Murder at the Zoo
1
"Good evening, Parker!"
"Good evening, Pons!"
Solar Pons shook the droplets of water from his greatcoat and stamped his feet, his lean, feral face wearing a humorous expression. It was a foul, foggy evening in late November, and to make matters worse the capital was shrouded in a weeping rain that seemed to penetrate to one's very bones with its coldness. I had spent a frustrating day on my round of patients and had been very glad to come in at six o'clock and take refuge in our comfortable quarters at 7B Praed Street.
It was now turned seven and I was pleased to see Pons for I knew that Mrs Johnson, our amiable landlady, was delaying our evening meal until his arrival. I had not missed the ironic tone in Pons' voice with its implied commentary on the day and the subtle reference to the pending meal and now I vacated my comfortable chair and came forward to help my friend out of his soaked hat and coat.
"Thank you, Parker. As usual, you are a model of thoughtfulness and consideration."
"Good of you to say so, Pons. You won't mind me mentioning it, but you look as though you had just come out of a particularly muddy section of the line on the Ypres Salient."
Solar Pons laughed, drawing close to the fire and watching the steam ascend from the toe-caps of his stout boots.
"You are not so far short of the truth, Parker. I have been down to Hoxton ferreting about on the site of a new housing estate. The swindles of Jabez Wilson are about to be put a term to. The mud and debris on the site was somewhat reminiscent of the late war, I must say. If you will just give me a few minutes to change my suit and clean up a little, Mrs Johnson may serve as soon as she likes."
"Excellent, Pons."
I went down to acquaint Mrs Johnson with the gist of Pons' message and when I returned, my companion was restored to his immaculate self. He sat in his favourite armchair, his lean fingers tented before him, and stared reflectively at the dancing firelight in the grate.
"Might there be some notes for me in this business, Pons?" I asked.
My companion smiled.
"I fear not, Parker. It is too mundane for your chronicles and though The Adventure of the Hoxton Builder might raise considerable expectation in the reader, I fear it would fall far short of your best efforts in the field. Though Scotland Yard will be glad to learn that Mr Wilson is in the net."
We were interrupted at that moment by the entry of our landlady with a large tray containing a wide assortment of steaming dish-covers, from which came a variety of enticing aromas. We did full justice to our supper and when we had pushed back our plates and poured the coffee I was beginning to take a more sanguine view of the world.
Solar Pons, his empty pipe in his mouth, was absorbed in the evening paper and there was an agreeable silence between us for half an hour. Eventually he threw down the newspaper with an exclamation of disgust.
"This zoo business is intriguing, Parker, but the press has got hold of the wrong end of the stick."
"I have not seen it, Pons."
"The item is there, my dear fellow. It has been running for some weeks. I am convinced there is more to it than meets the eye. But you know the penchant the yellow press has for distortion and sensationalism."
"Come, Pons," I said, laughing. "You will be guilty of the very same fault of which you accuse your clients. I do not know the first thing about the matter."
Solar Pons smiled thinly and stroked his chin in a manner which had long become familiar to me.
"I apologise unreservedly, Parker. I always keep abreast of the criminal news and I must confess I sometimes forget that others do not always share my somewhat esoteric interests. You will find most of the salient features in this evening's journal, though pathetically tuppence coloured."
There was indeed a huge heading I saw, as I picked up the newspaper which Pons had laid down. The article was blazoned: GROTESQUE MYSTERY AT ZOO. Is There a Phantom at Work?
I read it with increasing interest. The gist of it was as follows. It appeared that a mysterious night-time intruder at the Zoological Gardens at Regent's Park had been leaving a trail of havoc behind him. The events had begun in October when a nocturnal prowler had opened monkey cages and chimpanzees and monkeys had run riot throughout the night. An incident the following week was more serious, when a Bengal tigress had been loosed from the Lion House.
"What might have been tragedy for the keepers when the first came on duty in the early morning, was narrowly averted when the Head Keeper, Norman Stebbins, an exceptionally strong man, came to the aid of his colleague. He held the main doors by sheer strength until help summoned. The beast was eventually netted and re-captured."
"A fine effort, Pons," I commented anent Stebbins' feat. "Putting his arm through in place of the door-bar like that."
"Indeed, Parker. Another case of nature imitating art." "I do not follow, Pons."
"Mr Stebbins would appear to have followed the example set by Kate Barlass, Parker."
My companion laughed at the blank incomprehension on my face.
"No matter, Parker. Pray continue."
I read on with mounting bewilderment. The events certainly seemed weird and disconnected. Other animals had been let loose, including ostriches and in one case, a rhinoceros. Damage to property and danger to life had been the principal features here though only one man, an under-keeper named Billings, had been slightly injured.
"The people at the Zoo have been extremely lucky, Pons," I commented, folding the paper.
"Have they not, Parker. What do you make of it?"
"I have not yet finished the item, Pons, but there seems little point in any of it, unless some member of the public has a grudge against the Zoo authorities."
"That is a possibility we must not overlook."
I looked at my companion sharply.
"You talk as though you expect to be retained in the matter, Pons."
"I must confess I am inordinately interested."
I read on in silence for another minute or so.
"This business of the spiders in the tropical house, Pons, is loathsome in the extreme. The Head Keeper had another narrow escape there."
"Did he not?"
"It is bizarre and inexplicable, Pons. I see that there is no evidence that any of the entrances or gates to the Zoological Gardens have been tampered with. Though the person who entered the Tropical House broke a glass door in order to do so, before letting those dreadful creatures escape. And locks on cages were smashed."
Solar Pons rubbed his thin hands together and picked up his coffee cup with an expression of enthusiasm dancing in his eyes.
"The police are completely baffled, Pons."
"I am not surprised to hear you say so."
"It says here," I went on, reading from the newspaper. " 'Public alarm is growing and the activities of what has come to be called The Phantom of the Zoo are becoming more bold and daring. Already life has been endangered and it is only a question of time before a fatality occurs. The cunningness of the Phantom..' "
"Pschaw, Parker," said Solar Pons, interrupting rudely. "Pray spare me the rubbishy fulminations of the popular press. This is all very well for the romantic shopgirl or the more lurid manifestations of the cinema, but we continue to apply the ratiocinative processes at 7B. As I have observed before, this agency stands foursquare upon the ground."
"That is all very well, Pons," said I, re-folding the paper and passing it back to him. "You have often remarked to me that such remarkable mysteries cannot be solved at long distance. And if you have not been retained, I do not see…"
"There is no mystery to be solved," said Solar Pons calmly. "Or, to be more precise, we can discount these rubbishy stories of Phantoms and prowlers of the night. A human hand is at work here, opening cages, throwing back bolts, breaking windows. That goes without saying. The method of entry to the Gardens is a little more interesting but not difficult for the right person. It is the motive which interests me. Human nature is one of the most fascinating of studies, Parker. I commend it to you."