by Basil Copper
"You mean old Mr. Grimstone? We have been out there earlier this evening. I mentioned the matter, but as you have already indicated, I fear it will be a long time before you collect your fees."
Strangeways smiled grimly.
"There are more ways than one of obtaining satisfaction," he said levelly. "He may need medical treatment urgently one of these days."
He chuckled throatily and reached out his hand for the glass Pons was proffering him. I raised my own and found a young man at my elbow. He blinked round at us.
"I am sorry to intrude, gentlemen. My name is Norman Knight. We are fellow guests, I believe."
"Oh, certainly, Mr. Knight. Do join us. May I get you something?"
"No thank you, Mr. Pons." The young man shook his head. "I still have the best part of a pint here. It was just that I understood you were a doctor. I do a good deal of walking hereabouts and I have had the misfortune to turn my ankle earlier tonight. I wondered if Dr. Strangeways might take a look at it."
Strangeways smiled benevolently at the fair-haired young man.
"Save your money, Mr. Knight. Unless there is a bone broken—and I'll wager you would know it if there were—a cold compress left on all night will do the trick."
"Thank you, Dr. Strangeways."
Knight laughed, sipping at his tankard. He tried the weight on his right foot.
"No, I do not think there is anything broken. But it aches infernally and makes me limp."
"A towel soaked in cold water, then," said Dr. Strangeways crisply. "Bind it tightly round the ankle and leave it on all night. You will find it greatly improved by morning."
Strangeways put down his glass.
"And now my dinner is waiting in the dining room yonder, Mr. Pons, if you will excuse me."
Pons nodded and we watched as the huge form of the doctor threaded its way through the crowd.
"At least the medical profession in this country is not on the make," said young Knight carelessly, putting down his glass on the bar.
"You have been abroad much, then?" asked Solar Pons.
"Around the world a good deal, Mr. Pons," said the young man. "And now, if you will excuse me I will say goodnight also. I must put the good doctor's remedy into practice."
He shook hands pleasantly and limped over toward the street door which was more clear than the route taken by Strangeways. He was indeed limping heavily on his right foot.
"The sooner that young man gets into bed the better, Pons," I said. "He has most likely strained a ligament."
"I have no doubt your diagnosis is correct, Parker," said Pons.
I looked around in the smoky interior but could see nothing of Tobias Jessel. Solar Pons smiled.
"He left a good ten minutes ago, Parker. I fancy he had no desire for words with Dr. Strangeways again. Reading between the lines it must have been an interesting interview."
"Superstition versus scientific determinism, Pons," I said. My companion looked at me approvingly.
"Or in layman's terms the truth as seen by Tobias Jessel against the doctor's diagnosis of d.t.'s."
"You may be right, Pons," I said cautiously. "You must admit the whole thing sounds fantastic. If we had not been consulted by Silas Grimstone and had the testimony of himself and his niece, in addition to that of Jessel, you would have dismissed it out of band."
"Perhaps, Parker, perhaps," admitted Solar Pons pleasantly. And he said not a word further on the subject between then and the time we retired to bed.
7
I woke quite early from a refreshing sleep the following morning to find thick white mist lying damply at the window. I dressed quickly and descended to the pleasant atmosphere of the hotel dining room. Early as I was, Pons was already at the table. He looked fresh and alert and greeted me cordially.
"We have a good deal before us today, Parker, so I would advise a hearty breakfast."
He was already halfway through a substantial plate of bacon, kidney and eggs. I lost no time in joining him, my companion pouring the scalding coffee for me from the polished pewter pot. I caught a glimpse of young Knight seated a few tables away and there were several other people, in thick clothing, at various tables.
"There appears to be a curious influx of visitors, Pons," I said, surprise evident on my face.
Solar Pons chuckled.
"Does there not, Parker? A walking party, if you please, on the marshes at this time of year. I salute the hardihood of my compatriots."
"How is our friend’s foot, Pons?" I remarked.
"Still troubling him a little, though it has much eased."
I reached out for the hot buttered toast brought by the old waiter who had served us the previous day and ordered another pot of coffee for the two of us.
"What are your plans for today, Pons?"
"I have a desire to see something of the marshes, Parker. There is nothing like penetrating to the heart of a mystery."
"That is all very well, Pons," said I, my mouth half full of buttered toast, "but did not the local people say they are extremely dangerous?"
"That is precisely the reason I wish to go," said Pons. "The sensible man takes wise precautions and I have already procured a large-scale Ordnance Survey map of the area, which our worthy landlord sells at the reception desk."
"I see, Pons. I hope you know what you are doing."
Solar Pons smiled enigmatically.
"I think I can read a map with some accuracy, Parker. No doubt your excellent eyesight and your army experience will provide admirable backing. You have your revolver, I take it?"
I looked at Pons in surprise.
"It is in my valise upstairs."
"I would suggest that you get it once breakfast is over, my dear fellow."
"You surely do not expect danger in daylight, Pons. So far, as I understand, this phantom does not appear except at night.'
"The Bible says something about terror at noonday. I would feel a great deal easier when venturing into the marshes, if you were carrying it."
"I will certainly bring it, Pons."
"Excellent," said Solar Pons, his keen eyes raking the room and particularly the hearty groups of walkers at the adjoining tables.
"I notice from the map that there is a solid path which leads into the heart of Grimstone Marsh from a point near old Grimstone's causeway. I would suggest we make that our objective this morning and perhaps call at the manor later and see if we can solicit some lunch from our client."
My gloom at his words must have shown on my face for Pons chuckled again and added, "Come, Parker, it is not so bad. The manor is on our way, after all, and we can always return here if need be."
"As you wish, Pons. I am at your disposal."
Solar Pons nodded.
"Finish your coffee then, and let us be off."
As we left the dining room we passed quite close to Knight He smiled pleasantly and made preparations for leaving his own table. I went to my room, dressed in some warm clothes suitable to our expedition and with the butt of my pistol making a comforting pressure against my shoulder muscles, descended to the hall of the hotel where Pons was waiting.
Knight was making his way back to his room again; he was still limping, though making light of the effort, and I noticed that Pons' glance rested on him sympathetically as he gained the head of the stairs. A few moments later we were out in the bitter air of the street and, the mist lifting a little, set off along the lonely road that led across the marsh in the direction o Grimstone Manor.
We walked in silence, each occupied with his own thoughts our feet striking back echoes from the pallid blanket of vapor that edged the road. Once again I was struck with the exceptional melancholy of these cheerless wastes and even Pons -- seemed more than usually reflective, the streams of blue smoke from his pipe wreathing back over his shoulder.
We had gone about halfway to the causeway linking Silas Grimstone's manor house with the main road when we heard the sound of hooves and the faint murmur of men's voices on the highway in
front of us. Pons put his hand on my arm and drew me to a halt, his face expressing intense concentration.
"Listen, Parker. Horse and cart. Five men by the sound of it."
Sure enough, two minutes later spectral figures materialized from the mist like negatives developing in the photographer's dish. A black horse, eyes wide and staring through the whiteness, drew a rough farm cart whose ironbound wheels made an unpleasant grating noise on the icy road. The men who confronted us were bareheaded and the stiff form beneath the rough tarpaulin on the cart instantly supplied the reason.
I glanced at Pons, noting that there were five men in the group, as he had already indicated. Heavy boots protruded from beneath the tarpaulin, encrusted with ice.
"Good morning, Mr. Pons! I am afraid this is a sad start to the day."
The massive, bearded form of Dr. Strangeways detached itself from the bareheaded villagers and came toward us.
"Indeed," said Solar Pons, moving over to stare downward at the somber burden the cart contained. "A drowning?"
"A drowning, certainly," said Strangeways brusquely. "Though whether he went into the marsh intentionally is another matter. I would be glad of your opinion, doctor."
He bent over the cart and drew back the canvas from the dead face. Ice glistened in among the stiffened fronds of hair and the face was so distorted from lack of oxygen that I had some difficulty in making out the visage of Tobias Jessel. Pons came to stand at my side and puffed unemotionally at his pipe.
"I fear your money was ill-spent, Pons," I said.
"Perhaps, Parker, perhaps," said my companion absently. He fixed the doctor with a piercing eye.
"Just what did you mean by saying that Jessel may not have gone into the marsh intentionally, doctor?"
The big doctor stamped his feet on the ground, an uneasy expression on his face.
"It is only what these people have been saying," he said defensively. "There has been some ill feeling in the past about this fellow's drunken habits. He was not short of enemies on the marsh."
"That is a serious charge, doctor," said Solar Pons. "Let us just see what the indications are."
He pulled back the canvas further, revealing more detail of the old- man's pathetic, stiffened form.
"There are some cuts on the hands, Pons," I said. "As though he had been defending himself."
"I have not overlooked them, Parker," said Solar Pons languidly.
He was busy with his magnifying lens while the four villagers in rough clothing stood awkwardly around the cart. They looked like nothing so much as mourners at a funeral.
"Where was he found?" Pons asked crisply.
"At the foot of a dyke yonder, about half a mile back, sir," said one of the men, turning to point into the white mist in front of us. "Jethro Turner here was on his way to work. The mist happened to part and he saw the body in the ice at the edge of the marsh."
"That's right, sir," said the man referred to soberly. "There was nothing I could do for him, sir, so I set out for the village to rouse Dr. Strangeways here."
"You have behaved correctly, Turner."
Pons turned back to Strangeways.
"You have reported it to the coroner, of course?"
Strangeways flushed and there was a defensive look on his features.
"My aide is on his way there now, Mr. Pons. There is little else we can do until perform the post mortem."
"Of course not," said Pons. "I- should be glad of a copy of your findings."
"I shall never forget the look on his face, sir," said the man Turner, inclining his lugubrious countenance toward us.
"Death is always a shock," said Strangeways roughly.
He jerked his head at the two of us.
"We must get on. A pleasant walk to you, gentlemen."
The man holding the horse's head urged the beast forward and the sad cortege moved on through the mist. Pons and I walked in silence for a while, my companion smoking furiously, his brows knotted.
"What do you make of it, Parker?" he said at length.
"It is an unpleasant business, Pons," I replied. "And things look black, particularly in view of this phantom of the marsh tale. Do you think Jessel could have seen something and been pushed in? His murder obviously took place when he was on his way home from the inn last night."
Solar Pons shook his head.
"You have a point, Parker, but it is too early as yet to jump to conclusions. We must just reserve judgment."
"And there is the matter of the cuts on his hands, Pons. Supposing he were trying to ward off the blows of a knife'?"
Solar Pons ejected a plume of fragrant smoke from between his large teeth.
"Nevertheless, he drowned, Parker," he said enigmatically. "He was not stabbed to death. Ah, unless I am mistaken, here comes the first of the sun!"
Rays of light were beginning to penetrate the mist and in a quarter of an hour it started to disperse, revealing the flat desolate landscape I had already come to detest. We were almost at the causeway of Grimstone Manor by now and Pons paused to consult his large-scale map.
"The path should be about here, Parker," he said, leaving the road and leading me down toward the edge of the marsh.
"Be careful, Pons," I called, following him more gingerly.
He smiled briefly, glancing sharply about him as he led the way without hesitation among the tussocks as the mist cleared, though a faint haze still hung over the surface of the reeds.
"Just follow me closely, Parker. I fancy I shall not lead you astray."
"I am not so sure about that, Pons," I said wryly, as I followed him among the rustling reed-stems with some apprehension.
Pons ignored my remark as he was concentrating on the map, his sharp eyes stabbing about him. Undoubtedly he could read signs which were invisible to me but my confidence grew as we proceeded. Not once did my companion appear to put a foot wrong and within a few minutes the causeway and the roof of Grimstone Manor were completely out of sight.
"You will note, Parker," said Solar Pons, pausing briefly to relight his pipe, "that the marsh proper is of a far deeper and greener texture than that of the path. And you will see, if you look yonder, that the reed-stems are encased in ice, proving that water covers them normally."
"You are right, Pons," I said, after careful observation. "I thought you had done something clever."
Solar Pons looked up from his map with a wry smile.
"The master himself was not immune to such criticism. It is always a mistake to explain one's reasoning processes to the layman."
"You do me an injustice, Pons."
"Perhaps, Parker, perhaps. But I must confess there is an occasional sting in your otherwise innocuous remarks. You are improving considerably."
He took another glance at the map and then led the way unhesitatingly forward.
"If we keep our direction by the sun here, I do not think we shall go far wrong. But dusk or nightfall would be a different matter indeed."
"But what do you expect to find, Pons?"
"Evidence, Parker. Or at least some trace, however subtle, of human foot before us."
I followed cautiously in his tracks, pausing now and again to look round at our misty surroundings with a misgiving I could not suppress.
"I must say, Pons, I do not care for these marshes. They are bleak and inhospitable in the extreme."
"And yet people make their living here, Parker, and seem reasonably content to do so."
"Except for Strangeways."
Solar Pons turned and gave me a penetrating look from his piercing eyes.
"Ah, you have noticed that? A talented man dissatisfied with the sphere in which circumstances have placed him. At least, that is my reading."
"There is more to the doctor than appears on the surface, Pons."
"We shall see," he replied equably.
He led the way forward ever deeper into the marsh, our movements occasionally cloaked by thick undergrowth which grew on exposed humps of land thrust a
bove the surrounding bog. A thin mist still hovered over the reeds but it was possible to see some way ahead. It was with considerable relief that I saw a large hummock of firmer ground ahead and then outlines of a dilapidated stone building. The harsh cries of birds occasionally broke the silence but apart from that and the faint noise our own footsteps made we might have been alone in the universe.
Pons folded the map and scrutinized it closely.
"Ah, this should be the place, Parker. A disused shepherd's.. hut. Some of this land was once reclaimed from the marsh but as fast as gains were made, other areas were abandoned to their former state."
"You look as though you expect to find something here."
"Do I not. We have at least three points to aim for this morning and if we do not end up a little wiser my name is not Solar Pons."
We were off the path now and walking uphill toward the stone-built ruins. Seabirds cried harshly in the strengthening sunlight as we gained the island—for it was little more— that rose from the surrounding marshland.
A sudden explosion sent ducks whirring upward as we gained the edge of the ruins. I must confess my nerves were a little on edge: I had my hand on the butt of my revolver before Pons' warning glance brought me to myself. A burly, tweeded form lowered the shotgun as we came up. The man smiled affably.
"Good morning, gentlemen. Joshua Tebble at your service. Nothing like roast duck with your potatoes and green peas. There, Judy!"
The bright-eyed retriever went dashing into the marsh and emerged wetly a minute or two later carrying the bedraggled corpse of a plump duck in her mouth.
"An excellent meal, as you say, Mr. Tebble," I put in.
The tanned man looked at us shrewdly as he thrust the duck carelessly into the large canvas bag he carried slung over one shoulder.
"Staying in the neighborhood, are you?"
"We are at the inn yonder for a few days," put in Solar Pons. "It seems an agreeable district."
"It's all right," said Tebble shortly. "Though if you were farming, like me, you would not say so. Difficult terrain for agriculture, gentlemen. Too much salt marsh hereabouts. And the land is inclined to flood at high tide in winter. Still, it's a living."
He ejected a cartridge from the breech of his shotgun. "Shouldn't get wandering off the path, gentlemen. Highly dangerous on these marshes. Good day to you!"