"I am not entirely insulated from human nature in my profession, Pons," I commented somewhat stiffly. Solar Pons smiled wryly.
"Touché, Parker. It was not my intention to give offence. But you have not yet looked at the Stop-Press."
I again picked up the paper from the table and turned to the item at the bottom right-hand corner of the front page, which he had underlined.
I read: EARLY ARREST EXPECTED. Scotland Yard announced tonight they expect early arrest of Phantom of the Zoo. See story Page 1.
"That would appear to be the end of the matter, Pons." "We shall see, Parker, we shall see," said Pons, an enigmatic smile on his face.
As he spoke there came an imperative rapping at the front door, followed by an agitated ringing of the bell. A minute or two later Mrs Johnson's well-scrubbed face with its heavy coils of hair, appeared round the door.
"A young man to see you, Mr Pons. He is in a dreadful state. He says it is about the Phantom of the Zoo."
2
Pons looked at me in silence for a moment, a slightly mocking expression in his eyes.
"Show him in, Mrs Johnson," he said swiftly. "Pray do not go, Parker. I may have need of your commonsense and ready wit."
"You do me too much honour, Pons," I mumbled, stewing my chair round so that I could command a better view of the door.
A young man of about twenty-eight entered, with tousled fair curly hair. He was roughly-dressed in a dark blue uniform but there was an air of such honesty and decency about him, notwithstanding his haggard and distraught expression, that I warmed to him immediately. He looked from one to the other of us, then unerringly made for Solar Pons and held out his hand as though in mute appeal.
"Mr Solar Pons? I am in most desperate trouble, sir. I do not know which way to turn."
Solar Pons looked at him with a reassuring expression.
"Do not disturb yourself, young man. Sit down there. No doubt a cup of coffee would not come amiss on such a cold evening. If you would just do the honours, Mrs Johnson."
Our landlady bustled about the table, making sure our guest was settled comfortably before she withdrew to the privacy of her own quarters. The young man was silent for a moment after she had quitted the room, his thick, spatulate fingers gripped convulsively round the cup as he took long, deep draughts of the black coffee. "I do not seem to have caught your name," said my companion when our visitor seemed a little more himself.
"I am sorry, sir. This business has fair thrown me, Mr Pons. And now that I am suspected, my life is not worth the living."
He gazed fiercely at us for a moment and then relaxed again.
"My name is John Hardcastle, gentlemen. I'm an under-keeper at the Lion House at the Zoological Gardens, where all these terrible things have been going on."
"Indeed," said Solar Pons, a twinkle in his eyes. "This is my friend and colleague, Dr Lyndon Parker. I take it you have no objection to him hearing your little story?"
Our visitor shook his head.
"By no means. It takes some believing, sir, but I ask you to believe I am innocent."
"Come, Hardcastle," said Pons in a soothing voice. "Drink your coffee, have another and proceed with your story in a connected manner, if you please."
We both waited while Hardcastle poured himself more coffee with a hand that trembled slightly, despite himself. "You've read the stories in the papers, Mr Pons?"
"I am au fait with the salient points. Just exactly how you come to be connected with this affair is not quite clear at present. You are employed at the Zoo, as you have already told me. You are an old soldier; have seen much fighting in France where your health was broken; you have been wounded; and you are fond of pigeons; but these facts tell me little about your present problems."
Our visitor stared at Pons open-mouthed, his coffee cup half raised from the saucer.
"Good heavens, Mr Pons, the staff at the Zoo told me about you. They said you were some kind of magician, but I do not see how you could possibly know all these things."
"They are true, then?"
"Near enough, Mr Pons. But how…"
"It was simple enough," said Solar Pons, giving me a mischievous little glance.
"You are a young man of some twenty-eight years, of vigorous aspect and in rude health, apart from your current agitation, yet your face is marked by illness. By your age it follows therefore that you would have served in the late conflict, as zoo-keeping was not a reserved occupation, to the best of my recollection."
"Correct, Mr Pons."
"Yet I noticed as you came through the door that you had a slight limp in your left leg. It was the merest conjecture, but I immediately concluded that you had been wounded in the war. When I see a scrap of wound ribbon on your uniform jacket there, my conclusion is confirmed. When I see next to it the ribbon of the Mons Star, it is no great feat of reasoning to deduce that you were in the infantry and had seen heavy fighting."
"Again correct in every respect, Mr Pons," said our visitor, awe and bewilderment on his frank, open face.
"I was a corporal in the Coldstreams. Lucky all through the war but caught some shrapnel in the leg only three months from the Armistice. I had trench-fever too and incipient tuberculosis and was laid up for a long time after the war, though I am fit enough now."
"I am glad to hear it," I put in. "As a medical man, my diagnosis exactly."
"You are ever reliable, Parker," said Solar Pons gravely.
"But the pigeons, Pons?"
"Ah, that was the purest flight of fancy, Parker. Mr
Hardcastle has some cuts on his left hand. That may have something to do with his work in the Lion House, though I am sure he would not be careless enough to get within striking distance of his charges. But I noticed a series of minute red scratches on the first finger of his right hand. Only a pigeon-fancier gets those. The birds perch and slight on the right hand and sometimes their sharp claws may inflict tiny scratches. It would take a deal of time to collect such a finger as our young friend there."
"That is so, Mr Pons," said Hardcastle.
"There is no tripping you, Pons," I complained bitterly. Solar Pons laughed shortly.
"I am far from infallible, Parker. But we stray from the point."
"I am not a rich man, Mr Pons," said our visitor anxiously. "I do not know what your fee would be.. "
"Tut, man, let us not quibble about trifles," said Solar Pons impatiently. "You need not worry on that score.
If a case interests me I sometimes remit my fee altogether. And this one promises a maximum of interest. Pray proceed without further delay."
Some of the colour was coming back to the young keeper's cheeks. He looked a fine, manly figure in his tight-fitting uniform as he sat opposite, twisting his peaked cap shyly in his strong, capable hands.
"They all think I'm guilty, Mr Pons," he said quietly. "Even my girl, Alice. The only one who believes in me is the Head Keeper and the man in charge of the Lion House, Mr Hodgson. He has been most helpful. You see, Mr Pons, almost everyone at the Zoo thinks I did all these terrible things like letting Sheba out. Not to mention the damage."
He swallowed nervously. Then, encouraged by Pons' reassuring look, he went on.
"I love the work there, Mr Pons. I wouldn't do anything to harm the Zoo, the animals or the visitors. Let alone my colleagues. But they found things in my locker.