Ferzetti's face was ashen-gray now and little beads of perspiration had started to his brow. He looked desperately at the case as if he would seize it and bear it rapidly away.
Solar Pons leaned over and picked up the leather pouch, hefting it in his hand. The count made an agitated movement and a little globule of perspiration ran down his right cheek.
"There is nothing of value in that pouch, Mr. Pons," he said slowly. "You are entirely mistaken."
"In that case you have no objection if I drop it to the floor?" said Solar Pons blandly, ignoring the alarmed expression on Superintendent Heathfield's face.
Ferzetti was on his feet before my companion could move, cradling the leather with great gentleness. He sat down with rivulets of sweat cascading down his cheeks.
"You are right, gentlemen. This is the Hsui-Ching porcelain. I would have given my life for it. I only ask you to believe that I did not know its antecedents. I did not ask any questions."
Solar Pons nodded, his eyes grim and uncompromising. "You have already paid for it?"
The count nodded.
"A down payment in cash."
"That is your misfortune," said Solar Pons. "Do not send the rest."
Ferzetti looked up at the superintendent.
"And my position?"
"Nothing will be said providing you catch that boat-train," said Heathfield. "I guarantee that. But I should not return to this country for another year or two if I were you."
Ferzetti nodded dully.
"How will we explain it to the museum, Pons?" I asked, looking over my friend's shoulder as he opened the pouch and gently exposed one of the porcelain saucers, nestling in its cocoon of tissue paper.
"Do not worry, Parker. I shall think of something before we return to Colonel Loder. Perhaps you had better take charge of this, Superintendent. Now, there remains only one thing more before we go.…"
He said the words casually, crossing the room aimlessly as he did so. Only as he made a dive for the curtains did I see the pair of polished black shoes which protruded from beneath them. There was a howl of pain as Pons stamped on the nearest shoe. A tall, slim young man in a dark suit, wearing a frightened expression on his face, hopped out, to be seized by Pons.
"Good heavens!" I stammered. "Congratulations, Pons. You have caught LaFontaine at last." I leaned forward and tugged at his moustache. To my stupefaction it held fast and the young man howled with pain again.
Solar Pons burst into laughter, releasing his captive, who stood blinking and trembling in front of us.
"I fear not, Parker," he said. "LaFontaine is too clever for that. A messenger only if I mistake not."
The young man swallowed and opened his mouth.
"My name is Gear. I am from the bankers, Dunlop and Flinton. I was asked to collect this pouch for one of our Swiss customers and deliver it to the Count."
"Your credentials?" Heathfield ordered.
Gear passed over a leather wallet and the superintendent studied its contents carefully.
"I am afraid he is right, Mr. Pons. The bird has flown."
My companion turned to the crestfallen figure of the count. "The address."
Ferzetti shook his head.
"From Geneva, gentlemen."
Solar Pons turned back to Gear.
"Where did you hand over the money?"
"At Croydon Airport at four o'clock this morning, sir. To Mr. Buckley himself."
Solar Pons chuckled.
"You might try the airport, Superintendent, but you can take it from me he will have left on the first available flight at daybreak."
And so it proved. What Solar Pons told the museum authorities I have no means of knowing but the story which eventually appeared in the world press bore little resemblance to the true state of affairs. My companion shrugged off the whole business.
"There was nothing very spectacular in the way of deduction involved, but it was nevertheless one of the most salutary examples of greed among that branch of the human species known as the specialist collector. I fancy that the count will confine his activities to less dubious enterprises from now on."
We were talking in our sitting room at 7B a week later and the weather seemed to have broken, because a thin rain was falling mistily in the street outside.
"Could we not have intercepted LaFontaine at the Geneva post office, Pons?"
My companion shook his head.
"Worse than useless, Parker. He would only have sent an envoy for the rest of the money in any case. But I fancy we shall hear more of the gentleman from time to time."
We heard the very next day when a brief note, postmarked Munich arrived for Pons in a blue envelope. He slit it open, perused it and passed it over to me. It was short, in copperplate handwriting, and precise.
YOU HAVE CROSSED MY PATH TWICE, MR. PONS. POINTS EVEN, I THINK. WE SHALL MEET AGAIN, I WARN YOU. L.
Solar Pons chuckled.
"I have hit him in his pocket. That is always a painful experience to gentlemen of that fraternity."
And he turned to the busy life of the street beyond the window, contentedly puffing at his pipe.
The Adventure of the Horrified Heiress
1
"There is nothing so boring as London on a winter's day, Parker!"
Solar Pons stirred in his chair by the fireside in our cozy sitting room at 7B Praed Street and looked with disgust at the greasy yellow swathes of fog which hung at the window. I glanced at him sympathetically.
"I cannot remember having heard you say so for a long time, Pons. As Samuel Johnson once remarked. — "
Solar Pons smiled faintly, uncoiling himself in the chair, his lean, feral face momentarily transformed.
"I am quite aware of what the good doctor said, Parker. You do well to rebuke me but it is extremely chafing to the spirit when the services of a private consulting detective are apparently no longer needed in this great metropolis."
I glanced over at the clock on the mantel. It was just turned three o'clock on a bleak January day and the traffic of London came muffled and seemingly far away through the fog. I had completed my rounds in the morning and, as things were unusually quiet among my patients, had decided to spend the afternoon catching up on some paperwork among my records.
Now I put down the file on which I had been working.
"Would you care for a walk, Pons?"
"No, no, my dear fellow. I am sorry to disturb you so. Your patience is admirable under the circumstances. I must be the most trying of companions."
"On the contrary!" I protested. "Such records of your cases as I have already published have found a vast public which would not agree with your diagnosis."
Solar Pons made a little clicking noise in his throat.
"Tuppence colored, Parker," he said severely. "I have always warned you against the somewhat romantic view you take of my little adventures."
He looked at me searchingly with his deep-set eyes.
"Always write for the ten per cent of mankind who know what one is talking about."
"I must confess I find you rather harsh in your judgments this afternoon, Pons," I said, conscious of being somewhat put out. Pons' face changed expression immediately.
"I trust I have not caused offence by my thoughtless words, Parker. It is just that I feel you do me too much honor in those memoirs you have already seen fit to print."
I accepted the implied apology and was about to murmur some commonplace when there was a sudden and violent disturbance in our placid little world. For the front door slammed below and then there came the heavy tread of boots on the stairs. With but a peremptory rap, the door of our sitting room was flung open with a crash and a gigantic, bearded man stood glowering on the threshold.