To my astonishment Pons sat up in his chair as though he had been struck by a thunderbolt.
"Say that again, Parker!"
"Count Ferzetti is in London. For the International Conference. It says here that he is leaving for Italy on the midday boat-train tomorrow."
Pons got up excitedly and strode round the room, a thick swathe of blue smoke trailing behind him.
"My dear fellow, as my great predecessor once said, though you may not yourself transmit light you are a great conductor of it!"
"I do not follow you."
"Really, Parker?"
Pons fixed me with a piercing eye.
"Concentrate, Parker. Ferzetti is the world's greatest authority on the Hsui-Ching period. Did he read a paper on the subject?"
I again consulted the journal.
"This afternoon."
"And where might he be staying?"
"At the Astor Towers."
Solar Pons sat down again, puffed furiously at his pipe and struck his thigh a resounding blow with the flat of his hand.
"Everything fits, Parker! The attempt must be tonight. In the small hours. We must make our plans immediately. Our man will aim to strike ruthlessly and with precision. Listen carefully to what I am going to say because there will be no second chance."
7
I shifted my cramped position on my chair in the shadow of the pillar. It was two A.M. and the clock in the belfry of a neighboring church had just chimed the hour. I felt cold and sleepy but my nerves kept me alert and the butt of my old service revolver made a comforting pressure against my chest. Pons had given me precise instructions.
I was stationed in one of the oriental galleries two rooms away from that in which the Hsui-Ching porcelain was kept. Contrary to the ordinary routine of the museum, Pons had prevailed on Colonel Loder to suspend the normal rounds by the night staff in this section of the museum.
Instead, he had placed his two attendants provided by the curator in a careful manner. One of them sat in the shadow in the gallery next to 'the one where I was concealed. The other occupied a similar position in the gallery beyond the Hsui-Ching collection in the other direction. Only dim night lights burned here, throwing bizarre shadows of strange idols and prancing figurines on to the white walls.
I knew that Heathfield and his men were keeping their own surveillance on the Baku idols and Loder sat in the H.Q. room the' superintendent had set up, which had a wireless link with Scotland Yard. Where Pons was I had no idea. He had disappeared hours before on some errand of his own, after giving me his carefully stressed instructions.
I was to stay where I was, unless I heard some out of the way noise from the Scott-Green Gallery we were keeping under observation. I was then to creep forward and use my own judgment as to what I saw. I was to ignore any other interruption emanating from any other part of the museum. I had questioned Pons on this but he had remained reticent. I was also to use my revolver only in dire emergency and then only if anyone's life was threatened.
In my present drowsy state these instructions had assumed exaggerated proportions and I felt that almost anything would have been preferable to intolerable waiting. I must have dozed for a few seconds and when I started awake was amazed to see by my watch that the time was past three A.M. A deep silence prevailed throughout the museum. Once, hours earlier, I had heard the measured tread of some attendant on an unknown errand but nothing else had disturbed the heavy stillness which prevailed in here. The thickness of the walls and the height of the skylights muffled the noises of the great city beyond, and I might have been alone beyond the stars.
I stirred myself, rising cautiously from the chair, still in the deep shadow of the buttress which concealed me from all prying eyes, and stretched my cramped muscles. Then I became aware of something different in the atmosphere; something which had been vaguely penetrating my consciousness for the past few moments. I sniffed deeply and then realized what it was. Smoke!
At almost the same instant I heard a bell jangle from somewhere within the depths of the museum and then the murmur of distant voices. One among them, louder than the rest, rang out like a clarion. "Fire! Fire!”
This is one of the most dreaded of human cries and instinctively I started out of my corner. Then the stern admonition of Pons sprang to mind. On no account was I to stir from my place unless I heard some noise from the Scott Green Gallery. All other interruptions I was to ignore. I immediately saw Pons' reasoning and the training he had for so long tried to inculcate in me came to my rescue. I stayed where I was, though it took all my self-control to ignore the wild cries and all the other hubbub in the distant corridors of the museum.
The smell of smoke was very strong now and I could even see some wisps of it curling along the floor at the far end of the gallery. At the same instant I heard the sound of heavy boots and one of the attendants requisitioned by Pons came running into the gallery in which I was concealed. I almost started out of my dark niche but held back. He looked around for a moment with a startled expression, then turned and I heard the beat of his footsteps dying out along the corridor which led to the region of the fire.
I remained where I was and not three minutes later the second attendant who was guarding the far side of the Scott Green Gallery came running through. He hesitated a moment and then followed his colleague to the seat of the fire. I could hear more alarm bells ringing and soon saw Pons' drift. Now I was the only person nearby should the Hsui-Ching porcelain be menaced.
Another ten minutes passed and still I remained where I was, standing within the dark shadow of the buttress. I made no noise and kept absolutely still and it was as well I did so as I shortly became aware of a presence; as though someone were watching me. It was an eerie experience, situated as I was, in this somber and bizarre atmosphere of the museum at dead of night. The feeling persisted for some seconds and I dared not move, though I knew it was impossible for anyone to see me, the niche in which I stood being so deep and the shadow quite impenetrable with the lowered lighting.
Then the tension relaxed and I saw, from the corner of my eye, an elongated shadow move back in the direction of the Scott Green Gallery. I waited another five minutes and presently became aware of a low scratching noise. My nerves fretting I eventually crept from my place of concealment, removing my service revolver from my breast-pocket.
It took me several more minutes to tiptoe through the adjacent room to the Scott-Green Gallery. Ali this time I could hear the low, persistent noises, interspersed with an occasional chinking sound. There was no one in the other gallery, which had a marble floor, so there were no creaking boards and I made good progress. But I was still some yards from the entrance to the dimly lit Scott-Green Gallery when there was a loud shout and then a heavy blundering noise.
Caution was pointless now so I ran forward, throwing off the safety catch of my revolver. The noise of a savage struggle was plainly audible and there came the sharp interruption of splintering glass. I paused at the entrance of the Scott Green Gallery to take in the weird scene which was being enacted there. The first thing I noticed was that a great hole had been cut in the top of each of the cases containing the Hsui-Ching porcelain treasures. Both cases were now empty and lying on the floor near them was a large leather pouch bound with brass and with heavy brass protective corners. On the floor itself was scattered a number of tools, fragments of glass and other bric-brac.
I took all this in an instant and all the while the panting sounds and the evidence of a heavy struggle continued. As I moved around the cases I saw that two men, dressed in the uniform of museum attendants were locked in lethal combat on the floor of the gallery. The uppermost, a sinister looking fellow with a thick beard was throttling a tall, slim man with a heavy moustache who lay beneath him and who was attempting to gouge the aggressor's eyes.