"You will excuse my bluntness, Mr. Pons," Professor Smithers interrupted harshly. "Evelyn is not Fernchurch's fiancée. She is not anyone's fiancée."
Pons raised his eyebrows while the girl bit her lip.
"I was given to understand differently, Professor. Perhaps Miss Smithers could explain."
"Father was bitterly opposed to our marriage," put in the girl, with a sudden show of spirit.
She tossed her head defiantly, so that the golden curls streamed back over her shoulders. I could then see why Fernchurch was so captivated.
"I have said a thousand times, Evelyn," Professor Smithers went on evenly, "that he is not the man for you. As for that fellow Bulstrode…"
"There I am inclined to agree with you, Professor," Pons put in smoothly, with a brief smile at the girl. "I take it the latter's demise has caused you no sleepless nights."
Professor Smithers's lean form bristled visibly.
"Not to put too fine a point on it, Mr. Pons, Bulstrode's passing is a relief to Maldon."
He hesitated and dropped his eyes before Pons's glance.
"Please do not think me uncharitable, Mr. Pons. Ordinarily I would not wish harm to anyone, but he was a dreadful man. Frankly, if Fernchurch did kill him as they say, then he has done the neighborhood a favor."
The girl rose to her feet, shock on her face.
"Father!"
She stamped her foot with the vehemence of her emotion. Solar Pons tented his fingers together in front of him and half closed his eyes as though the professor had uttered a pleasantry.
"So that you would not be bothered if Mr. Fernchurch were convicted of the crime, Professor Smithers? It would, in a way, if I dare venture so crude a suggestion, kill two birds with one stone."
"Or hammer, Mr. Pons?"
Smithers's smile contained icy venom. Then he recollected himself and went to lean against the massive oak mantel.
"I would not go so far as to say that, Mr. Pons. But blind chance has forged a weapon. One might call it the Hammer of Hate f6r want of a better term. It has removed from my girl's orbit all those undesirable influences I sought to shield her from."
Pons made a mild clicking noise with his tongue.
"Poetically put, Professor Smithers. The Hammer of Hate? You seem to know a good deal about the motives involved here. For all we know the thing might have been a mere accident, instead of premeditated murder." "Eh?"
Professor Smithers coughed awkwardly and looked discomfited.
"I am only repeating what has been public gossip in Maldon for some time, Mr. Pons. My views on Evelyn's unfortunate choices are well known in the locality. In fact it may well have saved her from a nasty scandal."
"How so?"
"We were having words about Fernchurch in this very room at almost the instant Bulstrode was killed. I did not know she had an appointment with young Fernchurch on the tower. Our argument delayed her, as you know. If you ask my opinion, she is well out of it."
Pons sat with his chin on his hand, his sleepy eyes apparently fixed aimlessly on a corner of the mantel.
"You may well be right, Professor Smithers. I should like a word in private with your daughter now, if you would be so good. Thank you for your assistance. You have been most helpful."
Professor Smithers drew himself up, glared at Pons for a moment at thus being so peremptorily dismissed, inclined his head stiffly and strode out of the room. The crash of the door seemed to shake the tower. The girl looked at us calmly from dear blue eyes and went to sit down again.
"Don't take any notice of daddy," she said. "He lives much out of the world."
"Does he not?" agreed Pons, getting up and gliding about the bookcases, scanning the volumes in the swift but thorough way that characterized all his movements.
"Nevertheless, your father was correct in some respects. Bulstrode was a highly unsuitable suitor, if you will forgive me for saying so. And the delay at your rendezvous with Mr. Fernchurch did relieve you of an awkward implication."
"Even though it could have cleared Eustace of all suspicion?" asked the girl artlessly.
Solar Pons paused by the far window and frowned.
"I take it your father's account of your argument on the afternoon of the murder was correct?"
"Perfectly, Mr. Pons."
"Your presence on the tower with Fernchurch might have presented the police with a joint case of murder, Miss Smithers. Had you thought of that? It might well have been argued that you both plotted Bulstrode's death."
The girl rose from her seat again and came down the room toward Pons.
"For what possible reason, Mr. Pons?"
"That he was an insanely jealous man, violent when roused. That he was becoming a nuisance and a threat to your resumed relationship with your fiancée."
"Nonsense, Mr. Pons!"
Solar Pons chuckled.
"I quite agree, Miss Smithers. I just wanted to see your reaction. What a charming view you have from you window here. Do you not agree, Parker?"
I got up and joined the two in front of the large window, which was open to catch the sun. It was indeed a fine view, and I saw immediately that it overlooked the spot where Bulstrode had met his death.
"You did not happen to see him that afternoon, Miss Smithers?"
His voice was so quiet, and the question was shot at the girl so quickly that I was almost as startled as she. Evelyn Smithers shifted her weight from one foot to the other and went pink. She stammered slightly as she replied.
"I did see him, as a matter of fact. I was looking out of the window before my interview with Father. Bulstrode carried a hammer and he was tapping about the base of the tower. It was that which first attracted my attention. I presumed he was checking on the workmen."
Pons was very still, one hand on the window frame behind him, as he stared at the girl.
"Go on, Miss Smithers. You did not tell this to the police?"
The girl shook her head.
"I thought it of no importance. They asked me about the actual crime and the time it was committed."
"I see. We will just keep this between ourselves for the moment. Is that all you have to tell me?"
The girl hesitated again, and once more there was the faint flush on her cheeks.
"He looked up at that instant, Mr. Pons. He may have seen me. I do not really know. There was some shouting in the street just then, and I turned away because at that moment Father came in, in one of his tempers, and slammed the door."
"I see."
Solar Pons stood stock-still, pulling at the lobe of his ear.
"You have been most helpful, Miss Smithers. Come, Parker, I have a few more inquiries to make about town."
6
"Well, Parker, you have seen most of the protagonists in this drama. I should be glad of your thoughts on the matter."
"You flatter me, Pons."
We were sitting in a small rear lounge of the Saddler's Arms, the buzz of cheerful conversation about us. It was early evening and Pons had been unusually preoccupied since the interview with Evelyn Smithers and her father. He had had another talk with Fernchurch before dinner in the smoking room of the hotel, from which he had emerged in a taciturn mood. All through dinner he had remained silent and reserved, and I knew better than to interrupt him on these occasions.
Now, however, when he was sitting back in a comfortable leather chair, a pipe clamped between his teeth, he seemed in a more expansive frame of mind and so I welcomed his remark.
"Come, Parker," he continued, regarding me with narrowed eyes. "You know my methods."
"I know your methods, Pons, but as you are so often reminding me, I do not often know in which direction to apply them"
He chuckled.
"Well said, my dear fellow. How did Miss Smithers strike you, for example?"