"Which of you is Solar Pons?" he said in a loud, harsh voice, his little pig-like eyes gleaming malignantly. Gleaming droplets of water stood out like jewels on the checked cape and overcoat he wore: he turned the heavywalking stick in his gnarled, thickened hands as though he intended to use it on one or other of us. I had started up from the table in alarm but Pons motioned me down easily.
"I am he, sir," he said smoothly. "And this is my friend, Dr. Lyndon Parker."
The enormous man shook his head impatiently.
"I am not interested in that, Pons. My business is with you."
"Indeed," said Solar Pons coolly. "If you will kindly shut the door and take a seat like a civilized person we will endeavor to relieve you of your ill-temper."
The big man shook his head like a bull and glowered again. "This is not a social visit," he snapped. "I am Edmund Rose-acre. That should mean something to you!"
"It means nothing to me."
Roseacre opened his mouth in astonishment, then snapped it tightly shut.
"Don't lie to me! I know my niece has been here. By heaven, if you interfere in my affairs, I'll not be responsible for the consequences!"
He took a threatening step forward and raised the stick. Solar Pons smiled faintly, his eyes steel-hard.
"You are offensive, crude and vulgar, sir. Kindly remove yourself from my quarters."
Roseacre stared at Pons as though he could not believe his ears. Then he threw back his massive head and gave a hard, unbelieving laugh.
"I have heard of your ingenious ways, you interfering police jackanapes! It won't do, Pons, it won't do! Produce my niece at once and I will take her back to Surrey."
Solar Pons gave the big man a mocking glance which seemed to enrage him further. He still held the stick high and now he stepped in front of Pons, his eyes glowing with anger, and brought it down. Before I could move Pons was out of his chair with incredible swiftness. His right hand was a blur in the air. Suddenly the giant stumbled, the stick no longer in his hands. There was a sharp crack as Pons broke it across his knee. He hurled the two fragments back at Roseacre's chest. The giant staggered, his eyes clouding with surprise and something like fear. A thin thread of blood trickled down his chin where the jagged end of the stick must have caught him.
"If you are not out of here within five seconds I will break you like that stick and throw you down the stairs," Solar Pons said quietly.
Roseacre backed away, stupefied. Then he collected his wits.
"You have not heard the last of this, Pons!" he cried hoarsely.
He withdrew and descended the staircase like an enraged animal. The front door's slam shook the whole house. Solar Pons stood for a moment. Then he stooped, picked up the two broken portions of stick and put them in the umbrella stand. He closed the door and stood looking down at me. He burst into laughter.
"He is a most charming fellow, this Edmund Roseacre." "Indeed, Pons," I said indignantly. — "And you were complaining that London was unnaturally dull."
Pons crossed to the fireplace and took his pipe from the mantel. He lit it, tiny stipples of light from the bowl making strange patterns on his ascetic features.
"Well, I am not complaining now," he said quietly. "Truly we have not heard the last of this."
"How so?"
My companion shrugged.
"You heard what this amiable gentleman said. He mentioned his niece visiting us. I would submit that his own appearance was premature."
I looked at him sharply.
"You think the niece is still to come?"
"It is entirely possible."
He sat down in his chair, frowning and shoveling out puffs of smoke over his shoulder like signals of his thoughts.
"It was a good thing Mrs. Johnson was out," I said. "She would have been frightened to death."
"Roseacre is a frightening character," said Pons. "But I think I could have mastered him at a pinch, as big as he is." "I am convinced of it," I said. "He thought so too."
"Well, Parker," said he, looking at me coolly. "One or the other of us would have needed medical attention when the fracas was over."
"Thank heaven it did not come to that," I remarked and put my files aside for the day.
"I believe Master Roseacre would have received a surprise had it done so," observed my friend.
"You really believe the niece will come now?"
"I should be disappointed if she did not. It must be urgent for her to brave this brute's anger. I think it is merely a matter of mistaken timing. She is probably walking the streets getting up her courage to come here."
I strolled over to the window.
"Poor girl."
"You may well say so, Parker. She is in all probability alone with nobody to advise her and the area beyond Godalming is a lonely part of the country."
I looked at Pons in surprise.
"How do you know that?"
"Because I have made a study of various types of terrain common to different areas of the British Isles. Roseacre himself said he would take her back to Surrey. When I saw that particular type of sand and gravel on the welts of his shoes, it was not so very difficult to narrow down the area."
"You are omniscient, as usual, Pons."
My companion shook his head impatiently.
"I am far from that, Parker. But I would wager that this type of sand came from one of two particular quarries."
He pointed to the ferrule of the broken cane which protruded from our umbrella stand.
"It is a distinctive, darkish-yellow, with lighter streaks running through it. It is peculiar to a particular two-mile stretch of heathland beyond Godalming. There are few houses in that district so I immediately concluded that Roseacre lives in a lonely spot. There is a large sample adhering to the inner ring of this ferrule if you would take the opportunity to examine it."
I did so and turned back to my companion.
"If you say so I have no doubt of it."
Solar Pons smiled thinly and put his pipe on the table. He looked reflectively at the swirling fog at the window.
"We must just possess our souls in patience for a while longer."
2
Another half-hour passed before the hall door below slammed, this time far less dramatically than on the previous occasion. The familiar footsteps of our landlady ascended the stairs followed by a lighter tread.
"Mr. Pons! I have found this young lady on the doorstep in some distress and have taken the liberty of bringing her up."
"By all means, Mrs. Johnson. Let her come in and I would be obliged if you would fetch some tea as I have no doubt she would appreciate a cup on such a bitterly cold day."
"By all means, sir."
The slim, fair girl who came into our chamber at the heels of Mrs. Johnson looked so pale, so cold, so wretched that my heart went out to her. Normally she would have been attractive, even extremely pretty, but her long blonde hair was wet with the clammy breath of the fog and she had such a white, set expression on her sensitive features and such fear and lurking uneasiness in her troubled eyes that I at once led her to a warm place by the fire and myself took the sodden raincoat from her, as unresisting as a little child.
Solar Pons looked at her with solicitude while Mrs. Johnson bustled about, bringing up a tea tray from her quarters below in an astonishingly short space of time. There was silence for a while. The girl sat looking into the fire, twisting a handkerchief in her thin fingers, while Mrs. Johnson poured tea for the three of us and set out toast and slices of cake for our visitor. It was not until Mrs. Johnson had almost put the cup of tea into the girl's hand that she roused herself, looking gratefully from our landlady to Pons and then to myself.