A drive of about twenty minutes over rough, unmade roads, the traces of which Pons had already noted on our visitor's boots, brought us up against a high brick wall which ran parallel to the highway for several hundred yards.
"That is the wall of the estate, Mr Pons," said our client in a low voice.
"Do not distress yourself, Miss Helstone," said Pons warmly. "I would not ask you to go inside again if I did not think it necessary. And, as I have already pointed out, you are in no danger from the occupants of The Priory unless I miss my guess. The shot came from the men who broke into the grounds; therefore the peril is from without."
Miss Helstone gave a relieved smile.
"Of course, Mr Pons. You are right. But what could those men have wanted with me?"
"That is why we are here, Miss Helstone. Just pull over in front of those gates, Parker."
It was indeed a sombre sight as we drew near; the sky was lowering and dark and it was so cold that it seemed as though it might snow at any minute. The road ran arrow-straight past the high walls of the estate and two tall, gloomy iron gates with a lodge set next to them framed a drive that was lost among dark belts of trees.
I drew up at the entrance lodge and sounded the horn. Almost at once a roughly dressed, dark man appeared, a sullen look upon his face.
"Open the gates," I called above the noise of the engine. "Inform your master that Miss Helstone is here."
As I spoke our client showed herself at the rear passenger window and the big man's jaw dropped with surprise.
"One moment, sir. I must just inform the house," he said in a marked foreign accent.
He shouted something and a second man whom I had not seen set off at a run along the driveway and disappeared. I switched off the motor and we waited for ten minutes. All this time Pons had said nothing but I was aware of his comforting presence at my back. The sentry at the gate — for that was his obvious function — stood with arms folded behind the locked portals and stared impassively in front of him.
Then there was the sound of running footsteps on the drive and the second man re-appeared, close behind him a tall, dark woman whom Miss Helstone immediately identified as Mrs Dresden, the housekeeper. A short conversation followed, in a language with which I was not conversant, and then the first man unlocked the gates and drew them back. I drove through and Mrs Dresden, who at once introduced herself, got into the rear of the car with Pons and our client.
"My poor child!" she said, obviously moved, and embraced the girl. "We thought something dreadful had happened to you."
"These gentlemen found me on the road and took me to their London home," Miss Helstone explained. "I was exhausted and incoherent, I am afraid. I explained the situation this morning and they kindly brought me back."
I was watching Mrs Dresden closely in the rear mirror as I negotiated the winding driveway and I saw her look sharply at Pons.
"That was very good of them, my dear. Mr Basden has been frantic with worry, I assure you. The children are quite safe."
"Thank God, Mrs Dresden. I have been so concerned. What will Mr Basden think? And what could those evil men have possibly wanted?"
The housekeeper faltered and I saw a look of indecision pass across her face.
"Do not trouble yourself further, Miss Helstone. Mr Basden will explain. He is waiting for you. And he will certainly want to thank these gentlemen."
I drove on for some way and then the estate road widened out into a gravel concourse. I was prepared for an imposing building but the fantastic folly which rose before us in the darkling winter morning was a Gothic monstrosity on the grand scale, with turrets like a French château and crenellated walls grafted on. All surrounded by sweeping banks of gloomy rhododendrons, interspersed here and there with groups of mournful statuary, which seemed to weep in the moist air.
I stopped the car before a massive flight of steps, at the top of which another bulky, anonymous-looking man waited to receive us. I felt somewhat apprehensive but Pons looked immensely at home as he descended from the vehicle and looked approvingly about him with keen, incisive glances.
You have not exaggerated, Miss Helstone. The Priory is indeed a remarkable piece of architecture."
Our client said nothing but took Pons' arm timidly as he mounted the steps after the hurrying figure of the housekeeper. She paused at the imposing front entrance to the house.
"Whom shall I say, sir?"
"My name is Bassington," said Pons in clear, pleasant tones. "And this is my friend, Mr Tovey."
"A ridiculous name, Pons," I whispered as Mrs Dresden disappeared through the portals and we followed at a more leisurely pace.
"Perhaps, Parker, but it was all I could think of at the moment. It is not unpleasing, surely? The name of a distinguished musician came into my mind."
"As you wish, Pons," I said resignedly. "I only hope I can remember it."
We were being ushered into a vast hall floored with black and white tiles now and we waited while Mrs Dresden and our client hurried up the marble staircase to the upper floors.
I looked round curiously, only half aware of the bustle in the great house; it was evident that Miss Helstone's return had caused quite a stir and I could hear a man's voice raised in tones of relief. The mansion itself was magnificently appointed and all the strange circumstances of our client's story came back as I took in the details of our opulent surroundings.
We stood there for perhaps ten minutes, Pons silently observing the dark-coated men who scurried about the hall on furtive errands of their own, when a man came hurrying down the staircase. From his appearance and his timid air, I recognised the figure described so eloquently by Miss Helstone as Basden, the head of this strange household.
"Mr Bassington?" he said in a trembling voice. "I am indeed indebted to you for the rescue of our little Miss Helstone. I have been distraught with worry. Mr Tovey, it is? Do come into the drawing-room, gentlemen. Miss Helstone will join us once she has removed her hat and coat."
He led the way into a large, pine-panelled room in which an aromatic fire of logs burned in the marble Adam fireplace.
"Please be seated, gentlemen. May I offer you coffee or some stronger refreshment?"
"That is indeed good of you, Mr Basden," said Pons blandly. "But speaking for myself I require nothing."
I smilingly declined also and studied Basden closely while his conversation with Pons proceeded. He did indeed look furtive and ill at ease, and constantly glanced about him as if we were being observed, though we were quite alone in the room.
"And how are the children?"
Basden looked startled and then collected himself.
"Oh, quite well, Mr Bassington. They were merely frightened and ran back to the house. But I am not quite sure how you came across Miss Helstone. "
"We were on our way back to London in the early hours when we found the young lady bedraggled and half-conscious, lying by the side of the road. We got her into our car and as my companion is a doctor we thought it best to take her straight to my London house, where my wife made her comfortable overnight. In the morning, when she was sufficiently recovered, she told us her story and so we brought her immediately back."
Basden licked his lips.
"I see. As I have already indicated, that was extremely good of you both. If there is any way in which I could defray your expenses..
Pons held up his hand with an imperious gesture.
"Say no more about it, Mr Basden. But they sound a dangerous gang of ruffians about your estate. Ought we not to call in the police?"
The expression of alarm that passed across Basden's features was so marked it was impossible to mistake, though he at once attempted to erase it.
"We have had a good deal of trouble with poachers, Mr Bassington," he said awkwardly. "My gamekeepers have dealt with the problem. We called the police, of course, but unfortunately the rogues got clean away without trace. The neighbourhood has been much plagued with the rascals."