“Good heavens, Pons!” I ejaculated. “The thing has disappeared.”
“Never mind that,” said Solar Pons crisply. “Let us just make sure that no harm has come to old Grimstone.”
We hurried over the short stretch of ground that separated us from our client and found him lying exhausted; winded but still choleric. I put down my revolver on the stump of a nearby tree and examined him by the light of his own torch.
“He is all right, Pons,” I said, feeling his irregular pulse. “Just a fright.”
“It might have meant my death!” the old man snarled with astonishing vindictiveness. I helped him up.
“We had better get him back to the Manor, Pons.”
Solar Pons put up his hand. There was irritation on his face in the torchlight.
“There will be time enough for that later, Parker. Just douse the light. The game is far from over yet.”
His rigid attitude and rapt attention to the matter in hand affected even Grimstone for he stopped his mumbling and went to stand quietly by the tree-trunk. Pons had sunk to his knees and now that I had switched off the torch, was almost invisible in the darkness. He moved forward, urging me to follow and I kept close behind him, leaving Grimstone behind. I had not gone ten yards before I realised I had forgotten the revolver, but subsequent events happened so quickly that it became immaterial.
Pons put his hand on my arm and I came to a halt beside him. He bent down beside the path and there was just enough light to see that he was searching about on the ground with his disengaged hand. He gave a grunt as he found what he wanted; a loose stone which was bonded to the earth with frost. He prised it loose and rose to his feet.
He threw it outwards into the swamp; we waited a few seconds with straining ears. The sudden, sharp crack of breaking ice and then the loud splash which followed sounded thunderous in the silence. At the same moment there was a loud rustling of branches and the same ghastly blue phantom figure reappeared not thirty feet in front of us.
“Come on, Parker!” Pons rapped out exultantly. “My theory was correct.”
There were blundering noises ahead as I followed Pons, all fear forgotten in the sudden conviction that we had to deal with a mortal being and not some real phantom of the marsh. Ahead of us the bluish figure ducked and twisted with incredible agility, now appearing and then suddenly disappearing. The outline was curiously elongated and narrow and sometimes the blackness of night intervened for seconds at a time as the thing fled before us.
I stumbled on a root and Pons slackened a moment, turning back toward me. We were up among the farm buildings now and with the respite afforded the apparition had again disappeared.
“What was it, Pons?” I said breathlessly.
Solar Pons chuckled with satisfaction.
“It is mortal enough I fancy, Parker,” he said. “There is no time to explain now. We shall find the answer to our problems at D’Eath Farm unless my reasoning is very wide of the mark.”
We were close by the buildings and crept cautiously along in their shadow. Pons stopped once or twice and listened intently. He tried the door of one of the sheds. It opened quietly to his touch. He put his lips against my ear.
“As I thought, Parker. This has been used as the phantom’s changing-room.”
“He is not here now?”
“We shall see.”
Abruptly and without any attempt at silence he flung open the door. At the same moment a strong beam of light from the pocket-torch he carried stabbed out across the room. The place appeared to be empty. It was simply a brick and wood shell, with an oil lamp hanging from the dusty beams. It was a sombre place, full of shadow and darkness. In the centre were two wooden boxes; on the top of one a tin was standing, together with a mirror and some brushes.
Solar Pons chuckled. Once again I caught the acrid chemical flavour. He tentatively tested the material in the tin with his fingertip, held it against his face, sniffing deeply.
“A solution of phosphorus, Parker! As I suspected from the beginning. There is your phantom.”
“That is all very well, Pons,” said I. “But how can he disappear in such a manner?”
“We shall find out in a moment or two, Parker,” he said calmly, his sharp eyes stabbing about the room.
Then he did an astonishing thing. He stooped and quickly picked up the smaller of the two boxes, which had evidently served as a seat. He hurled it into the darkest corner of the shed. There was a sudden howl of pain. Then Pons had flung himself on to a vague shadow which stirred from the wall; there was a brief scuffle and the torch fell to the ground.
It was unbroken and I hastily ran to pick it up. By its light I could see that Pons was struggling with an astonishing creature that alternately glowed with unearthly blue light and then as rapidly disappeared as they rolled over. I ran to help him but my companion was already ripping the hideous mask from the creature. The dishevelled, almost pitiful face of a young man was revealed. He had been standing flat against the wall and in the black material he wore had been almost invisible.
“Allow me to present Mr. Norman Knight, our fellow guest from The Harrow Inn. Better known hereabouts as the crawling horror of Grimstone Marsh!”
XI
Pons chuckled grimly, looking down at the baffled figure on the ground.
“You seem to have recovered from your limp in an admirably short time, Mr. Knight.”
I stared at the strange tableau in bewilderment.
“I do not understand any of this, Pons.”
My companion held up his hand.
“All will be made clear in a very few moments, Parker.”
He crossed to the fallen man and helped him up on to the wooden box where he sat, an abject and dejected figure, his head in his hands.
“As you can see, Parker, an ingenious though simple stratagem. The figure of the marsh phantom is painted with the phosphorescent solution on the front only. By simply turning away from the viewer, Mr. Knight could render himself to all intents and purposes invisible on a dark night.”
I could not repress a gasp.
“So that was the answer, Pons!”
My companion nodded.
“On the occasions when the phantom suddenly disappeared, he was simply standing still in the centre of the marsh, keeping his back turned. As soon as he heard his victim move away he slipped off this hooded garment, returned to the farm here and secreted the evidence of his wicked charade.”
“But what was the point of all this, Pons?”
“You may well ask, Dr. Parker,” said young Knight, suddenly standing up and turning a white but composed face to us. “My masquerade may not be as wicked as you think. Rather regard it in the light of an angel with a flaming sword come to right a great wrong.”
“I am not denying your motives,” said Solar Pons, with a strange smile, “but you were very mistaken in adopting this particular method to achieve your ends.”
We were interrupted at this moment in a highly dramatic fashion.
We had been so absorbed in the drama before us that no one had noticed the faint shadow creeping closer from the door of the shed. Now a figure materialised in the faint beam of Pons’ torch. Silas Grimstone’s face was distorted with pain and anger and it was with a shock that I saw my pistol clutched in his trembling hands. Pons shot me a reproachful glance but his voice was firm and steady as he turned toward the old man.
“What does this mean, Mr. Grimstone?”
Grimstone stared at us with an ashen countenance; it was obvious his glazed eyes saw nothing but the form of young Knight. His voice, when it came was thick and clotted.
“So, you have come back from the marsh, have you? Well, I put you there once and I can do so again!”
He raised the revolver with a hoarse cry but Pons’ reaction was as quick as that of a striking snake. He cannoned into young Knight and the crack of the explosion and the tinkle of glass that followed showed that the bullet had gone through the window.
&nb
sp; “Run for your life!” Solar Pons commanded.
He extinguished the torch and I just caught a glimpse of Knight against the lighter square of the doorway before he had gone. There was another shot and then old Grimstone had rushed after him at a lurching run.
“I am sorry, Pons,” I said, as the lean form of my friend got to its feet.
Pons switched on his torch again and as he did so we heard the faint crack of an explosion outside on the marsh. “No time for recriminations, Parker. Pray that we shall be able to avoid another tragedy.”
Outside, we found the mist thickening a little but it was not difficult to see the direction our quarry had taken. Knight had wisely gone down into the swamp area, where he was obviously at home, instead of across the uplands where he would have made a good target for the revolver.
But the way soon grew twisting, among thick bushes and Pons twice stopped and examined broken reed-stems by the light of the torch. His lean, feral face bore the stamp of great anxiety.
“He has turned aside from the path, Parker. I fear the worst.”
A few seconds later we came upon my revolver, where it had fallen barrel first among the reeds. I bent to pick it up and found Pons’ hand on my arm.
“It would be unwise to venture farther, Parker.”
As he spoke there came an unearthly scream from the misty depths of the marsh ahead. It had such fear and horror in it that I think I shall remember it to my dying day and even Pons’ iron nerve was shaken. We stood there as it echoed and reechoed until it finally died away.
“It is all my fault, Pons,” I said. “After all your efforts on behalf of your client.”
Pons shook his head, a strange expression on his features in the light of the torch. He led the way back to the firmer footing of the path.
“Client or no, Parker, I think the world has seen the last of a damnable villain. If he has not been scared into permanent flight young Knight is the only person who can fill in the missing pieces for us.”
I put the revolver back into my pocket and as we stepped up on to the higher ground there was a low rustling in the bushes.
The dishevelled figure of young Knight stepped out on to the path, an obviously shaken and frightened man.
“I swear I did not mean it to end like this, Mr. Pons,” he said wildly.
Solar Pons looked at him for a long moment.
“Explanations will keep, Mr. Grimstone,” he said slowly. “I suggest we return to the Manor immediately and break the news to your relation.”
XII
“I am deeply shocked, but I cannot say I am entirely surprised at this ending, Mr. Pons.”
Miss Sylvia Grimstone’s face was grey and full of strain but she was quite in command of herself as she sat by the fire in the parlour at Grimstone Manor and poured the thick, hot coffee.
I took the cup from her gratefully, for I was frozen to the bone and the fire in the grate had sunk to a few glowing embers. Young Knight sat at a round table near the fire, midway between myself and Pons and our hostess.
“The police will be here within the hour, Miss Grimstone,” said Solar Pons, his restless eyes probing round the room. “I think some explanations are in order before they arrive.”
“I would be grateful for some light in this business, Pons, for I am completely in the dark.”
My companion smiled wryly as he put down his cup and looked across at the young man who sat, grey-faced and trembling before us.
“As I have said on more than one occasion, Parker, patience is not always your strong suit. However, let me get briefly to the point. As soon as Silas Grimstone had told me his extraordinary story I realised that there would be some perfectly simple explanation. Phantoms do not walk in my book, neither do the dead return to plague the living. Therefore, I was looking for an elaborate masquerade. I wanted a man who knew the marshes; a stranger possibly, who had taken the trouble to map the secret paths; one who probably knew something about Grimstone’s past and intended to frighten him by dressing up in the phosphorescent clothing we have already seen.”
“But for what purpose, Pons?”
“We are coming to that, Parker. I first needed the method by which the phantom appeared and disappeared in such a startling manner; then a possible refuge in the marsh where he could hide and don his disguise; and finally, some corroboration from others that the apparition was not limited to Grimstone alone. I obtained all three in fairly short order.”
Solar Pons stood up and went over to the fireplace; he kicked the fallen embers into life and Miss Grimstone hurried to put on some fresh billets of wood to feed the blaze thus engendered.
“It soon became evident that the costume which our friend here adopted and the method of the lightning disappearances could be explained by only one set of circumstances. My travels round the marsh made it self-evident that such appearances and disappearances would have to be extremely carefully stage-managed or the person involved in the masquerade would rapidly end a victim himself.
“It merely meant that the apparition—created by a luminous chemical solution—was painted on one side of the hooded cloak only. The person wearing it would then merely have to turn his back on his victim to become invisible. Jessel put me on to it when he said it disappeared as though someone had pulled down a blind. My deductions were proved right this evening in all respects when, as I suspected, I saw that the facial image strongly resembled Silas Grimstone himself.”
“Pons, you cannot mean it!”
“I was never more serious, my dear fellow,” said Solar Pons with a grim smile. “Our walk this morning and the conclusions I drew from the evidence presented to me, made it equally obvious that D’Eath Farm was the only conveniently situated building that would suit. Knight here could not only escape into the marsh but easily reach the main road. When I saw the padlocked door of the abandoned farm building and smelt the distinctive odour of phosphorus, my conclusions were hardened.”
“What about your third point, Pons?” I asked.
“That was the most important of all, Parker. The entire deception was designed as an accusation; to appeal to old Silas Grimstone’s guilty conscience. He had to be convinced that he—and he alone—had seen a ghost. Unfortunately for our friend here, others became aware of the deception. Among them Dr. Strangeways and the late Tobias Jessel.”
Knight was already on his feet with a white face.
“I was not responsible for Jessel’s death, Mr. Pons! I swear I only intended to frighten Grimstone into a confession.”
“I am well aware of that,” said Solar Pons gently. “Jessel undoubtedly fell into the dyke in a drunken stupor.”
“What about the cuts on his hands, Pons?” I asked.
My friend shook his head.
“They were typical of death under those circumstances, Parker. The cuts were caused by Jessel’s frenzied efforts to get out of the marsh before the cold overcame him. The wounds were made by the jagged edges of the broken ice.”
Solar Pons turned away from Miss Grimstone and Knight, who slowly resumed his seat.
“To get back to my point, Parker. I strongly suspected that the so-called phantom had carefully prepared his scheme and that he wished no one but Grimstone to see the figure he had created. You may remember I was particularly careful to ask Grimstone about the circumstances of the occasion when both he and his niece saw the apparition.”
“I remember, Pons.”
“You will recall that Miss Grimstone suddenly appeared from behind a fringe of bushes, and I commended that fact to you. Knight did not even know she was there. In fact he was himself frightened by her sudden shriek and immediately made off. Is that not so?”
“Indeed, Mr. Pons.”
Young Knight lowered his head and looked the very figure of contrition. I shot a puzzled glance at Pons and then at Miss Grimstone, who sat behind the coffee pot with tightly compressed lips. The clock ticked sonorously in the corner and it seemed impossible that the incredible drama of an
hour ago had taken old Silas Grimstone so dramatically from us.
“You may remember also, Parker, that I was particularly intent on discovering the circumstances of the phantom’s appearances to the old man. No true apparition, if such a thing existed, would make a noise when it appeared or disappeared; therefore, it was manufactured. We have already dealt with the matter of any traces it made being swallowed up by the mud and water, though there was enough evidence from the reeds and broken grasses to establish the passage of some heavy body. The zig-zagging motion the thing made was because it had to keep to the firm paths to avoid being sucked under.
“You may also recall, Parker, I took some trouble when we were out on the marsh, in examining the dyke near Grimstone Manor, the spot where both old Grimstone and Tobias Jessel had their frightening experiences with the fiery blue figure. Jessel was not meant to see the phantom. Knight was hanging about in his guise, down below the dyke, waiting to see if old Grimstone was coming out. He did not hear Jessel walking along the road above and thus blundered on him accidentally. I submit that this reading is correct as I could not hear your footsteps, Parker, when I was at the foot of the bank, a long way below the level of the road.”
“You are perfectly correct, Mr. Pons,” said Knight with a groan. “It happened exactly as you said. And I can swear that I was nowhere near poor Jessel on the night of his death.”
“I believe you, Mr. Knight,” said Solar Pons slowly. “And can so testify to the police if necessary.”
I looked at my companion in amazement.
“This case began with a client being terrified by a phantom, Pons, and now it appears to be ending with the client as the villain and the attempted murderer as an innocent man!”
“Does it not, Parker,” said Solar Pons with a dry chuckle.
There was silence for a brief moment. It was broken by young Knight who seemed to be recovering his spirits as Pons proceeded. “How did you come to suspect me, Mr. Pons?”
Dark Detectives Page 22