Solar Pons smiled enigmatically.
"I think I can read a map with some accuracy, Parker. No doubt your excellent eyesight and your army experience will provide admirable backing. You have your revolver, I take it?"
I looked at Pons in surprise.
"It is in my valise upstairs."
"I would suggest that you get it once breakfast is over, my dear fellow."
"You surely do not expect danger in daylight, Pons. So far, as I understand, this phantom does not appear except at night.'
"The Bible says something about terror at noonday. I would feel a great deal easier when venturing into the marshes, if you were carrying it."
"I will certainly bring it, Pons."
"Excellent," said Solar Pons, his keen eyes raking the room and particularly the hearty groups of walkers at the adjoining tables.
"I notice from the map that there is a solid path which leads into the heart of Grimstone Marsh from a point near old Grimstone's causeway. I would suggest we make that our objective this morning and perhaps call at the manor later and see if we can solicit some lunch from our client."
My gloom at his words must have shown on my face for Pons chuckled again and added, "Come, Parker, it is not so bad. The manor is on our way, after all, and we can always return here if need be."
"As you wish, Pons. I am at your disposal."
Solar Pons nodded.
"Finish your coffee then, and let us be off."
As we left the dining room we passed quite close to Knight He smiled pleasantly and made preparations for leaving his own table. I went to my room, dressed in some warm clothes suitable to our expedition and with the butt of my pistol making a comforting pressure against my shoulder muscles, descended to the hall of the hotel where Pons was waiting.
Knight was making his way back to his room again; he was still limping, though making light of the effort, and I noticed that Pons' glance rested on him sympathetically as he gained the head of the stairs. A few moments later we were out in the bitter air of the street and, the mist lifting a little, set off along the lonely road that led across the marsh in the direction o Grimstone Manor.
We walked in silence, each occupied with his own thoughts our feet striking back echoes from the pallid blanket of vapor that edged the road. Once again I was struck with the exceptional melancholy of these cheerless wastes and even Pons — seemed more than usually reflective, the streams of blue smoke from his pipe wreathing back over his shoulder.
We had gone about halfway to the causeway linking Silas Grimstone's manor house with the main road when we heard the sound of hooves and the faint murmur of men's voices on the highway in front of us. Pons put his hand on my arm and drew me to a halt, his face expressing intense concentration.
"Listen, Parker. Horse and cart. Five men by the sound of it."
Sure enough, two minutes later spectral figures materialized from the mist like negatives developing in the photographer's dish. A black horse, eyes wide and staring through the whiteness, drew a rough farm cart whose ironbound wheels made an unpleasant grating noise on the icy road. The men who confronted us were bareheaded and the stiff form beneath the rough tarpaulin on the cart instantly supplied the reason.
I glanced at Pons, noting that there were five men in the group, as he had already indicated. Heavy boots protruded from beneath the tarpaulin, encrusted with ice.
"Good morning, Mr. Pons! I am afraid this is a sad start to the day."
The massive, bearded form of Dr. Strangeways detached itself from the bareheaded villagers and came toward us.
"Indeed," said Solar Pons, moving over to stare downward at the somber burden the cart contained. "A drowning?"
"A drowning, certainly," said Strangeways brusquely. "Though whether he went into the marsh intentionally is another matter. I would be glad of your opinion, doctor."
He bent over the cart and drew back the canvas from the dead face. Ice glistened in among the stiffened fronds of hair and the face was so distorted from lack of oxygen that I had some difficulty in making out the visage of Tobias Jessel. Pons came to stand at my side and puffed unemotionally at his pipe.
"I fear your money was ill-spent, Pons," I said.
"Perhaps, Parker, perhaps," said my companion absently. He fixed the doctor with a piercing eye.
"Just what did you mean by saying that Jessel may not have gone into the marsh intentionally, doctor?"
The big doctor stamped his feet on the ground, an uneasy expression on his face.
"It is only what these people have been saying," he said defensively. "There has been some ill feeling in the past about this fellow's drunken habits. He was not short of enemies on the marsh."
"That is a serious charge, doctor," said Solar Pons. "Let us just see what the indications are."
He pulled back the canvas further, revealing more detail of the old- man's pathetic, stiffened form.
"There are some cuts on the hands, Pons," I said. "As though he had been defending himself."
"I have not overlooked them, Parker," said Solar Pons languidly.
He was busy with his magnifying lens while the four villagers in rough clothing stood awkwardly around the cart. They looked like nothing so much as mourners at a funeral.
"Where was he found?" Pons asked crisply.
"At the foot of a dyke yonder, about half a mile back, sir," said one of the men, turning to point into the white mist in front of us. "Jethro Turner here was on his way to work. The mist happened to part and he saw the body in the ice at the edge of the marsh."
"That's right, sir," said the man referred to soberly. "There was nothing I could do for him, sir, so I set out for the village to rouse Dr. Strangeways here."
"You have behaved correctly, Turner."
Pons turned back to Strangeways.
"You have reported it to the coroner, of course?"
Strangeways flushed and there was a defensive look on his features.
"My aide is on his way there now, Mr. Pons. There is little else we can do until perform the post mortem."
"Of course not," said Pons. "I- should be glad of a copy of your findings."
"I shall never forget the look on his face, sir," said the man Turner, inclining his lugubrious countenance toward us.
"Death is always a shock," said Strangeways roughly.
He jerked his head at the two of us.
"We must get on. A pleasant walk to you, gentlemen."
The man holding the horse's head urged the beast forward and the sad cortege moved on through the mist. Pons and I walked in silence for a while, my companion smoking furiously, his brows knotted.
"What do you make of it, Parker?" he said at length.
"It is an unpleasant business, Pons," I replied. "And things look black, particularly in view of this phantom of the marsh tale. Do you think Jessel could have seen something and been pushed in? His murder obviously took place when he was on his way home from the inn last night."
Solar Pons shook his head.
"You have a point, Parker, but it is too early as yet to jump to conclusions. We must just reserve judgment."
"And there is the matter of the cuts on his hands, Pons. Supposing he were trying to ward off the blows of a knife'?"
Solar Pons ejected a plume of fragrant smoke from between his large teeth.
"Nevertheless, he drowned, Parker," he said enigmatically. "He was not stabbed to death. Ah, unless I am mistaken, here comes the first of the sun!"
Rays of light were beginning to penetrate the mist and in a quarter of an hour it started to disperse, revealing the flat desolate landscape I had already come to detest. We were almost at the causeway of Grimstone Manor by now and Pons paused to consult his large-scale map.
"The path should be about here, Parker," he said, leaving the road and leading me down toward the edge of the marsh.