"What does all this mean, Mr Pons?"
Helen Helstone's face was white, her eyes wide in astonishment.
"That the charade is over, Miss Helstone. You are quite safe now and have nothing to fear."
"I do not understand, Mr Pons. The children…" Solar Pons smilingly shook his head and went to help the little girl up.
She was quite unhurt and kicked him on the shin for his pains.
"Not children, but midgets, Miss Helstone," said Pons gravely. "Evidently to guard your safety. I will give the Prince that much, at any rate."
"What is all this, Pons?" I began when a sullen ring of dark figures closed in on us. Others appeared behind, bringing with them three roughly-dressed men with beards; one was wounded and had a blood-stained handkerchief clapped to his wrist. A tall man detached himself from the group which had come from the terrace. He had a commanding air and his eyes glittered.
"Drop that revolver!" he ordered me. "You will find it is a good deal easier to get in than to get out."
Solar Pons smiled pleasantly.
"On the contrary. I beg you not to be foolish. Just inform Prince Mirko that we are here and that we have averted a tragedy."
The big man's face was puzzled. His English was almost perfect but his sudden agitation made him stumble over the words as he replied.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Solar Pons. Just give the Prince my card, will you, and tell him that the British Foreign Office knows we are here and will hold him responsible for our safety and that of Miss Helstone."
The tall man stood in silence for a moment, studying the card Pons had given him, while the floodlights beat down their golden light on the melodramatic tableau on the broad lawn, turning the faces of ourselves and the guards into ashen masks.
"Very well, Mr Pons," the tall man said at last, lowering his pistol. "We will all go into the house."
6
"I think you owe me an explanation, Mr Pons."
The tall man with the quavering voice took a step forward and regarded Solar Pons with indignation. The big room with the opulent appointments seemed full of people; apart from ourselves there were a number of armed guards and the sullen captives. Only Solar Pons seemed supremely at ease as he stood, an elegant, spare figure, and regarded our host thoughtfully.
"On the contrary, Mr Basden, it is you who must explain yourself."
"I do not know what you mean."
"Oh, come, Mr Basden, if that is really your name. Shots, a murderous attack, threats, armed guards. To say nothing of the danger to Miss Helstone, a British subject. His Britannic Majesty's Government would not take kindly to a Balkan enclave within a friendly sovereign state."
Basden stepped back, his face turning white; he looked as if he were about to choke.
"Pray do not discompose yourself," said Solar Pons. "My guess is that you are an excellent actor, hired for the occasion, but a little out of your depth. Now, if you will kindly ask Prince Mirko to step out from behind that screen in the corner, we will proceed to hard facts."
Pons turned a mocking gaze toward the screen in question; now that he had directed my attention to it I could see a thin plume of blue smoke rising from behind it.
"How is Her Royal Highness' health this evening, Prince?"
There was an angry commotion and the screen was flung violently to the ground. A huge man with a thick beard stood before us, his eyes burning with rage.
"Why, that is the gentleman I glimpsed at my interview, Mr Pons!" said Miss Helstone in surprise.
"Allow me to present His Highness, Prince Mirko of Dresdania," said Pons. "Your real employer and the instigator of this elaborate farce."
Mirko had recovered himself.
"Hardly a farce, Mr Pons," said Mirko levelly, regarding Pons with a steady gaze from wide brown eyes. "You have unfortunately penetrated to the heart of Dresdania's secrets and you may find the price a high one to pay."
"I think not," said Solar Pons coolly. "My brother Bancroft holds an eminent position in the Foreign Office. If anything happens to us, troops will be here in short order."
He broke off and glanced at his watch.
"In fact, you have an hour to give me a satisfactory explanation of this affair."
There was an air of grudging admiration about Prince Mirko as he stared evenly at Pons.
"You do me a grave disservice, Mr Pons," he said quietly. "I wish you no harm and I have certainly done my best to protect Miss Helstone."
"After first putting her life at peril."
Mirko shrugged his massive shoulders.
"Politics, Mr Pons. Dresdania must come first with us. I implied no physical threat by my remark about paying a high price. Merely that the British Government will find the Balkans aflame if my efforts fail. Let us lay our cards on the table, shall we?"
"By all means," said Solar Pons equably. "Will you start or shall I?"
The Prince smiled grimly and led the way across to the far door. He said something in a foreign tongue to the big man who led the guards and they trooped from the room with their prisoners.
"We will be more comfortable in the library, Mr Pons. Will not you, the lady and the doctor sit down? Ah, I think you already know Sir Clifford Ayres." '
The tall, sour figure of the Harley Street man uncoiled itself from an armchair and came down the room toward us. He held out his hand stiffly, embarrassment clear on his face.
"I must apologise for my earlier rudeness, Mr Pons; Dr Parker. I could not breach the code of professional conduct, as you well know. I did remember you from the reception, Mr Pons."
"Good of you to acknowledge it, Sir Clifford," said Pons smoothly, as we seated ourselves. "This is an unfortunate affair but events appear to have taken a turn for the better. How is the man Dr Parker shot?"
"Dead, Mr Pons," said the Prince.
He waved me down as I started to get up from my chair.
"You need not distress yourself, Dr Parker. Krenko was one of the most murderous scoundrels who ever walked in shoe-leather. You have done Dresdania a great service tonight, doctor, for which she cannot thank you enough."
I cleared my throat.
"Thank goodness for that, anyway, Pons. I should not like the thing to lie heavily on my conscience. And then there is the little matter of the police…"
Pons smiled.
"That is the least of our problems, Parker. You must just content yourself with knowing that you have saved Miss Helstone."
"At your instigation, Pons. I am completely baffled."
"And yet the matter was a fairly simple one, Parker, merely requiring the key. I am sure Prince Mirko will correct me if I am wrong, but it was obvious from the moment Miss Helstone consulted us that she was not required for duties as a governess; neither was she being paid five hundred pounds a year for her undoubted skills in that area."
"But for what Pons?"
"For a masquerade, my dear fellow. For her remarkable resemblance to the Princess Sonia, the ruler of Dresdania. Everything pointed to it. And as soon as I saw the Princess' picture in the newspapers, the whole thing became clear. The interview with Mr Basden — he is an actor in your employ, is he not? — the man behind the screen who was making the selection; and the quite extraordinary way in which Miss Helstone alone from all the hundreds interviewed suddenly fitted the bill. She could not even speak the same language as her charges.