"Mr. Pons! Dr. Parker! What is this warlike intrusion into God's place?"
Pons got to his feet and dusted himself down. He gave a wry smile at the figure struggling in pain on the flagstones.
"Pray do not distress yourself, Rector," he said calmly. "God's will moves in mysterious ways, as the Bible says somewhere."
The Rector looked at my companion belligerently.
"That is all very well, Mr. Pons, but you will find this difficult to explain. There have been strange things going on here, as I told you, and I determined to keep watch. I noticed that you had abstracted the door key, which aroused my suspicions. Then tonight I saw your flashlight. I determined to wait until you came out to see what you were up to. But you were so long I decided to come in."
"Fortunate indeed that you waited, Rector," said Pons crisply. "This man was armed and desperate. And if you had not run into him in the churchyard you would undoubtedly have scared him off."
He stepped back.
"Your department I think, Parker."
I knelt and made a cursory examination.
"A broken arm, Pons. Shock and loss of blood, of course. I can do little here."
Pons straightened up as I helped the bearded man to his feet and bound his wound with my handkerchief. All the fight seemed to have gone out of him. The Rector temporarily appeared to have been stricken speechless. As our prisoner's face came more fully into the light I could not resist an exclamation.
"Why, Pons, he is wearing a mask!"
Solar Pons chuckled.
"Is he not, Parker. Let us just have your views on his identity."
I had no hesitation.
"Why, Judson Higgins, the rare book dealer, Pons. He is about the same build and I noticed particularly that he wore gloves when he came to The Old Rectory last night."
I seized our prisoner's right hand and pointed out the misshapen white scar on the thumb. Solar Pons smiled at me encouragingly.
"Excellent, Parker. You will make a detective yet."
Without preamble, he seized the bearded mask our prisoner was wearing and tore it from him. I must confess I have never been so surprised or disappointed in my life. The face revealed was that of a complete stranger; a hard-faced, crop-headed man with battered features like a boxer, now reddened and perspiring from the constrictions of the mask and the warmth of the evening. He kept his gray eyes sullenly on the ground. Pons' eyes danced and he smiled at the Rector.
"If I am not much mistaken, Mr. Munro Slater, late of Dartmoor Prison. Known to us as Jethro Carpenter, rare book dealer."
"But now was that possible, Pons?"
"Merely a clever make-up, Parker. And he was the only other of the book dealers who physically fits the bill. I have checked and Judson Higgins has a genuine limp."
He turned to the bearded churchman, who was glaring impatiently at both of us.
"We owe you an explanation, Rector. We must first get This man to the local police. Then, if you are agreeable and despite the lateness of the hour, we must arouse Miss Stuart from her bed, and this matter must be settled once and for all."
9
"Coffee, Mr. Pons?"
Our client looked fresh and charming in her dressing gown and not like someone who had been awakened only half an hour before by the housekeeper in such a dramatic manner. It was half-past one in the morning, but such was Pons' energy and vitality, and such was our curiosity to hear the explanation for the weird business that had culminated so dramatically in the church, that we took no heed of the time.
We sat at a round table at the far end of the study, the windows open to admit the sweet-scented night air, but with the curtains tightly drawn. The Rector, somewhat mollified now that Pons had told him something of the circumstances, sat opposite drinking coffee while Pons and I were diagonally across from Miss Stuart presiding at the silver pot. Anyone who could have seen us at that hour would have found the sight decidedly strange.
Solar Pons put down his coffee cup and tented his fingers before him as he looked around the table with suppressed excitement.
"I am sorry to have roused you at such an inopportune hour, Miss Stuart, and what I am going to say may cause some distress."
Our client looked at us wide-eyed.
"Distress, Mr. Pons?"
Solar Pons nodded.
"It concerns your family and does not reflect very well on one of its members. Under these circumstances, if you would prefer the Rector to withdraw, I am sure he would understand."
Miss Stuart looked around the table in bewilderment, then clenched her jaw firmly.
"I have no secrets from the Rector, gentlemen. And I am sure that what is said here tonight will remain within these four walls unless there is good reason for making it public."
"Well said, Miss Stuart. I did not expect you to give any other answer."
Solar Pons looked at the fair-haired girl with a reassuring expression and sipped his coffee before replacing his cup in the saucer.
"This story begins a long time ago, Miss Stuart. In fact, it goes back to your childhood, one might say."
Miss Elizabeth Stuart looked at Pons wide-eyed.
"You astonish me, Mr. Pons."
My companion leaned back in his chair and began to light his pipe at our client's extended permission.
"As soon as you visited me at 7B Praed Street and told us your strange story, it was self-evident that your bearded visitor had a definite purpose in view. Two visits by the same burglar might be coincidence but a whole series, with nothing stolen, was so bizarre a circumstance that I rapidly came to the conclusion that the intruder was searching for something. Something hidden within this study."
Solar Pons put his match down in a crystal ashtray on the table and puffed a cloud of fragrant blue smoke at the ceiling. He stared at us almost dreamily through the misty atmosphere.
"I had formed two conclusions before I left London, Parker. The first I have already mentioned. The second was that the man engaged in such a desperate search was disguised."
I looked at Pons in astonishment.
"You cannot mean it, Pons!"
My companion shook his head impatiently.
"It was self-evident, Parker. Miss Stuart had called the police. Inquiries had been made in the neighborhood, on more than one occasion. But no one had seen a bearded man with an evil face and with a distinctive scar on his thumb. It was surely impossible for such a person to come and go in a small village like Grassington, even at night, without being seen. Therefore, it was elementary that he was disguised. As we have seen, our captive wore a mask. Not so much to conceal his own identity as to create a false one. So that even if he were seen it did not matter. His scarred thumb could easily be concealed by gloves or piece of sticking plaster whenever he went about in his own persona."
"That is all very well, Pons, and we now know the reason, but what was behind the whole charade?"
"Patience, Parker. The genesis of the affair goes back a good many years, and this is why we have to be discreet. It all began, Miss Stuart, in your childhood. Your uncle, Jeremy Stuart. You spoke of him as the black sheep of the family, if I recall your words correctly. And mentioned that he had emigrated to Australia. The expression black sheep usually carries the connotation of being a wild young fellow. Unfortunately, Jeremy Stuart was a habitual criminal and fled the country to avoid the police. In Australia he served a lengthy prison sentence for burglary and it was some years before England saw him again."
Miss Stuart had gone pale and she gazed at Pons with trembling lips. Pons put out his hand and clasped her own.
"Have no fear, Miss Stuart. Everything is over and done with. I am sorry to distress you, but the truth must come out, as I think the Rector would agree."