Twenty-five minutes had ensued before Wilson had extricated himself from the morass of questions and another five before I had gathered up all the material he had placed before me. I finished up by giving the young man an entirely fictitious name and address and he was so pleased to get rid of me that he actually ran round the counter-flap to open the street door.
I walked on briskly down the road, in the thickening mist, in case he was still looking after me and at the next corner came across Pons indolently studying the contents of a tobacconist’s window. He turned to me with a welcoming smile.
“Excellent, Parker. You played your part to perfection. That question about investments overseas was shrewdly phrased.” I looked at him in puzzlement.
“How would you know that, Pons?”
“Because I was the other side of the door to the inner office watching you both,” he said quietly, falling into step as we wended our way back through the narrow streets.
“You had some luck, then?”
He nodded, putting the stem of his empty pipe between his teeth.
“It has been a most fruitful expedition, Parker. We have only to visit Mr Angus Dermot at Culzean Lodge and we are free to return to Miss Hayling’s estate.”
“Mr Angus Dermot, Pons?”
My companion nodded. He drew two heavy sheaves of documents from his pocket.
“He is a geologist and mineralogist who fortunately lives quite close by in Inverness. If he is at home we will have saved a good deal of time and trouble.”
And he quickened his pace as though trying to outstrip his racing thoughts. When I caught up with him at the next corner, he had turned into a quiet street of broad-fronted, respectable-looking houses whose trim front gardens led to carved mahogany doors whose brassware winked welcomingly through the mist.
His ring at the bell was answered by a trim, short man of about thirty with dark, tousled hair and a good-natured face. His eyes expressed surprise behind his steel-framed spectacles.
“Mr Angus Dermot?”
“Yes. What can I do for you, gentlemen?”
“My business is private, Mr Dermot, and cannot be discussed in the street. My name is Solar Pons and this is my friend and colleague, Dr Lyndon Parker.”
The young man’s cheeks flushed slightly and he shifted nervously on the door-step.
“Mr Pons! The famous detective. Forgive my manners, gentlemen. Come in by all means though what you can want with me I cannot fathom.”
“We will get to that in a moment, Mr Dermot,” said Pons smoothly, standing aside for me to precede him into the hall. Dermot shut the door behind us decisively and led the way into a cheerful study in which a coal fire blazed in a brick surround. With his thick brown tweed suit he looked out of place in the room, as though farming were his natural vocation. He waved us into two leather armchairs set in front of a raised construction which was part desk, part drawing-board. A green-shaded electric lamp was suspended above it and its surface was littered with papers and map-tracings. Pons wasted no time in coming to the point.
“Mr Dermot, you are a geologist and mineralogist, are you not?”
The young man stared at us in frank puzzlement.
“Among other things, yes, Mr Pons. There is no secret about that.”
Solar Pons tented his thin fingers before him.
“Just so. I would like you to cast your mind back some time. You made a report, did you not, for the Scottish Land Trust, regarding a property known as Glen Affric.”
Dermot was leaning against his drawing-board but now he drew himself up as though he had been stung, indignation on his features.
“That was a highly confidential report, Mr Pons. How you came to know of this is beyond me.”
“We will leave that aside for the moment,” said Pons calmly. “You confirmed the presence of certain minerals, I believe. I would hazard the guess that there was something strange about the commission. You were employed by Mr Mungo Ferguson, were you not?”
Dermot stared defiantly at Pons for a moment, then lowered his eyes sheepishly. He broke into a chuckle.
“Your reputation has not been exaggerated, Mr Pons. This was a highly confidential report. My sample drillings were carried out by night, in areas of woodland. The whole thing was most unusual but the arrangements were made, I was told, because of the secrecy necessary for a profitable commercial enterprise.”
Pons’ lean, aquiline features were alive with interest.
“Hmm. This is something you have met before in your experience?”
“Sometimes, Mr Pons. Though it is comparatively rare it is not unknown.”
“You have a high reputation in your profession, I understand. One you would not wish to hazard.”
Dermot’s frank, open features showed his thoughts clearly. “I have never yet broken my word, Mr Pons. And my reputation is as dear to me as your own.”
“Well said, Mr Dermot,” I could not forbear adding and Pons glanced at me with amusement, giving a dry chuckle.
“I was not imputing any slur on your reputation, Mr Dermot. But your report — your highly confidential report — revealed the presence of shale oil in great commercial quantity.”
Dermot s face bore a puzzled expression again.
“I cannot see how that can be, Mr Pons. My test drillings confirmed the presence of low-grade shale oil, but hardly in commercial quantity. It would not be worth anyone’s while to attempt to extract it and I made the matter clear in various letters which accompanied my reports.”
My companion was smiling now.
“Excellent, Mr Dermot. Everything is quite clear. You have told me all I wish to know.”
“That is all very well, Mr Pons, but I am in some confusion. We cannot let the matter rest here. You have somehow come into possession of a secret document intended only for the eyes of my clients.”
Pons nodded.
“You are perfectly correct, sir. You have been open with me. I will be equally frank in return.”
He drummed with restless fingers on the arm of his chair. “I must in turn impose a pledge of secrecy upon you.” “You have my word, Mr Pons,” the young man replied quickly.
“I have reason to suspect your work is being used as the basis of a gigantic swindle. A young lady’s estate is the key to the whole business, and murder and attempted murder are only some of the ingredients.”
There was nothing but shock and suspended disbelief in Dermot’s eyes.
“You cannot be serious, Mr Pons?”
“I was never more serious, Mr Dermot. I hope to bring this business to a successful conclusion within the next few days but in the meantime nothing of what we have discussed here tonight must go beyond these four walls.”
“I have already given my word, Mr Pons.”
My companion looked at our host approvingly.
“Excellent. It goes without saying, Mr Dermot, that your part in this affair is nothing more than that of an innocent person whose work has been made the basis of fraudulent misrepresentation. You may rely upon me to bring the true facts before the police authorities.”
“Thank you, Mr Pons.”
Young Dermot came forward impulsively and shook my companion’s hand.
“You may rely upon me for every assistance.”
Solar Pons nodded.
“We will be in touch, Mr Dermot. Come, Parker.”
And he strode from the room so briskly that I was hard put to it to keep up with him.
10
“All is well, Parker.”