Then he broke off, a smile on his face, and came down the room toward us.
"Mr. Solar Pons, is it not? I have seen your photograph in various journals. They do not do you justice."
Pons smiled thinly, his glance raking the room to where the sullen figure of Amsden pawed the carpet with the toe of his shoe like a petulant child.
"This is Mr. Clifford Armitage, who saw to Professor Mair's business interests," said Jamison briskly. "Dr. Lyndon Parker."
"Delighted, Doctor," said Armitage, relinquishing Pons's hand and hurrying to me. His blue eyes studied my face.
"Dreadful business, but most interesting to see such distinguished people at work."
"You do me too much honor, Mr. Armitage," Pons protested. "But will you not introduce me to Mr. Amsden?"
"Lionel is too worried at present as to how much money he will lose over Uncle's death," put in Miss Conyers waspishly. "If he would restrain himself from horse racing, gambling, and other forms of debt, he would be better advised."
Amsden raised his brutal face and looked at his cousin loweringly.
"Go to blazes, Jean," he said in a sneering voice. "And as for Mr. Smart Aleck Pons, we have no need of such amateurs in the house."
As Armitage raised his hand in protest, Pons smilingly waved his apologies away.
"I have seldom been received with such courtesy," he said ironically. "I understand Mr. Amsden's feelings well."
The giant stared at Pons incredulously.
"The devil you do."
He took a step nearer.
"Oh," well, no hard feelings, Mr. Pons. I've been more than usually tried today and I lost over a hundred on the three-thirty."
"You have my deepest sympathy."
Pons took the giant's outstretched hand. Amsden had a wide smile on his face. I saw that he was exerting enormous pressure on Pons's hand. The smile on my companion's face widened a trifle. His own knuckles were white now, and I saw beads of perspiration on the huge stockbroker's face. He winced with pain and bit his lip. He suddenly let go Pons's hand and fell back, massaging his fingers.
"Damnation on it," he said in mingled tones of disgust and admiration.
"The game is not entirely unknown to me," said Pons, flexing his own fingers and giving me a brief, mocking glance.
"And now, if you will all sit down, there are a few questions I would like to ask."
5
It was past midnight when Pons had finished his questioning, and we were jolting back in a cab to our quarters at 7B Praed Street before he broke the brooding silence which had enveloped him since we left the house. Then he leaned forward in his seat opposite me, his eyes gleaming.
"What do you say, Parker? You know my methods. Apply them."
"Why, Pons," I said. "There is some mystery, certainly, but I should be inclined to put my money on the inspector's choice."
"Lionel Amsden?"
I nodded.
"He is built like a bull. Assuming the crime was committed by a member of the household or staff — there was certainly no one else in the house at the time according to the statements made — he would be the only person with strength enough to drive that javelin through the unfortunate professor's body. It is obvious that nothing was stolen and that the desk was ransacked to make the crime look like casual theft"
Pons straightened himself and stretched his bony legs.
"You are definitely improving, Parker."
I must confess I felt a slight warmth spring to my cheek at his unaccustomed praise, but I had no time to bask in the glow for Pons's mobile features had changed expression again.
"The desk was most certainly a somewhat clumsy attempt to divert suspicion and make it look as though the murder was a by-product of burglary. No, no, Parker, there are deeper waters here. But what inclines you to the Amsden theory?"
"He is certainly an unlovable character," I said strongly. "He is at loggerheads with other members of the household, notably Miss Conyers. And if we are to believe what she and some of the servants say, he has gambling and other debts."
Solar Pons's eyes were dancing and he interrupted me with a short laugh.
"Ah, Parker, there speaks your Puritan streak. I fear that if we arrested people for murder on the strength of their gambling debts, the jails the length and breadth of England would be full to bursting. No, Parker, we must look elsewhere for the cunning perpetrator of this brutal crime."
"But you cannot doubt that Amsden could have done it," I burst out, conscious that my hold on my temper was fraying.
"Explain then, if you will, the method by which the crime was committed," my companion said in that maddeningly assured manner of his.
"Supposing that, pressed by debt, he sought an interview with the professor. That he asked for an assurance about his inheritance or perhaps a loan to get him out of his difficulties. Amsden lost his temper — no difficult thing with him — and the two men struggled. He seized the javelin and murdered the old man. When his screams aroused the household, he transfixed him with the javelin and rushed out of the room."
"And the locked door?"
Solar Pons had a mocking smile upon his lips now but I plunged on.
"He went a few yards along the corridor and then ran back, making a great deal of noise. He was at the door, and held the knob, while he broke it in."
Pons opened his eyes wide and sat back for a moment.
"That is quite breathtaking, Parker, even for you. But it will not do, I'm afraid. The wreckage of the door certainly indicates that it was locked with the key from the inside at the time it was broken open. There were five people outside the door when it was smashed. No one went near it afterward; in fact the room was full of people. So we can be sure the key was not tampered with. In addition, that, portion of the lock on the lintel was torn out of its retaining screws..
Pons closed his eyes and pulled reflectively at the lobe of his ear, as he was wont to do when hot upon the scent.
"No one has yet commented upon one of the most curious aspects of this matter, and it certainly does not seem to have occurred to our good friend the inspector. I submit that a man transfixed by a javelin dies quickly. He has little time for screaming. I commend that singular fact to your ratiocinative faculties. As a doctor it should have particular significance."
I fear that I stared at Pons open-mouthed, but at that moment the cab turned and deposited us opposite the familiar doorstep of Number 7B Praed Street.
"We must be back at The Poplars in good time tomorrow," Pons went on as we climbed in single file up the stairs to our quarters.
"Don't forget that you promised Mr. Beresford to be at his studio at ten o'clock," I said.
"Ah, yes, Parker, I fear that little matter had temporarily slipped my mind in the stress of the greater crime."
We were in the sitting room and had switched on the light when I was arrested by a curt exclamation from my companion. Pons was standing by the light switch, staring at a sheet of paper he had taken from his pocket, his eyes dancing with excitement.
"I fear my deductive faculties have become somewhat atrophied, my dear fellow."
I recognized the appointments list our photographer visitor of that evening had scribbled down for Pons.
"I fancy that Mr. Beresford's problem must have priority after all, Parker."
He handed me the sheet of paper. At first I could not see what he meant. Then, halfway down Beresford's list of photographic assignments were the five words which had occasioned Pons's excitement: Professor Mair, The Poplars, Highbury.
"But what does it mean, Pons?"
"It means that I am on the way to identifying the man who smashed our visitor's photographic plates. Good night, Parker. I should lose no time in seeking your bed as we must be up betimes in the morning."