"There, Parker, if you would be so kind as to add your considerable weight…"
I quickly put my hand beneath the edge of the slab, which Pons had levered from the floor, and we swiftly lifted it out onto an adjoining flagstone. It was immensely heavy but did not appear to be bonded in any way, though considerable quantities of dust fell into the gaping hole disclosed. I gingerly directed the beam of the flasnlight downward, exposing a flight of ancient steps. Pons was already through and he reached up to take the flashlight from me.
I followed him down. The air was dry and musty with a faint aroma of cloves. We had not gone more than two or three yards before Pons gave a sharp exclamation.
"I do not think we need go into the vault proper, Parker. Unless I am much mistaken this is what we are looking for."
He pointed downward to where a large bundle wrapped in sacking lay against the wall, on one of the broad stone steps. He approached and lifted one end. There was a chinking noise and he grunted at the weight.
"I think it will take the two of us, Parker."
He pulled aside the sacking and exposed what looked like a large wicker picnic basket. I got my hands under the end and tested the weight. As Pons had indicated, it was considerable. Pons took the flashlight under his arm and we each lifted one end of the sacking-wrapped hamper. Though it was only a few yards to the vault entrance, I was already perspiring by the time we got there.
Once in the church it was easier, for we could both stretch properly, which we had been unable to do in the confines of the staircase. Only a quarter of an hour had passed before we had replaced the slab. Pons was most meticulous about restoring the area to its former state and was not satisfied until we had carefully brushed the dust back into the cracks round the slab.
I was impatient to be off but he was at last satisfied and we carried our heavy burden back through the darkened church to the main door. There was no one about and Pons locked it behind him.
"What will you tell the Rector?" I asked.
"That I inadvertently took the key with me," said my companion.
He smiled.
"It is only a white lie, after all."
We got back through the churchyard without mishap. Miss Stuart's house was in darkness except for two lights in the upper storey of The Old Rectory, which undoubtedly came from her bedroom and that of the housekeeper. Pons led the way through into the study, after ostentatiously locking and bolting the front door.
We put our burden on a large oak table in a corner of the library, pulling the heavy curtains across the windows before switching on the lights. We waited five minutes in case Miss Stuart came downstairs but the silence continued unbroken. When he was satisfied that we were unlikely to be disturbed, Solar Pons sat down at the table and lit his pipe.
Blue clouds of aromatic smoke curled lazily toward the ceiling in the warm air as he gazed at the object on the table almost dreamily. He carefully unwrapped the sacking, revealing the big, dusty old hamper.
"What do you make of it, Parker?"
"I am completely in the dark, Pons."
I sat down at the table opposite Pons and studied my friend's lean, ascetic face carefully.
"Victorian hamper, Parker. Not much used. Probably kept normally in the box room of a large mansion."
"That's all very well, Pons," I replied. "But what does it contain? No doubt you already know, judging by your mysterious antics tonight."
Solar Pons smiled, his eyes dancing with mischief.
"Gold and silver undoubtedly. Patience, friend Parker. You will know as much as I do within a few minutes."
The handles of the hamper were secured with thick cord but Pons produced a folding knife from the kit of tools in his oilskin pack and swiftly cut them. He opened the lid. I craned forward to look' into the interior but was disappointed at seeing nothing but a plain white cloth.
Pons carefully eased the edges of the cloth outward; they had become stiff with the years. I then realized that it was nothing more than a bed sheet, though the linen was of no ordinary quality. I gave a gasp as the cloth fell away from the overhead light winked back in a thousand reflections from gold and silver surfaces. The whole of the interior of the hamper was stuffed with silver plate; massive silver candlesticks; gold coins; statuettes and other objects d'art.
Tissue paper had been carefully placed between the various items but it looked as though the packing had been hastily disturbed, for the owner had undoubtedly thrown the sheet over the top of the material without first covering it with tissue. Pons carefully lifted out a solid silver statuette of a prancing horse, one of a pair, golden coins cascading to the table as he did so.
"Good heavens, Pons!" I exclaimed. "These things must be worth thousands."
Solar Pons nodded, his eyes narrowed.
"Many thousands, Parker. These snuff boxes in the corner are by Fabergé, unless I miss my guess. Just take a look at this."
I glanced at the base of the silver statuette Pons was holding. Apart from the hallmark, something was incised in the surface. It took a moment or two to make it out.
"It looks like a maypole, Pons."
"Exactly, Parker. The same sign as the inn. And the same title."
"I do not follow, Pons." "Tut, Parker. Learn to use your ratiocinative processes.
These are the armorial bearings of the Cresswells."
"But why would they want to put these things in their family vault, Pons?"
Solar Pons concealed his rising irritation superbly. "Undoubtedly they did not, Parker. This treasure has been stolen."
6
There was a long silence between us, broken eventually by the church clock striking eleven. As its echoes died away, Solar Pons replaced the statuette in the hamper, together with the gold coins.
"Miss Stuart must know nothing of this for the time being, Parker. At least until we have secured our man." I stared at Pons in rising irritation.
"I am sure I do not know what you are talking about, Pons."
Solar Pons finished rewrapping the hamper in sacking.
"You shall know a good deal more before you leave this room, my dear fellow. Just hand me down that gazetteer from the shelf behind you."
I gave him the volume and he studied it, his brows knotted in concentration through the wreaths of tobacco smoke.
"Ah, here we are. Cresswell Manor. The seat of the first Baron Cresswell. Well, we do not require all that ancient history. Ah, here we are. Last of the line, Sir Roger Cresswell, Grenadier Guards, killed in heavy fighting during the first months of the last war. Unmarried, therefore no issue. The empty house was burned down in a mystery fire in 1915. That is significant, Parker."
"I do not see why, Pons."
"That is because you are not applying your mind properly to the problems. It limits the time factor, do you not see. The mansion 'did not exist after 1915. Therefore, I have only to look between the turn of the century and the outbreak of war."
"For what, Pons?"
"For the date of the robbery, Parker."
Solar Pons had produced his sheet of paper from his pocket and was studying it intently. I recognized it as that taken from the Bible earlier. Pons passed it over to me. Once again I read the baffling set of verses.
And as he went out of the temple, one of his disciples said unto him,
Master, see what manner of stones and what buildings are here.
Therefore I said unto the children of Israel, Ye shall
eat the blood of no manner of flesh.