave by the back stairs."
The duke nodded, his eyes never leaving Pons's face.
"Correct, Mr. Pons. We left the building quickly when Jefferies signaled the alarm. A man came up the stairs shortly after eight o'clock. Jefferies was taken unaware and could not be sure that it was not Dawkins. He gave the alarm and we left hurriedly the same way we came, one by one, down the back stairs, in the event it must have been an occupant of one of the other flats — but we were not to know that."
Pons nodded.
"The six of you went into the flat. Stanmore was already at his study desk, his back to the door. You personally led the way, holding the dagger. Stanmore turned around, recognized his clients, choked, and had a heart attack. But you decided to make sure of him. Why?"
Leinster inclined his head thoughtfully.
"Revenge is sweet, Mr. Pons," he said softly. "Stanmore was choking. We could not be sure whether the seizure was fatal or not. We had to make a quick decision. We killed him ritually, as you say."
"By each taking a section of the dagger and guiding it home," Pons went on. "Thus leaving a portion of each man's fingerprints to confuse the police."
"Which certainly had the desired effect, Pons," I reminded him.
"The picture was fairly clear to me at a glance," Pons said. "It was an ingenious notion and would certainly have involved some legal problems."
"But why twenty-four stab wounds?" I asked.
"That was elementary, Parker. The six gold doubloons pointed the way. We knew, after what Dawkins said, that Stanmore gave his 'clients' a so-called bonus in the form of a doubloon when he had drained them dry. This was a case of six clients returning the compliment with interest, as it were. There were six clients. I had noted from the record that each to date had paid Stanmore four thousand pounds."
Light broke.
"Six fours are twenty-four, Pons!" I cried.
"You continue to improve, Parker," said Pons condescendingly. "The florist's card had been deliberately written in a manner that was unlikely ever to be traced by the police. And Stanmore's records contained a multiplicity of suspects, many of whom were so distinguished and powerful that the police would have to tread carefully. But I already had Brother Bancroft's brief and thus concentrated my search in the area of diplomacy, which led me directly to you, Your Grace."
"You have caught me red-handed, Mr. Pons," said our extraordinary host. "What do you intend to do?"
Pons was silent for a moment, his eyes searching the far distance.
"Telephone my brother in due course and tell him that England's secrets are safe in the hands of one of the ablest public servants she has ever had. Although, as a professional, I must frown at murder or attempted murder in all its forms, I feel that on this occasion justice has been done."
"But what are you going to tell Superintendent Heathfield, Pons?" I asked.
Leinster and Pons exchanged a conspiratorial smile. Solar Pons tented his long, thin fingers before him and looked at me blandly.
"We will think of something, Parker," he said gently. "But I fear this is one case where my ratiocinative faculties have been strained beyond the limit. And I have no doubt that Foreign Office influence will bring a speedy closure of the file."
"You will not find my fiancée and me ungrateful, gentlemen," said the duke of Leinster, taking my colleague by the hand. "And now, if you will permit me, an excellent lunch awaits us."
The Adventure of the Ipi Idol
1
"Careful observation is the whole basis of the ratiocinative process," said Solar Pons. "That and the correct deduction of data from the observable facts."
A thick fog was swirling outside the windows of our quarters at 7B Praed Street but within, all was comfort and cheer. I sat with my feet up on the fender, a glass of port at my elbow, while Pons was in his favorite leather armchair opposite, a gray dressing gown draped around his lean, angular form. We had just had supper and, after a busy day spent on my rounds in this bleak January weather, I was more than glad to return to the warmth and pleasant comradeship of the familiar sitting room.
Pons had been unusually quiet after the meal and now he sprawled, his pipe sending curling streamers of blue smoke up to the ceiling, competing with the aroma of the log fire which burned redly on the hearth.
"You have forgotten one thing, Pons," said I. 'It all depends upon the person who is doing the deducing. Apart from your brother Bancroft I know of no one save yourself who is so gifted."
Solar Pons smiled warmly, his ascetic face a carmine mask in the firelight as he turned toward me.
"You are flatteringly in form this evening, my dear Parker, but I must disclaim so narrow an honor. Many people in all walks of life use the deductive faculties. You yourself have displayed astonishing powers on occasion."
I mumbled some disclaimer and looked at Pons narrowly. In truth he was being rather fulsome this evening so far as my own lamentable lack of talent in this direction was concerned.
"For example," he went on, as though conscious of my inward reasoning. "What do you make of the stick left by our visitor earlier this evening?"
Our motherly landlady, Mrs. Johnson, had apprised us of the visitor. I had been on my rounds and Pons had been for an evening walk; we had fallen in together at the top end of Praed Street and continued so for a while. On our return to 7B Pons had been distinctly disappointed to have missed a possible client.