“Your crystal ball again, Mr Pons?”
The Inspector could not keep the sneer from his voice.
“Simple commonsense, Jamison. Voss’ passport was stamped Harwich. His profession gave me the answer immediately. He simply walked through Customs with the case.”
“Through Customs, Pons?”
“His profession, Parker. He was an export official. No doubt he had made the same run many times previously. I counted no less than ten Harwich stamps on the passport, which was issued only last year. He undoubtedly had privileges and it is my opinion his luggage would not have been searched. The Customs of all European countries accord special privileges to such officials in their comings and goings across frontiers. But a simple telephone call to Harwich should speedily resolve the matter, Jamison.”
“I will see to it, Mr Pons,” said the Inspector heavily.
“We do not, of course, know exactly what led to the rift between the two men,” Pons went on, “but it must be obvious to the meanest intelligence that Thornton had at some stage decided to betray his partner and seize all the money for himself. He would not have done that until the pair arrived in London.”
“Why was that, Pons?”
“For the simple reason that the two men would have had to change the stolen money into English currency. Thornton would have had a difficult enough task to elude his enraged partner without having to worry about him following from Harwich to London. It is very much easier to disappear in a great city. And the hotel was carefully chosen.”
“Carefully chosen, Mr Pons?”
It was Hibbert this time, who sat with his eyes intently on Pons’ face, absorbing his every word.
“It is reasonably small and discreet, so that the fugitive could monitor the movements of fellow-guests. There are three means of exit; one to the Strand, another to the Embankment and a third, via a small courtyard in the rear, through which a guest, by using a service exit, could get to either area. More important still, it is within a stone’s-throw of Soho.”
“I do not follow you, Pons.”
“Tut, Parker, it is simplicity itself. The men would need to change the money and Soho with its criminal underworld would be ideal for the contacts they wished to make. Thornton in his own persona settled in here three days ago because he knew it would take several days and the caseful of money, with a vengeful partner hot in pursuit, was literally a keg of gunpowder. As we have seen, he was successful in making his contact and changing the money; the facility would have cost him the usual fifty per cent.”
“I see. But why did he simply not kill Voss on the train, Pons, without all this elaborate masquerade?”
Solar Pons slowly shook his head, a look of incredulity on his features.
“Come, Parker, Thornton was a murderer but not a fool. The last thing he would want would be a corpse on a railway train with himself aboard with a easeful of stolen German currency. It would be to his advantage to sneak away by some means leaving his partner temporarily unaware of his loss. He obviously hoped to give him the slip in London where he, a native of the country, had all the contacts and the advantages while Voss, a foreigner, and conspicuous in his appearance, would be at a disadvantage. But somehow Voss followed him and learned that he had come to this hotel.”
Solar Pons smiled faintly.
“So much for scientific conjecture. Now for fact. During his flight, he had conceived a plan brilliant in its simplicity. It called for a great deal of nerve and daring, to say nothing of ingenuity, but the man we knew as Thornton had plenty of all three. Perhaps he had hoped to escape Voss altogether but he must have known there was small chance of that. His partner would obviously know of the plans for changing the money and the weight factor alone dictated a base close to the area chosen for converting the notes into English currency.”
“Talking of the weight factor, Mr Pons,” Jamison interjected suddenly. “I’ve got another puzzle on hand. My men found a suitcase full of strips of newspaper in Thornton’s room when we searched it earlier tonight. That was a terrific weight too.”
Solar Pons’ eyes were dancing now.
“I am not at all surprised, Jamison. Obviously Thornton’s first task was to leave the caseful of money at a left-luggage office, probably Charing Cross Station cloakroom, which is no great distance from here. But he would obviously have left it there for as short a time as possible. He turned up here in his own persona with a suitcase weighted down with newspaper to simulate the caseful of money, in case he were watched. He registered as Thornton, with an address at Banstead and was given Room 84. Yesterday, he again arrived at the hotel, this time heavily disguised as his partner Voss, and carrying the case containing the money, which he had retrieved from the left-luggage office.”
“But what if his partner had seen him, Pons?”
Solar Pons paused and looked sombrely round the manager’s’ office.
“That would not matter at all, Parker. It would merely strengthen the real Voss’ conviction that not only was Thornton cheating him of his half-share but was laying a false trail to implicate the real Voss if the police were watching. But I doubt if Thornton was actually seen arriving by his duped partner. He would have searched the hotel registers, looking for Thorn-ton’s handwriting, albeit giving a faked name and address. In fact, this was what first gave me grounds for believing a deception to have taken place.”
“The register, Pons?”
“Of course, Parker. On examining the book I made some remarkable discoveries. Although the inks were different and the hands elaborately disguised, there was no doubt that the man Thornton and the guest Voss shared basic similarities in their handwriting. When I saw that the signature and address of Voss revealed none of those Germanic qualities so beloved of that Nordic race, such as the heavy Gothic-style script taught in their schools and adopted as type-face for newspapers and books, I immediately came to the conclusion that the two men occupying those two rooms shared the same identity and that the man registered in the name of Voss was not a German. Having reached that conclusion I combined the information with the somewhat bizarre appearance of the second guest, which told me a great deal.”
“Brilliant, Mr Pons!” said Hibbert enthusiastically.
“Hardly,” said my companion deprecatingly. “I have made some little study of handwriting, Mr Hibbert, and the reading of such characteristics is a fairly simple matter to the skilled observer.”
“Even so, Mr Pons,” said Jamison heavily, “there still remains a great deal to be explained.”
“I am coming to that, Jamison.”
Solar Pons tented his thin fingers before him.
“As we know, the fake Voss arrived last night, elaborately disguised and carrying the heavily loaded suitcase. He made it a point to draw attention to the weight of the case and did not let it out of his possession. In addition to the heavy clothing he wore dark glasses not only to disguise himself, because the eyes are extremely difficult to conceal or alter, but further to draw attention to himself. He needed all these bizarre details so that when the body of the real Voss was discovered there should be no doubts in the minds of the hotel staff of his identity. He had at that stage known that Voss was closely at his heels and now that he had the real case of money he was at pains to draw attention to himself.”
“I see, Pons.”
Solar Pons smiled briefly at me and went on, as though burdened with the weight of his thoughts.
“When I examined the dead man s bedroom a number of things immediately struck me. The elaborate precautions taken by Voss, the fact that he kept his dark glasses on in the room and only spoke to Meakins very briefly. He did not speak much because he did not wish to give himself away and a disguised voice is difficult to maintain for any length of time. I realised at once that Meakins could not have known whether he had a genuine German accent or not from the brief communication he had had with him.