Solar Pons tented his fingers before him.
"I have examined the stage myself and it would have worked like this. There is another small emergency door beneath the stage which leads to the orchestra pit. She would have undoubtedly used this and there is a small space which is in darkness, near the side of the stage, in which she concealed herself. The cello player sat with his back to her and she was also concealed completely from sight by the bulk of that instrument. She had only to take her place five minutes before Hardcastle's scene with small chance of detection."
"Remarkable!" interjected Jamison again.
Solar Pons shook his head.
"It was a fairly routine matter but one which required considerable patience over the past weeks. I had noticed early on that there were fifteen members of the orchestra and I discreetly checked with the theatre authorities to make certain that this was so. Last night, I disguised myself in order to render myself inconspicuous, but even so I was almost taken unaware. Fortunately, I noticed that there were sixteen members of the orchestra and the hiding place of the assassin was revealed."
"Despite your modesty, it has been a remarkable affair," I said. "I assume that after Hardcastle's death and the escape of the murderer, Mrs. Hardcastle would have inherited."
"And a discreet marriage would have taken place between herself and Cedric Veneer in a year or two, Parker."
"Instead of which, considerable terms of imprisonment await them both," said Jamison. "Once again I am indebted to you, Pons."
He got up to go and shook hands with us. We waited until his heavy footsteps had descended the stairs, followed by the slam of the street door.
"What will happen to them, Pons?"
"Mrs. Hardcastle will be lucky to escape the rope but she is a brilliant and attractive woman, Parker. My guess is that, as Jamison surmises, they will both draw heavy prison sentences."
"And Mr. Hardcastle will be free to marry Miss Richmond when her divorce comes through?"
Solar Pons stared at me, his eyes dancing.
"Your romantic instinct is running wild again, Parker. I have warned you of that tendency before. I shall be very much surprised if your prediction comes true."
He went to stand at the window, frowning down at the street.
"There is just one point I am not clear about. Why would Hardcastle himself not have recognized his new secretary as Venner the designer?"
Solar Pons shook his head.
"You do not know the theatre, Parker. I said Venner was an unsuccessful designer. Though brilliant. Brilliancy and success do not always go together, unfortunately. Venner was obscure. I know that he has not designed for any major London production. Hardcastle is a famous and successful actor who appears only in major plays and films. Their paths would not have crossed."
"And the fact that nothing happened after the first warning?"
Solar Pons smiled enigmatically.
"I had not forgotten that, my dear fellow. I made some inquiries of the railroad. On the date in question, when the performance of Othello was being given, there was a major subsidence of the line in the Midlands which completely disrupted and for a time cancelled the train services between London and Edinburgh. For that reason Venner was unable to travel to Scotland to help in his mistress' scheme. Without his support she had no option but temporarily to abandon the plan as being too risky to attempt on her own. Ironically, it was something like the situation in one of Hardcastle's major films two years ago."
Pons traversed the room and languidly looked at the clock.
"Talking of films, Parker, there is a new Valentino at the London Pavilion. Are you free to go? He is no great actor but he has a certain animal grace which I find irresistible."
The Adventure of the Ignored Idols
1
"Have you ever heard the name of Charles Brinsley LaFontaine, Parker?"
Solar Pons threw the newspaper over to me with a grunt. "I believe I have heard you mention him, Pons. A clever forger and all-around-villain, is he not?"
Solar Pons smiled approvingly at me as he sat opposite in his old gray dressing-robe in our comfortable sitting room at 7B Praed Street.
"You are constantly improving, my dear fellow. One of the most consummate scoundrels who ever lived yet his audacity is so unbounded and his villainies perpetrated with such style that one cannot help admiring him."
Pons reached for his pipe and tamped tobacco into the bowl as I unfolded the paper.
"Nevertheless, I think he has overreached himself on this occasion. To commit a crime is one thing. To announce it beforehand is quite another."
I gazed at my companion in astonishment as he sat looking into the flickering flames of our well-banked fire. It was a cold, dry day in October and we had just finished our lunch on this sunny Saturday afternoon.
"You do not mean to say so, Pons."
"I was never more serious. Kindly peruse the news item I have ringed on the front page, if you would be so kind."
I turned to the article he had mentioned. It was headed
THREAT TO MENTMORE MUSEUM.
PRECIOUS IDOLS IN DANGER,
and began:
The Mentmore Museum in London, one of the depositories of the nation's rarest art treasures, is threatened by a mysterious scoundrel who has indicated his intention of stealing the famous Baku Idols, a set of gold effigies, reputed to be worth a fortune.
The Curator of the Museum, Colonel Francis Loder said last evening that a letter he had received indicated an attempt would be made to steal the idols within the next two or three weeks. The colonel would not particularize on the text of the letter and said that he had been asked by Scotland Yard not to divulge the exact contents.
The museum staff is being strengthened, with double guards at night, and Superintendent Stanley Heathfield of Scotland Yard, who is in charge of the case, told this newspaper that the police authorities were taking the threats seriously. The letter received by the museum director was not signed but the distinctive handwriting, in copperplate, ended with a question mark.
There was much more in the same vein but very little additional information and I put down the journal with a puzzled expression.
"It says nothing here about LaFontaine, Pons."
Solar Pons looked at me with a twinkle in his eyes.
"It says very little there about anything, Parker."
"That is true," I conceded, "but you must have good reasons for your statement."
"Indeed," said my companion. "The item has all the hallmarks of LaFontaine. I have made some study of the man and the copperplate writing is a specialty of his. He has never yet been convicted of anything."
"Why is that?"
Solar Pons smiled thinly.
"Apart from the obvious fact that he has never been caught, the reason the police have never been able to secure a conviction is that he is a master of disguise. We have crossed swords only once and on that memorable occasion he escaped."
"You astonish me."
"I trust not. I am by no means infallible."
Solar Pons leaned forward in his chair, tenting his thin fingers before him, the smoke from his pipe rising lazily to the ceiling.
"The conclusion arose quite simply because the man who laid the groundwork for the theft and forgeries was different from the man seen by witnesses, while the man held in the street by a policeman was different again. When questioned at the police station it was found that the third man was genuinely innocent and that the real miscreant had escaped."
He smiled reminiscently and directed his gaze toward the newspaper.