“That is so, Mr. Pons. A great deal of money. Which was to lead to her downfall, I am afraid. She was a highly superstitious woman and this legend of The Hound of Hell was always a matter of perturbation to her.”
I turned a puzzled eye on Pons.
“The Hound of Hell, Miss Chambers?”
“It was a family heirloom, Dr. Parker, and a rather unlucky one. It is a large silver effigy, exquisitely fashioned, of an enormous dog, standing on its hind-legs, savaging a man who is attempting to climb a tree. It is engaged in tearing his throat out and is a rather dreadful and terrifying ornament, though of superb craftsmanship, and believed to be of Eastern European origin.
“It was supposed to be worth a lot of money but was said to bring ill fortune to whoever possessed it. It came down to Miss Schneider from her father. As she grew older Rollo’s aunt grew more quirky and fearful and I have heard Rollo say more than once she wanted to get rid of it but the price, combined with the story, put potential purchasers off.”
Our visitor paused and took another sip of the strong tea.
“So when she gave it to Rollo I was quite astonished and now that it has been discovered in his rooms after Miss Schneider’s murder I am afraid the police drew somewhat obvious conclusions, especially as a large sum of money is missing from the house.”
“Indeed,” said Solar Pons languidly, stretching out a slim, sensitive hand for a slice of Madeira cake. “But I am afraid you are rather running ahead of yourself, Miss Chambers.”
“Forgive me, Mr. Pons. This terrible affair is most distracting and confusing.”
“Let me give you another helping of that hot shepherd’s pie,” I interjected and helped the young lady to re-fill her plate while Pons waited patiently for her to continue.
“To our surprise Rollo was called to Miss Schneider’s side about a month ago. The old lady had had a fall and was badly shaken. Rollo was astonished to learn that she intended to leave him all her money. She wanted him to draw up the will but, of course, he pointed out that for ethical reasons such a proposition was quite impossible. He proposed her old firm of solicitors in Colchester and the following week, after the formalities had been put in train, this was done.”
Pons’ face was sombre as he stared at the girl. She broke off her narrative and bit her lip.
“I know what you must be thinking, Mr. Pons. Things look black for Rollo after what has happened. But I just know he is innocent, even if the whole world thought otherwise!”
Pons smiled sympathetically.
“Your sentiments do you great credit, Miss Chambers, but we must take the world as we find it. Miss Schneider was Mr. Watling’s aunt. He is the sole beneficiary of her will. He visited her the other day, a short while before she was found murdered. Just how much money is involved in the bequest, Miss Chambers?”
“About half a million pounds, I believe, Mr. Pons.”
To my surprise Pons burst into a dry chuckle.
“I cannot see anything funny, Pons.”
“Can you not, Parker? Miss Chambers has just given me the finest evidence in the young man’s favour. Ten thousand pounds was stolen from the house, I believe.”
“I cannot see that has any bearing on the matter, Pons.” “Just think about it, my dear fellow.”
And with an enigmatic smile Pons pushed back his chair from the tea-table and at the young lady’s extended permission, puffed contentedly at his pipe.
-2-
“Of course, Mr. Pons, we were both astonished when Miss Schneider gave Rollo that statuette.”
“The Hound of Hell?”
“That is correct, Dr. Parker. But to look back on it, it has brought nothing but trouble, death and ruin in its wake. But our astonishment was nothing compared to our feelings when we learned of this staggering bequest.”
“In December.”
“In early December, Mr. Pons. Then, after the details of the will had been settled, he went down to stay with his aunt this last week-end. I was not invited so did not accompany him.”
Solar Pons pulled thoughtfully at the lobe of his right ear.
“As today is Monday, I presume he left for Essex on Friday evening?”
“That is correct, Mr. Pons. He took the Colchester train early on Friday evening, soon after he left his office. He had booked a room at The Dun Cow, an hostelry in Stonecross.”
“That seems rather curious, Miss Chambers. Why did he not stay at The Pines?”
The girl smiled faintly, despite her evident concern.
“You did not know Miss Schneider, Mr. Pons, or you would not ask such a question. Despite her gift of the silver statuette, despite the bequest, she remained as close and tight-fisted as ever. She has even been known to give her servants short-money when she paid them on Saturday afternoons.”
“Good heavens!” I exclaimed. “It is like something out of Dickens.”
“Is it not, Parker?” said my companion, his eyes bright and alert.
“On Friday evening, after he had settled in, he went over to see his aunt.”
“What was the purpose of his visit, Miss Chambers?”
“Miss Schneider had called him there to iron out one or two minor points in the will. So far as I understand, it was nothing involved, but two or three documents required his signature.”
“I see. Pray continue.”
“Well, he made the visit on Friday evening, signed the necessary papers, stayed for an hour or so and then came away.”
“His aunt seemed quite normal?”
“Quite normal, Mr. Pons. At least so far as such a nature as hers could be. She asked him to return on Saturday evening for a meal and to read the revised draft of the will. He was a little put out when he telephoned me in London on Friday evening, but said he felt it better to humour her.”
“He wished to avoid spending the week-end in such a God-forsaken spot, Miss Chambers,” I put in.
“And no doubt he missed his fiancée,” put in Pons with a winning smile.
“Certainly,” I added. “I did not mean to be ungallant.”
“And I am sure Miss Chambers did not take it so, Parker. At what time did Mr. Watling arrive at The Pines on Saturday?”
“At about seven o’clock, Mr. Pons. It had started to snow in the afternoon and the surroundings were most bleak and inhospitable so that he was glad to reach his destination. There were lights in the windows and many foot marks in the snow leading up and down the drive to and from the front door but there was no reply to his knocking. To his surprise the front door was unlocked. He went through the house room by room but there was no sign of his aunt, though the dining-room table was laid with two places and there were some signs in the kitchen of preparations for a meal. A tray of drinks had been laid out in the large oak-beamed lounge and one glass had been used. It smelt of whisky.”
Pons suddenly became very alert and leaned forward in his chair.
“Was Mr. Watling’s aunt in the habit of drinking whisky?” The girl shook her head.
“No, Mr. Pons. She liked a little gin sometimes, and an occasional glass of white wine, but she never drank whisky.”
“I see. The servants were not in the house, of course?”
“No, Mr. Pons. By seven o’clock it had long been dark, and they would normally have returned to their homes in the afternoon. Naturally, when he found the house empty Rollo was considerably put out. There was a large iron safe in the lounge, housed within a rosewood bureau. He poured himself a whisky and then noticed that the safe door was ajar. He thought little of it for he then saw that the documents relating to the will and some associated letters bearing the superscription of the Colchester solicitors had been left on a table in front of the fire. That was another curious circumstance, Mr. Pons. The fire had gone out and the room had become extremely cold. When Rollo went to the wood-basket there was nothing there but on going into a small study adjoining the lounge he found a number of logs which had been hidden behind the door.”