"I would give a great deal to have been at that skylight when Schneider was attacked, Pons," I whispered. Solar Pons nodded.
"Each to his own last, my dear fellow. You would have robbed me of a most fascinating problem had you done so."
He put his hand on my arm and drew me over toward the garage door. To my surprise he produced a metal instrument from his pocket and bent over the padlock. A minute or two passed and then there was a faint click. Pons turned to me.
"Now, inside with you, Parker and be quiet about it."
I slipped through the door and waited until he had softly closed it behind us, leaving the padlock hanging from the hasp outside.
"I thought we were going into the studio, Pons," I whispered.
"Later, Parker. You forget the crates in here. It would not do to wreck the Colonel's precious imports." I nodded, following close behind as Pons tip-toed through the garage, past the bulky forms of the two automobiles it contained. As we had seen that morning, there was a connecting door to the store-room, which was unlocked. Solar Pons led the way to the far wall and gazed up through the gloom at the piled boxes which climbed toward the ceiling.
"This will be a difficult job, Pons."
My companion shook his head.
"I think not, Parker, if my suppositions be correct. Just place that large box at the foot here, will you."
I helped him slide the crate over. Solar Pons fingered the lobe of his left ear and looked at me reflectively in the gloom.
"Just as I thought, my dear fellow. A natural staircase."
I soon saw what he meant, for he simply marched up the slope of heavy boxes, which were arranged in tiers, rather like steps. I followed and joined him on the topmost crates.
"What now, Pons?"
"Nothing could be simpler, Parker."
So saying he pulled at the large boxes in front of him and which stretched from the crates to the ceiling. I gasped, for the enormous pile, at least ten feet high, came away with the utmost ease, Pons holding the lowest easily between the tips of his fingers. He chuckled at my expression.
"As I suspected. Mere cardboard, Parker, glued together. You will see that there is nothing between the crates on which we are standing and the floor yonder. Just help me with these other piles."
In a few minutes we had removed all four piles of boxes, and placed them lower down. We now had a clear space from floor to ceiling, revealing a large expanse of concrete at the rear of the wooden crates. Pons glanced keenly at the slated wooden ceiling revealed.
"We can learn nothing further here, Parker. The answer must lie in the studio above. Come."
Gaining the outside and first making sure that there was no-one else in the garden, Pons crept quietly up the staircase to the studio. I followed quickly, just in time to see the lean form of my friend glide through the door, which he had swiftly opened with the duplicate key. I moved toward the light switch but Pons instantly stopped me.
"I think not, Parker. It is annoying, I know and will make the task doubly tedious but we must work without the benefit of the main light."
He moved over cautiously through the studio into which silvery moonlight was filtering from the skylight above. The body of the unfortunate sculptor had been removed, as Pc. Daniels had told us, but the tarpaulin which covered the spot where he had lain and the gouts of blood upon the statue of Venus Aphrodite were a vivid reminder of the brooding horror of that moment when we had first entered the chamber of death.
Pons had a small flash-light out now and was moving cautiously across the planking of the floor. To my surprise he ignored the main studio and went up the shallow staircase to the platform where the easel stood. Pons remained musing for a moment, his right hand stroking his chin, while the beam from his torch played quickly up and down the flooring.
"Why do you feel any entrance must be here, Pons?" I whispered.
"Simply because there is no other place, Parker," said Solar Pons. "The crates below are solid, except for those we have just moved. The corner of the cleared area corresponds to this platform here. Besides, the buttressed sections below would not allow it."
"I saw no buttresses, Pons."
"Because you were not looking for them, my dear fellow. There were several steel beams, against which boxes and crates had been stacked for the purposes of Colonel Gantley's antique business. We must not forget the enormous weight of these sculptures."
"But I cannot possibly see how there could be an entrance, Pons. As we have just noted the ceiling below here is solid."
Solar Pons turned to me. In the dim light of the torch his eyes were twinkling.
"I have already pointed out, Parker, there must be an entrance. Otherwise, Romaine Schneider would still be alive. You really must learn to eliminate all inessentials."
He turned from me and gave an experimental tug on the cord by which the overhead light was suspended. Satisfied, he moved over to the polished wooden railing that surrounded the platform and examined it carefully. When he had concluded his scrutiny he turned to the camera and tripod. He next went over the floor, section by section. All this took more than twenty minutes and I must confess my heart sank as the time passed without his discovering anything out of the ordinary.
He straightened up eventually and dusted the knees of his trousers. I was surprised to see an expression of alert excitement on his features.
"This does not bode well, Pons?"
"On the contrary, it tells me everything, Parker."
He moved over to the heavy wooden easel which stood in one corner. There was no canvas on it and I would not have given it a second glance. But as Pons grasped it he gave an exclamation of satisfaction.
"As I suspected, Parker. The whole thing is fastened to the floor."
"To the floor, Pons?"
"Yes, Parker. If I am not much mistaken it is used as a lever. Just hold the torch will you and stand close by me."
I took the flashlight from him and steadied it up on the wooden structure. Pons bent to it with a grunt. His hands moved about, seeking a purchase and then he had thrown his whole weight against it as though it were a point-lever in a railway signal cabin.
"There is a counter-weight, evidently," he said thoughtfully as there came a perceptible rumble. I was so startled that I almost dropped the torch when a black hole suddenly appeared in the flooring of the platform, growing longer until it reached almost to my feet.
"Brilliantly ingenious," said Solar Pons, taking the torch from me and casting its beam down the stairwell.
"As you will see the boarding was not tongue and groove up here, but fitted flush. It was the only possible explanation to the mystery."
I now saw that the heavy pine planks of the floor had separated to form steps; they were held from beneath by flat pieces of metal screwed to them and which from below I had taken as strengthening bands for the ceiling. The whole thing resembled nothing so much as a gigantic piece of trellis-work.
"But why all this elaboration, Pons?"
"Supposing some of Mr Schneider's lady-friends were illustrious names, who could not afford a scandal, Parker. What simpler than the pretence of renting a garage in this quiet spot. The lady could simply drive her car in, lock the door behind her and ascend to the studio from the interior of the store-room and no-one the wiser."
I gazed at Pons in mute admiration.
"You are undoubtedly right. You knew this all the time, Pons!"
Solar Pons slowly shook his head.
"I knew there had to be an entrance. The motive for it did not cross my mind until we found those letters in Schneider's study."
He put his hand on my arm, his head on one side.