Pons's eyes were fixed, somewhere up on the ceiling beyond my gaze to where the firelight made a brindled pattern on the white plaster.
"There is that," he admitted. "But as to whether he would smash them is another matter."
And to this maddeningly cryptic remark he would add nothing. I had opened my mouth to draw him out further when there was the sound of a car drawing up outside. Pons crossed noiselessly to the curtains. He came back to stand by the table.
"We are exceedingly popular this evening, Parker. If I am not mistaken the stolid form of Inspector Jamison has just descended from the police car at the curb outside."
A few moments later we heard the loud, insistent ringing of the bell, the murmur of conversation as Mrs. Johnson opened the door, and then the familiar tread of the inspector. Pons was already opening the door to admit the Scotland Yard man, who wore a gloomy and worried expression.
"Something serious?" queried Pons hopefully.
Jamison mopped his brow with a handkerchief he took from his overcoat pocket and stared from my companion to me.
"Not only serious, Mr. Pons, but horrific"
"Murder, then?" said Pons.
"Murder in the most sickening circumstances. In a locked room and with a number of singular features."
"Where?"
"Highbury. In broad daylight too. Yesterday afternoon."
An annoyed expression crossed Solar Pons's face and he clicked his tongue.
"Dear me, Jamison. As long ago as that? And no doubt your fellows have been trampling about with their heavy boots."
Jamison colored and shifted from one foot to another.
"All has been preserved just as Professor Mair was found," he said stiffly. "I would appreciate your cooperation."
"Certainly, my dear fellow. I will just get my coat."
"Coming, Parker?"
I was already on my feet, draining the last of my whiskey.
"Certainly, Pons. No doubt the inspector will enlighten us on the way."
2
We were driving northeast, through rain-sodden streets, before Jamison broke the silence which had descended on the three of us.
"Professor Mair is a wealthy man who retired from the British Museum some years ago," he said at last "He was an expert on Chinese pottery, I believe. He lives in a large house in Highbury — The Poplars — with a staff of servants, a private secretary, and three relatives. These are his niece, Miss Jean Conyers, and two nephews, Lionel Amsden, a broker in the City, and Clifford Armitage, who looked after the professor's financial affairs. So far as we can make but the household was a fairly amiable one. Mair had never married and since his parents had made considerable investments on his behalf, he was able to keep up an almost regal establishment at The Poplars. You'll see what I mean when we get there."
Pons made no reply, his intent, hawklike face silhouetted against the bloom of passing gas lamps, as the police car turned from a main highway into a subsidiary road.
"But just lately the professor had taken a fancy to move out of London," Inspector Jamison continued. "This caused a minor ripple in the household. The professor suffered from arthritis and had been advised by his medical man to seek a drier climate."
"In England or abroad?" Pons interjected.
Jamison looked startled.
"That was not made quite clear," he answered stiffly. "But at any rate he intended to put The Poplars up for sale. This was the situation which obtained until yesterday afternoon. Then, at about three o'clock the people in the house heard the most appalling and inhuman screams coming from Professor Mair's study, which is at the front of the house, on the first floor.
"The servants found the door locked and had to break it down to gain entry. Inside, they discovered a most appalling sight Drawers and cupboards had been ransacked and it looked as though there had been a tremendous struggle. The professor lay in front of his desk. A large javelin, one of his collection of weapons, had been taken from the wall and dashed through his body with such force that it penetrated the carpet beneath, pinning him like a butterfly on a card."
"Good Heavens!" I could not help interjecting.
Jamison shook his head.
"You may well say so, Doctor. It was one of the most horrible scenes I have ever clapped eyes on and I've seen some things in my time."
"Pray do go on, Jamison," said Pons imperturbably. "I am finding this most absorbing. Were all the family at home?"
The inspector nodded.
"Niece, nephews, and secretary. They helped to break down the door."
"Ah, yes, the door," interjected Pons slowly. "That does indeed present a problem. You checked the windows, of course?"
Jamison turned an aggrieved face toward us.
"Of course, Mr. Pons. Both the big windows at the front of the study, which face the garden, are three-quarter length. They were securely locked and in any case it is a considerable drop to the garden onto a paved pathway at that point."
Solar Pons sat hunched in thought for a few moments more, oblivious of the lurching of the car or the spitting of the rain on the bodywork.
"But you must have come to some conclusions, Jamison?"
The inspector stirred uncomfortably on his seat opposite us.
"It is a very complex business. As to motive, both nephews and the niece stand to inherit considerable sums from the professor's estate as his only relatives. I have had some talk with the family lawyer this afternoon. There is something in excess of a quarter of a million pounds involved."
Pons turned in his corner of the car and his eyes caught mine.
"Motive enough there, Parker, eh?"
I nodded.
"But the locked room… And who would be strong enough to wield a harpoon in that manner?"
"A javelin, Doctor," Jamison put in. "I had not overlooked that point, Mr. Pons."
He had a little gleam of triumph in his eyes. "I favor young Mr. Amsden. He is over six feet tall and built like a Greek god. Except that only a minute elapsed between the professor's screaming and the breaking in of the door. As Mr. Amsden was principally concerned in breaking in that very same door, I did not feel I had anything strong enough to go on."
"You were quite right, Jamison," said Solar Pons crisply. "You would have made yourself look extremely foolish had you been misguided enough to have arrested him. There are a number of intriguing aspects here."
Jamison's face brightened.
"You are on to something?"
Pons shook his head irritably.
"I prefer to draw my conclusions from strictly observed data on the spot. I fancy I will need to know a great deal more about The Poplars and its inhabitants before I am able to do so."
And he said nothing further until the wheels of the police car scraped the curb as it came to a halt in the rainy night before a high brick wall.
3
Jamison led the way across the pavement to where two large wrought-iron gates were thrown- back, framing the entrance to a graveled drive. By the light of an adjacent gas lamp which threw a mellow glare onto the scene I was able to see why the police car had not driven in to The Poplars. There was a trench dug in the pavement, paving slabs piled high; and across the entry to Professor Mair's mansion heavy boards had been placed. The whole of the frontage leading to the driveway had been excavated, and clay and sand filled the gap.
"The Council workmen are doing drainage maintenance here, gentlemen," Jamison explained. "I thought it might be worthwhile keeping this surface clear."
Pons's eyes were sharp and alert in the light of the gas lamp.
"You have done well, Jamison," he said dryly. "My precepts appear to have taught you something at last."