"Well done, Parker. You played your part well. What did you think of The Priory?"
"Miss Helstone had not done it justice, Pons. But I judge it to be an elaborate façade."
"Excellent, Parker! You improve all the time. If Basden is master there, I will devour my hat in the traditional manner. Just pull onto the side of the road here like a good fellow, will you? I have a mind to engage in conversation the owner of that Rolls-Royce when he comes out."
"But how do you know he is coming this way, Pons?" I protested.
Solar Pons chuckled, his face wreathed in aromatic blue smoke as he puffed at his pipe.
"Because, unless I am very much mistaken, the gentleman concerned is staying at the very same hostelry as ourselves. I assume that he would have remained at The Priory in order to let us get well clear."
"What on earth are you talking about, Pons?"
Pons vouchsafed no answer, so pulled the car up in a small rest area at the end of the estate wall, where the road curved a little. We had not been sitting there more than ten minutes when Pons, who had been studying the road keenly in the rear view mirror, which he had adjusted to suit himself, gave a brief exclamation.
"Ah, here is our man now. Just start the engine and turn the vehicle around to block the road, will you?"
I was startled but did as he bid, and a few seconds later the big gray car glided up behind us and came to a halt with an imperious blaring of the horn. An irate figure at the wheel got out, and I recognized the tall man in the frock coat whom Pons had pointed out in the bar of The Roebuck.
Pons bounded out of the passenger seat with great alacrity and beamed at the furious figure.
"Good morning, Sir Clifford. Sir Clifford Ayres, is it not? How goes your patient's health?"
The tall, cadaverous man's jaw dropped and he looked at Pons sharply, tiny spots of red etched on his white cheeks.
"How dare you block the road, sir? So far as I am concerned, I do not know you. And I 'certainly do not discuss the private affairs of my patients with strangers."
"Come, Sir Clifford, you are remarkably obtuse for such an eminent man. If you do not remember me, you must recall my distinguished colleague, Dr. Parker?"
Sir Clifford made a little gobbling noise like a turkey and stepped forward with white features, as though he would have struck Pons.
"By God, sir, if this is a joke I do not like it. My presence here was confidential. If you are press, you will regret printing anything about me. I'll have you horsewhipped and thrown into prison. Clear the road or I will drive to the police immediately."
Pons chuckled and motioned to me to remove the car.
"Well, well, it does not suit your purpose to remember the Prince's Gate Reception last month, Sir Clifford. No matter. We shall meet again. Good day, sir."
And he politely tipped his hat to the apoplectic figure of Ayres, who got back in his car, and watched him drive on in silence. He was laughing openly as he rejoined me.
"Sir Clifford is noted for his fiery temper and bad manners, and he is running true to form today. Either he genuinely did not recognize me, or it obviously suits his purpose to plead ignorance. But it merely strengthens my suspicions about his patient."
"What is all this about, Pons?" I said as we drove on. "I must confess, the matter becomes more confusing by the minute."
"All in good time, my dear fellow. I must contact Brother Bancroft when we get back to the inn and then I must purchase a daily paper. We shall have a busy evening if I am not mistaken."
And with these cryptic utterances, I had to be content for the time being. We lunched well at the Roebuck, and though Pons was obviously on the lookout for Sir Clifford, the tall doctor did not put in an appearance. We were eating our dessert before Pons again broke silence.
"Come, Parker, I need your help. You are obviously more au fait than I with Sir Clifford. Just what is his forte?"
"In truth I have never met the man, Pons," I said. "Though you seemed to think he should know me. I do not move in such exalted circles. As a humble G.P.
"Tut, Parker, you are being too modest. My remark was merely meant to inform him that you were a fellow physician. We were introduced at the reception I spoke of, but there were many people there; we were face-to-face for only a few seconds; and I relied on the traditional obtuseness of the medical profession and felt confident that he would not recall me."
"Come, Pons," I protested. "That is a definite slur." Solar Pons chuckled with satisfaction.
"You are too easily ruffled, my dear fellow. You must practice indifference in such matters. But you have not answered my question."
"Sir Clifford? I know of his work, of course. He is one of the country's foremost specialists in heart disease and strokes."
"Indeed. I find that singularly interesting. This may not be so difficult as I had thought. If you will forgive me, I must telephone Bancroft. I will rejoin you for coffee in the lounge."
5
"Now, Parker, let us just put a few things together. In addition to the other small points we have already discussed, we have an eminent medical specialist staying in this small place and in attendance to someone within The Priory. Does not that suggest a fruitful line of inquiry?"
Solar Pons sat back in a comfortable leather chair in the coffee room at the Roebuck and regarded me through a cloud of blue pipe smoke. It was early evening and the place was quiet, only the occasional rumble of a cart or the higher register of a car penetrating the thick curtains.
"Certainly, Pons. The invalid in the sealed wing suffers from heart trouble."
"Elementary, Parker. But why?"
Pons' brows were knotted with thought, and his piercing eyes were fixed upon a corner of the ceiling as he pulled reflectively at the lobe of his right ear.
"I do not follow the question, Pons."
"It is no matter, Parker. Things are becoming clearer, and I should be able to arrive at some definite conclusion before the evening is out.
"You surprise me, Pons."
Solar Pons looked at me languidly, little sparks of humor dancing in his eyes.
"I have often heard you say so, Parker. I have spoken to Brother Bancroft and he has given me some interesting information on affairs in Eastern Europe."
"I should have thought this was hardly the time for it, Pons."
"Would you not? However, it is no matter. My thoughts were directed to the subject by the events of the last day's newspapers. Apparently things in Dresdania are not going too well. Her Highness is out of the country, and there is a concerted effort to unseat the government in her absence. Bancroft is most concerned."
"I must confess I am completely bewildered by your line of thought, Pons."
"Perhaps this will clarify matters."
Pons handed me a bundle of newspapers, among them The Times and The Daily Telegraph. I perused them with mounting puzzlement. In each case Pons had heavily ringed or marked certain items in ink. I caught the large heading of The Daily Maiclass="underline" PRINCE MIRKO APPEALS FOR CALM. Apparently things in the state Pons had mentioned were in serious disarray.
"I must admit that the Balkans have increasingly occupied the world's thoughts, Pons," I observed. "Matters are constantly in ferment there and it is certain that our own Foreign Office has a definite interest in maintaining peace in that area of the world. But I know little about such affairs…"
Solar Pons chuckled, holding his head to one side as he looked at me.