Pons smiled gently.
"I hardly think so, Mr Grimpton. I submit it is more a case of old friends falling out."
Grimpton shook his head.
"The servants are terrified, though they keep up appearances well before guests. My brother has been a great settling influence but even Simmons seems affected by the old stories about my grandfather."
"The butler?"
Pons' face expressed keen interest as he turned toward out host in the pale November sunshine.
"That is correct, Mr Pons. The old chap has been with the family a good many years. I could see he was bursting to tell you the story when we were all in the study with the Inspector."
"You intrigue me, Mr Grimpton. Just what stories are these?"
"Fairy-tales, Mr Pons. Legends that have been linked with every vagabond and itinerant traveller seen about the place."
"Nevertheless, I shall have to ask you to be more precise, Mr Grimpton."
The old man's face looked worried but his voice was steady enough as he turned to face my companion.
"You must remember that my grandfather was an immensely wealthy man, Mr Pons. And stories and superstition accrete round such wealth. It was reputed that he amassed a great fortune in cash, plate and precious stones. This was supposed to have been hidden somewhere in the house and grounds. It was referred to in the village, I believe, somewhat picturesquely as The Treasure of Brimstone Grimpton. Arrant nonsense, of course. I doubt whether there was ever such a thing. But my poor father wasted a great deal of time searching for it."
"Nevertheless, it is intriguing, Mr Grimpton. I take it your father never found anything?"
Grimpton shook his head.
"Not that I ever heard, Mr Pons."
He chuckled.
"It certainly never descended to me or I should be a great deal richer and should not have to worry so much about Mannering and the running of the estate."
"I should not speak of this again, Mr Grimpton. It does not do to let rumour fly and if the legend were to become attached to the violent death of the man Stokoe, the resulting notoriety.. "
"Good heavens, Mr Pons! I had not thought of that." Grimpton's face looked shocked and his mouth sagged open. Solar Pons took him by the arm.
"You mentioned something about Captain Mannering?"
Grimpton's features looked even more lugubrious.
"He has a drink problem, I fear. Yet I would hate to discharge him. He has given sterling service to the estate over the years."
"That is indeed a difficulty, Mr Grimpton. And one that you alone can solve. In the meantime Parker and I have problems enough of our own. I am sure you will excuse us, Mr Grimpton. Come, Parker."
During the latter part of the afternoon Pons was again closeted with Granger the secretary and then took the opportunity to visit the upper floor of the rambling house. When he descended he drew me to one side in his usual brisk manner.
"Now, Parker, I require assistance. I would like you to engage Simmons in a little conversation. I have a mind to delve into the mysteries of his pantry."
"Eigh, Pons?"
Solar Pons shook his head, a whimsical smile on his face.
"This is your chance to shine, Parker. Here comes the man now."
"But what shall I talk about, Pons?"
"Anything that comes to mind, my dear fellow. The weather, politics, the decay of the country estate — I am sure you will think of something."
And with that he darted off down the corridor, leaving me to face the grave-featured old man who bore down upon me with a tray in his hand. In the event I think I acquitted myself creditably, for I chose the one subject the butler had a passion for. He had strange and very strong preconceived ideas about the cultivation and serving of exotic fruit raised under glass and his strictures upon the unfortunate gardener Hoskins and his ministrations in the glasshouse were quite severe.
He was well into his stride on the best way to raise peaches when Pons re-appeared, an enigmatic smile on his face, dusting his elbows. He nodded pleasantly at the old man and I excused myself to join him.
"Well done, Parker, you have excelled yourself. You are quite a horticulturist, I see."
"What were you doing in the butler's pantry, eons?"
"Observing, Parker. And drawing conclusions. There are quite enough materials in there to make up a strong emetic mixture, ranging from curries and chutneys to the most virulent and exotic forms of spices from our great Indian Empire."
"Indeed, Pons," I ventured mildly. "But I fail to follow you."
"It is not the first time, Parker," said Pons, a twinkle in his eye. "But we have been asked to stay on to dinner this evening. I have but a few more questions to ask before coming to some definite conclusions."
And he said nothing further until dinner, breaking silence only at the coffee and dessert stage. Instead, he had listened with rapt attention to the conversation between the two Grimpton brothers and Granger the secretary; the talk was mostly of a trivial nature, about the great house and its occupants, the state of the Home
Farm and the general running of the estate but Pons seemed to find it of inordinate interest.
At length there was a lull and Septimus Grimpton profited by the short silence to ask after the secretary's health.
"It is a great deal better, sir, thank you," Granger returned. He looked searchingly at his employer, as though he feared there might be an ulterior motive behind the question. Thaddeus Grimpton beamed jovially behind his glasses and once again I was touched by the obvious affinity which existed between these two so different brothers.
"Your brother's herbal tea seems to have done the trick perfectly, Mr Grimpton," Solar Pons observed, giving the secretary a reassuring smile.
"Thaddeus is a kind fellow," said the elder Grimpton warmly. "He does a deal of good in Bristol and elsewhere too. He is on the board of several charitable trusts; a prison visitor; active on the hospital board…"
An electrifying change had come over Solar Pons and he gave Septimus Grimpton a hawk-like glance from his piercing eyes.
"Indeed, Mr Grimpton. Well, Parker and I have much to do. We must be going. There is a concert at the Theatre Royal tomorrow and, I understand, an excellent Roman exhibition at the Guildhall."
"Really, Mr Pons, I do not quite follow," said our host, bewilderment written on his features.
"It means that your little problem is solved, Mr Grimpton. I quite forgot to tell you. Inspector Morgan made an arrest this morning. One of the band of gypsies. He killed Stokoe with an extra large knife, which he later threw into the Avon. I do not think you will be troubled further."
"You astonish me, Mr Pons."
Our host was on his feet too as Pons rose swiftly. "Extraordinary, Pons," I began when my companion gave me a warning glance.
"I am sorry to have imposed upon your hospitality, Mr Grimpton, but as you can see Inspector Morgan was quite capable after all and had the correct solution."
"I still do not understand, Mr Pons."
The entire dinner party had risen now and my own bewilderment was re-echoed on the faces of the younger Grimpton and the secretary.
"But what was the motive, Mr Pons?"
"Theft and robbery, Mr Grimpton. Nothing but a common quarrel among petty thieves. The case is closed. Allow me to congratulate you on the resumption of calm at Penderel Lodge and to take my leave in order that Parker and I may resume our interrupted holiday."
"You disappoint me, Mr Pons."
There was sadness in our host's voice and I glanced swiftly at Pons but he only answered blandly.
"Disappointment comes to us all at times, Mr Grimpton, and I too am sorry that I was unable to display those modest gifts which you so flatteringly believe me to possess. Now I really must say goodnight. No, we shall not need the car. It is a beautiful evening and I fancy a brisk walk back to Bath."