“He was not there at the time of the sightings, Mr. Pons. But he remained on duty at night, though the thing never appeared to him.”
“I am not surprised,” said Solar Pons drily. “Though it is rather odd that a 2,000-year-old mummy should be frightened by a revolver.”
And he chuckled throatily to himself.
“You have not yet told me about Achmed?” he said after a moment or two.
“So you have guessed, Mr. Pons.”
“It was not very difficult, Mr. Biggs. You several times spoke of him in the past tense.”
Biggs nodded sombrely.
“There was an unfortunate accident only yesterday morning. He fell under a bus near the Museum.”
Pons gave me a significant glance.
“Fell under a bus, Mr. Biggs?”
“Yes, sir. It was an accident. There was a large crowd near the bus stop with people shoving and pushing to get on a stationary vehicle. Achmed was pushed out into the path of another bus which was passing at the time.”
Pons’ eyes were very bright and shrewd as he stared at the curator.
“And you share the view that it was an accident, Mr. Biggs?”
“It appeared to be so, Mr. Pons. And the police were of the same opinion. I notified the Egyptian Embassy, of course.”
Pons nodded.
“You had not told the police of these appearances at the Museum?”
The little man looked uncomfortable.
“I had sworn the staff to secrecy, Mr. Pons. As a great institution we could not allow such things to get about.”
“I quite understand,” I said.
Biggs shot me a grateful smile.
“But you felt you had to report the death of Achmed officially, Mr. Biggs?”
“Of course, sir. It was my duty as a citizen. Though Inspector Jamison took the same view.”
Pons raised his eyebrows, giving me a whimsical smile.
“I fail to see why the matter should have been reported to Scotland Yard, Mr. Biggs. It was, after all, though tragic, only a traffic accident. Normally the procedure would be for the local police to be informed and they would then make an inquiry and get in touch with the Coroner for the district. Inspector Jamison handles only criminal matters.”
“I am well aware of that, Mr. Pons,” said Biggs in his flustered way. “But apparently Achmed had already made contact with Scotland Yard. I now realise, from our conversation this evening, why. I could not understand Mr. Jamison referring to him as Inspector Achmed.”
Pons inclined his head toward the other.
“And the Inspector could see nothing unusual in the Inspector falling under a bus?”
“Such things happen, Mr. Pons. And London is a very crowded and congested city, quite choked with traffic.”
“Indeed. I take it the Inspector visited you at the Museum?”
“He came late yesterday afternoon, Mr. Pons, and stayed about half an hour. I told him nothing about the things which had been troubling us. He did speak of security for the Egyptian Exhibition later this year and we agreed to liaise together nearer the time.”
“And what was the Egyptian Embassy’s view of the matter, Mr. Biggs?”
“Polite regret, Mr. Pons. I have had no official reaction from Cairo but I suppose that would be too early at this stage.” “Hmm.”
Solar Pons tented his fingers before him.
“It now only remains for you to tell me of the final incident which drove you to seek my advice, Mr. Biggs. Achmed died yesterday morning, yet you have not sought me out until this evening. So presumably something else has happened in the interim to tip the scales.”
Mr. Biggs nodded.
“I am afraid it has, Mr. Pons.”
He passed his hand across his jaw to control the sudden shaking of his fingers.
“Matters came to a head this afternoon. After I had informed Inspector Jamison I hurried straight here. All the Museum staff are on the alert of course, and I have, by dint of stretching our funds, doubled the night-guards temporarily.”
“It must be serious indeed,” I put in.
“It is, Dr. Parker.”
Biggs paused.
“I do not know if you remember the Museum, Mr. Pons. On the second floor, where we have been forced to place material in corridors because of pressure on space, there is a large collection of pottery on display.
“Now, Mr. Pons, the main part of the Museum is built around a square; a large staircase leads to the various floors and the central well, where we have display cases, is commanded by a balcony running round the four sides on each of the three floors above ground level.”
Pons nodded, his eyes bright through the wreaths of tobacco smoke.
“On the second floor we have a large collection of terracotta vases, standing on plinths in the corridor which is bounded on one side by the gallery wall and on the other by the balcony commanding the stairwell and central courtyard. I had gone down from my office at about four o’clock this afternoon to check some labelling on one of the display cases.
“The Museum was quiet and there was hardly anyone about in that section; certainly no-one on the ground floor overlooked by the balconies, fortunately. I had moved away from the case and was standing, preoccupied by the problems of the past few weeks, when some instinct made me look up. I remained frozen for a moment. What I saw, Mr. Pons, was one of the great terra-cotta vases in mid-air, coming straight down toward me!”
-4-
“Great heavens!” I exclaimed involuntarily.
Mr. Biggs could not control his nerves and I got up immediately to pour him a glass of whisky from the decanter on the sideboard. He drank it with a grateful glance and Pons and I were both silent for a moment while we waited for him to recover. He put the glass down on the table in front of him and contemplated the remainder of its contents.
“Fear lent me energy, Mr. Pons. How I managed it, I do not know, but I half-fell, half thrust myself sideways. Mr. Pons, that vase smashed itself to smithereens on the pavement beside me. It could not have missed me by more than two feet. I should have been crushed to pulp if I had not had the good fortune to look up!”
Pons nodded slowly, his eyes fixed and serious.
“It could not have fallen accidentally, of course?”
A vigorous shake of the head from our visitor.
“Impossible, Mr. Pons. It was free-standing on its pedestal, naturally, but these things are of enormous weight. Besides, the height of the balustrade precludes it falling in any case. It extends for more than a foot higher than the middle of the vase. Someone of immense strength must have hoisted it on to the broad railing before releasing it.”
“Yet you heard nothing?”
“No, Mr. Pons. It is even more sinister than I can convey. Someone of great strength who could move as quietly as a cat across the marble floor. I raised the alarm, naturally, and a thorough search was made but the culprit was nowhere to be found.”
“What is above the second floor, Mr. Biggs?”
“Store-rooms for the most part, Mr. Pons, though we have two small public galleries there. Other staircases lead down to the ground floor.”
“I see. So that anyone, staff or member of the public, could have been responsible? And made their escape undetected?” “That is so, Mr. Pons.”
My companion smoked on quietly for a moment or two, the only sound in the room the faint drumming of his restless fingers on the table-top.
“And where are these treasures you brought back from the Valley of the Kings now, Mr. Biggs?”
“The material on loan from Cairo is in the main Museum strong-room, Mr. Pons. The less valuable artefacts are housed in an annexe off my office, while one open crate, containing the material I am currently examining and cataloguing, is in my office itself.”