The massive form of Pons’ brother was shouldering his way through the crowd in the room. His eyes narrowed as he took in the wounded man in the corner and the body huddled against the chair, then flickered on to me.
“Good evening, doctor,” he said drily. “Your aim has not lost its accuracy, I see.”
Before I could reply the Foreign Office man turned to Pons. “Excellent, Solar, if somewhat untidy.”
“But Mr. Pons, sir, what am I to say to my superiors?” said Jamison to Bancroft. “Not to mention the Surrey Police?”
`Tut, man,” said Bancroft Pons blandly. ‘The matter is of no importance so far as you are concerned. It is out of your hands. You have discharged your duties admirably, Inspector. No-one could have done more and you have my commendation.”
Jamison stared at the massive form of Bancroft Pons, his expression changing as quickly as sunshine through storm clouds.
“That is very good of you, sir. If you put it like that.”
“I do,” said Bancroft smoothly. “Now, let us just see what this wretched specimen has to say for himself.”
He strode to where a big man crouching by the side of the door was beginning to recover himself. The latter now came forward under the dim light of the lamp.
“This is an outrage, sir,” he spluttered.
“It is indeed,” said Pons’ brother.
The other held a clenched fist under Bancroft’s nose.
“I shall complain to your Foreign Office, sir!”
“I represent the Foreign Office, Dr. Krish. We know all about your involvement with Marceau and the San Ysidor Zinc Trust.”
He turned grimly to Pons.
“I do not think you have met formally, Solar. This is Dr. Arpad Krish, the Paragonian Ambassador.”
He addressed himself sternly to the white-faced, crumpled figure of the diplomat.
“I fancy you will find yourself persona non grata once my report is in! I will give you twenty-four hours to quit the country.”
The big man in formal clothes made a choking noise, stared round the room with burning eyes and turned away. He pushed his way out of the room like a drunken man. Bancroft Pons laughed throatily.
“If the Paragonian Embassy does not announce a change of Ambassador this very night, Solar, I shall be very much surprised. Now, where is this child?”
“Over here, Mr. Pons,” I said, leading the way toward the far door. I opened it, finding Jamison at my elbow.
“There is a nurse here,” I muttered to him. “I think she is not involved in anything criminal but she certainly needs questioning.”
Jamison was on familiar ground now, striding into the room in front of me.
“You may be sure that will be done, doctor,” he said loudly. Pons smiled at me encouragingly as I put my revolver into my pocket.
“You have excelled yourself this evening, Parker. But I fancy we may leave all explanations until we have had an opportunity to restore this frightened young man to his unfortunate father.”
-10-
I drove cautiously through the night, Pons smoking imperturbably at my side. Bancroft had returned separately to make his report to the Foreign Office. Young Anthony Foy slept soundly on the back seat, wrapped in a blanket and presided over by the somewhat uneasy figure of Inspector Jamison. High-ranking officers of Scotland Yard and those of the Surrey Police were now collaborating in the investigations back at the mansion we had just left.
“It will be a major diplomatic incident, Pons,” I said grimly, conscious of the half-empty revolver in my pocket.
“Will it not, Parker,” my companion chuckled, darting a backward glance at the silent figure of the police officer. “But I have no doubt that Scotland Yard and the Foreign Office between them will concoct something bland for the public prints to account for the violence, the sudden demise of the late unlamented Marceau, and the swift recall to his own country of the Paragonian Ambassador.”
He blew out a languid plume of smoke which was rapidly dispersed by the summer breeze coming in through the half-open window of the car.
`Though I would guess that Dr. Krish will take the opportunity to disappear en route. His reception by the President of Paragonia would hardly be diplomatic under the circumstances. And I trust that the shares of Foy’s South American companies will take a sudden upward leap in the morning with the welcome return to sanity of Hugo Foy.”
I gave Pons an exasperated look.
`That is all very well, Pons, and I get your drift, but there are a great many things left unexplained about this extraordinary business.”
“Tut, Parker,” said my companion, blowing out another cloud of blue smoke. “I should have thought it would have been crystal clear.”
Inspector Jamison cleared his throat nervously.
“It is far from clear to me, Mr. Pons.”
He threw my companion a somewhat sour look.
“Though as usual, we were called in only at the eleventh hour to…”
“Give respectability to the proceedings!” said Pons cheerily, his eyes glinting as he gave me a sideways glance.
“Scotland Yard always does that, sir,” said the Inspector cautiously. “Perhaps you wouldn’t mind starting at the beginning for my benefit. Just so that I can get it all down clear in my mind.”
“And in your notebook,” said Pons ironically. “I have no intention of repeating myself unnecessarily, though no doubt Mr. Foy is owed a complete explanation.”
“As you will, Mr. Pons,” Jamison mumbled, reaching out a small, black-bound notebook secured with an elastic band, from one of his capacious pockets. In the mirror I saw him lick the point of a pencil stub as he leaned forward in his seat to take advantage of rays from the dashboard lights that were straying through to the back of the vehicle.
“As you have no doubt cause to remember, Parker,” my friend said. “This bizarre affair began with the reported madness of Hugo Foy as experienced mostly at first-hand by your friend, Colonel Mortimer. A madness, moreover, that I became increasingly convinced, had a purpose behind it. It would be tedious to go through all the examples but you no doubt recall a few of them.”
“Of course, Pons. And I am still completely baffled by his extraordinary behaviour.”
“Really, Parker,” said Pons, giving me an ironic sidelong glance. “Say not so. Yet, as I pointed out to you, it was the key to the entire business.”
I gave a derisive snort.
“Yet, how could one explain away such fantasies as driving his motor-car stark naked in the moonlight; drinking champagne with ginger beer; using a billiard cue to play golf; ruining bridge games; bringing down the Colonel with a rugger tackle and pelting him with eggs.”
Solar Pons held up his hand, a twinkle in his eye, while Inspector Jamison made a heavy choking noise.
“Most concisely put, Parker. And immediately I heard these weird, not to say ridiculous details, two points immediately struck me.”
“And what were those, Pons?”
“Why, Parker, you were at some pains to go over them with me. The first was that Hugo Foy’s madness dated from a specific period in his life. At one moment he was absolutely sane; at the next he was doing weird and unbalanced things, as though impelled by some agency beyond himself. So something had happened; that much was obvious. The second, and far more significant factor at that moment, was Hugo Foy’s audience.”
I stared at him in puzzlement.
“Audience, Pons?”
My companion nodded.
“It was a theatrical performance of the finest quality with a human life at stake.”
I glanced in the mirror at the sleeping form of the blanketed child.
“I see that, Pons, but what I fail to see…”