I flicked back the safety catch of my revolver and ran forward, laying the barrel alongside the forehead of the sadistic brute who was choking the younger man. He sagged forward and released his hold. With a snake-like movement, the other attendant wriggled aside as his assailant fell sideways, half-stunned. To my astonishment and before I could make a move, he had scooped up the leather case on the floor and had quitted the apartment. In two more seconds his shadow on the ceiling, accompanied by his racing footfalls had died out along the corridor.
"You idiot, Parker!" said the voice of Solar Pons. "You have let him get away!"
The museum attendant, one hand to his head, was kneeling and with the other peeling away his beard. In a moment more the sharp featured face of Solar Pons was revealed.
"My dear fellow!" I gasped. "I did not know it was you."
I had seldom seen my companion so affected. He glanced at ne ruefully, rubbing his forehead as I helped him up with many apologies. He sat down on a chair and within another three minutes was himself again.
"Say no more, Parker," he admonished me, anticipating my remarks.
"It was my own fault for not warning you of my little subterfuge."
I felt utterly miserable.
"What on earth are we going to say to Colonel Loder?" I asked, looking round at the shattered cases. "The Hsui-Ching treasures stolen and the museum's trust misplaced."
To my astonishment Solar Pons gave a mischievous smile. "Not at all, Parker. They have not gone far. They will be in our hands again before morning."
"But how?" I began, when Pons interrupted me by shaking his head. He got up from the chair.
"No time now, Parker, That fire of oily waste started by LaFontaine was a master stroke. Not only did it distract everyone's attention as he intended but it gave him the open sesame. The museum grounds are now full of fire engines and other equipment and the courtyard gates wide open. He would have found little difficulty in making his escape."
He paced restlessly to the end of the corridor, listening to the uproar from the heart of the museum.
"There is no time to explain to Loder. We must quickly see Heathfield and then lose no time in following one of the boldest criminals I have ever encountered."
8
It was five in the morning and a gray dawn breaking before Pons, Heathfield and I found ourselves in a police car heading down Regent Street. The superintendent had a gray, drawn face and of we three only. Pons had a calm, relaxed expression.
"I should have taken your advice, Mr. Pons," said the Scotland Yard man soberly.
Solar Pons shook his head.
"You did perfectly correctly, Superintendent. That I was right was merely a piece of inspired guesswork. The main threat appeared to be directed at the Baku idols. Supposing I had been wrong? The result would have been the same."
"But an immeasurably greater theft has taken place," Heathfield continued. "Both yourself and Scotland Yard have lost all credibility in this affair once it gets out"
"Tut, Superintendent," said Solar Pons calmly. "The game is not yet over. Have no fear. Unless I miss my guess that porcelain will be restored to its rightful owners within the hour."
"Let us hope you are right, Mr. Pons," said the superintendent in a grave tone.
A heavy silence fell until we had reached our destination. The gray light had left the streets now and sunshine was gilding the rooftops as we drew up in front of the hotel. Pons glanced at his watch.
"We are a little ahead of time. I think 6:30 A.M. would be more appropriate to our purposes. We must first seek out the night manager. That is your province, Superintendent. With his assistance it should not be too difficult to procure some coffee and a much-needed breakfast before we proceed to the last part of our business."
Heathfield shrugged as we crossed the pavement into the warmth of the foyer of the Astor Towers.
"As you wish, Mr. Pons."
The intervening hour is a blur in my memory. I know we sat in a corner of the deserted dining room and drank coffee and ate an excellent breakfast but its composition and taste are alike lost to my recollection, I was so absorbed with the drama of the night. The excitement of the hunt was upon Solar Pons too and I have seldom seen him so keen and alert as he sat across from us, the white tablecloth between.
The night manager himself took us up in the lift to Count Ferzetti's suite on the third floor.
"The Count is up and about," he whispered as though he could hear us through the thick walls. "His breakfast went up half an hour ago."
Pons nodded and we waited while the manager tapped deferentially at the door. I thought I heard a scuffling noise beyond the panels but I may have been mistaken. The night manager turned to us.
"It is all right to go in, gentlemen," he whispered.
Count Ferzetti, a broad, graceful-looking man with a well-trimmed black moustache was about fifty years of age. He was sitting at a small occasional table finishing off his breakfast; fully dressed except for his jacket, he wore a red-silk dressing gown and oriental-style slippers. Though he must have been considerably surprised at our entrance he put down his coffee cup carefully and merely raised his eyebrows.
I could not forbear a glance of triumph at Pons as I took in the large leather, brass-bound pouch which stood on a corner of the table. The count intercepted my glance and he had a regretful smile on his lips as he rose to greet us. His face cleared as we came closer.
"Mr. Solar Pons! My dear sir. This is an honor and a pleasure!”
Pons shook hands with him and introduced myself and Heathfield.
"Perhaps you will not find it so when I explain the purpose of my errand," he murmured deprecatingly.
"Do be seated. May I ring for breakfast?"
"We have already finished ours," said Solar Pons. "I think you already know why we are here."
The count inclined his head, his eyes carefully avoiding the leather pouch.
"Perhaps," he said cautiously. "Perhaps not."
He wiped his fleshy lips fastidiously with his napkin.
"I am rather busy, gentlemen. And I have a train to catch this morning."
"We know all about that," said Superintendent Heathfield.
"I am afraid you will not catch it unless you comply with our demands."
The count's brown eyes looked hurt and he glanced at each of us in turn, little spots of red appearing on his cheekbones. "Demands, gentlemen?"
"You force us to be blunt, Count," said Solar Pons crisply, his eyes dancing round the room. "You have been attending the great conference on ceramics. As is so often the way with collectors you have taken the opportunity to add to your collection. No doubt at the confidential invitation of our mutual friend LaFontaine."
The count opened his mouth to speak but my companion silenced him with a gesture of his hand.
"Not to put too fine a point on it, you are in process of adding the magnificent Hsui-Ching porcelain in that case on the table yonder to your own collection. And as one of the world's leading collectors you must know that such a set can only come from a dubious source. Is it not so?"
The red on the count's cheeks had deepened.
"Gentlemen, I protest… " he began in a harsh voice. Solar Pons shook his head.
"You will not want the porcelain when I tell you that it was stolen from the British national collection in the Mentmore Museum early this morning and that half the police of Europe will be searching for it before another hour has passed. To say nothing of an eminent professor's life being endangered by the criminal who perpetrated the crime."