by Basil Copper
Pons had spent the afternoon going over the grounds of the manor making sure that all the doors and windows were secure before dusk. Now we waited for Miss Grimstone to bring the coffee and brandy she had promised against the querulous protests of her uncle.
"Our vigil here this evening?" There was contempt in Pons' voice.
"Do not trouble yourself about that, Mr. Grimstone. There are some other matters I would like to discuss. You did not tell me about your brother. Your business partner—the one who went to Australia."
There was a long hush in the room and the old man's complexion seemed to have turned yellow. He struggled up in his fireside chair with a shriveled hand to the shawl at his throat.
"It was all a long time ago, Mr. Pons. That rascal went abroad and I have neither seen nor heard from him to this day, thank God!"
"Why do you say that, Mr. Grimstone?"
"Because he was a villain. The firm would have crashed if I had not taken control."
"That is your supposition, Mr. Grimstone?"
The old man put his head on one side and surveyed my companion grimly.
"It is indeed, Mr. Pons. And it is true. The affair is an old one and may be consulted in the stock exchange records." His eyes expressed malevolent distrust as he stared at the detective.
"You seem to be forgetting your purpose here, Mr. Pons.
My life is threatened by this ghastly thing from the marsh and you are talking ancient history."
Solar Pons smiled thinly and put up his hand to silence our client.
"I have not been idle, Mr. Grimstone. I have a mind to put my theories to the test this evening. You have no objection to taking part in a little experiment?"
Silas Grimstone stared at Pons suspiciously as he went to the window and drew the curtain, then rubbed his strong slender fingers together.
"Excellent! There is a mist coming up from the marsh. Ideal for our purposes. You have no objection to a little walk in an hour or so, suitably wrapped up? If we cannot find the phantom of the marsh—and it is pointless to go looking for him in such a wide area—then we must call him to us."
"Mr. Pons!" The old man's voice cracked with agitation. He glared at my companion, pushing aside Miss Sylvia Grimstone as she tried to mollify him with a cup of coffee.
The old man's niece had a faint smile on her face as she turned to me. She put the cup at my elbow and another in front of Pons who had now resumed his seat.
"You want me to go out there? You are using me as some sort of decoy, sir?"
Solar Pons nodded over the rim of his coffee cup.
"By all means, Mr. Grimstone," he agreed cheerfully. "You were out in your stable yard yesterday evening when we arrived, quite unprotected. I shall not require you to do much more tonight. Merely to show yourself and leave the rest to Parker and myself."
There was suppressed excitement in Miss Grimstone's eyes. "Ah, you intend to be on hand, Mr. Pons."
"Of course, Miss Grimstone. I would not risk your uncle's health or well-being for one second," said Solar Pons smoothly. "Parker has his revolver—we will see whether this phantom is vulnerable to bullets or something more ethereal."
There was a strange, twisted expression on old Silas Grimstone’s face. He nodded once or twice as though he agreed with my companion's suggestion, then cocked his head.
"What is your plan, Mr. Pons?"
"That is better, Mr. Grimstone," said Solar Pons, tenting his fingers on the table before him. "I have formed certain theories and considered a number of suppositions. Now I have to test them in the field, as it were. I cannot do that unless we give this creature tangible reason for venturing out tonight. He will not do so unless he knows that you are abroad."
Grimstone's expression changed to extreme alarm. He looked furtively around him as though he expected to find the subject of his fears at his elbow in the flickering firelight.
"You do not mean to say he is watching us?"
Solar Pons inclined his head.
"He must do so, Mr. Grimstone. That is the only possible conclusion one can draw. Otherwise, how can he appear only to you, except when others may be about by accident? No, Mr. Grimstone, there is a person of some cunning and persistence at the bottom of this business. And we must draw him out if we are to apprehend him."
"What do you wish me to do, Mr. Pons?" The room was silent.
My friend's coffee cup rattled with a faint clink.
"You must follow my instructions absolutely to the letter, Mr. Grimstone, if things are to be brought to a successful conclusion."
The old man looked soberly at Pons, fearful thoughts reflected in his cadaverous eyes.
"Very well, Mr. Pons. I will do as you say. What are your proposals?"
10
"There he goes, Parker! Quickly! It is vitally important that we keep him in sight at all times."
I followed Pons through the thick mist, marveling once again at the unerring manner in which my companion found his way. The fog was thickening and even Pons, I think, was hard put to it to make out the indistinct figure of old Silas Grimstone. The night was dark and cold, the mist rising thickly from the surface of the swamp; altogether it was ideal for Pons' daring plan though it would be extremely dangerous if things went wrong.
I had my revolver in my pocket, the safety catch on, but with my hand on the butt ready for action if need be. A number of disconnected thoughts were chasing themselves through my mind as we hurried along. Pons' plan was simple but like all such things, brilliant in its very elementariness. It combined daring, with some danger to ourselves, but with a minimum of risk to our client.
Miss Grimstone had driven us out in the buggy along the main road toward the spot where it met the path which led through the swamp to the ruined buildings of D'Eath Farm. Silas Grimstone was to leave his niece at a predetermined time and walk along the path, keeping to the firm and high ground which led to the farm before it reached the swamp proper.
Pons and I had left the stopping place half an hour earlier; my companion had marked out another path on the map which led to the heart of the swamp. Once in position, we were to walk along our path in the direction of the farm. In this way, if the apparition appeared, we should be between it and the farm buildings and cut off any possible retreat into the swamp.
The most practical feature to my mind was Pons' inspiration in making Grimstone carry a small but powerful flashlight, ostensibly to light his way. But, it would serve two purposes—to draw the apparition to its intended victim and at the same time denote Grimstone's exact position to us so we could protect him. Unfortunately, mist had closed in soon after we had gained the old path and Pons became extremely anxious about the success of the plan.
Grimstone was due to leave his niece at exactly eleven P.M. and at precisely that moment as indicated by the second hand of my watch, Pons had led the way back in the direction of the farm buildings. He had allowed fifteen minutes for old Grimstone to get to the farm but we should be in sight of him long before that.
The mist grew thicker and I was becoming more and more anxious until Pons' reassuring cry. A moment later I saw a thin beam of light close to the ground, coming along the causeway far off to our right. It caught only a momentary glimpse; then the thick white vapor closed in again.
"We must hurry, Parker. I should never forgive myself if anything went wrong."
"We are within striking distance now, Pons. You could not have foreseen this damnable fog."
"Even so, we are dealing with an old man who is deliberately exposing himself to danger at my request."
Pons took the path so rapidly I was hard put to keep up with him. The mist was thinning a little now and we again saw the beam of light dancing across the ground. Pons halted, taking stock of the situation.
"We must be careful now, Parker. We have to make sure we do not alarm whoever may be concealed out here. Ah, that is better."
For, as we stepped forward from behind a screen of bushes we had a clear view of a
ridge some two hundred yards off where old Silas Grimstone was advancing with his torch. Far to the right, invisible behind the hump was the road on which Miss Grimstone was waiting with the buggy. We were in the hollow of the swamp and to our left the almost invisible path wound until it reached the higher ground on which stood D'Eath Farm.
Pons led the way, stepping meticulously along a path that was quite invisible to me. All around us in the icy night was the presence of the swamp; I was uneasily aware of it as though it were some living, sinister presence in the darkness, just waiting for a false step to drag us down into the bottomless depths. Pons' iron nerves seemed to armor him against such treacherous thoughts and I fingered the chill surface of my revolver, taking solid comfort from its reassuring metal.
The beams of light were momentarily invisible to us due to a rise in the ground and I realized that we were coming out on to the firmer terrain which led to the abandoned farm buildings. As we started uphill I was suddenly brought to a halt by an anguished cry against the silence of the night. It was repeated three times, each time more urgently and there was such fear in it that I felt the hairs on the nape of my neck rising; my flesh crawled.
Solar Pons gave an exclamation of anger and seized my arm.
"He is more clever than I thought, Parker! If I do not mistake the situation he is coming from the roadside and not from the farm. There is not a moment to lose!"
I tucked my arms into my sides and ran until my lungs were bursting but Pons was fleeter, covering the uphill path at a tremendous rate. As we climbed we were able to see the drama that was being played out on the rough upland track leading to the abandoned farm.
To my relief Silas Grimstone appeared to be unharmed, for we could see his light bobbing not more than a hundred yards in front of us. Behind him, moving at an alarming speed was an horrific apparition I cannot forget. Bluish yellow, seen first as a halo of crawling flame, then as a hard-edged figure, it appeared to float erratically.
The figure was indeterminately tall, surmounted by a hideous face lapped in baleful fire that changed shape as we watched. It was gaining on Grimstone with every second and with a last terrified look over his shoulder the old man at last saw us coming to the rescue, for his torch altered course as our paths closed.
"For God's sake save me, Mr. Pons!" he croaked with the last of his breath before sinking down exhausted on to the path about fifty paces away.
"Parker—" Pons ordered coolly, "two rounds and aim high, if you please."
The phantom blue figure was still coming in short hopping motions. The thing could not have seen us running against the dark background of bushes but as it was now alarmingly close to the fallen figure of the old man, I fired two shots into the air. The flash of flame and the detonation of the explosions seemed incredibly loud. I was momentarily blinded but when I opened my eyes again the marsh was empty; that blue, writhing figure might never have existed.
"Good heavens, Pons!" I cried. "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 recovering. I put down my revolver on a nearby stump 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. "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 stump. 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 to him, leaving Grimstone behind. I had not gone ten yards before I realized I had forgotten the revolver, but subsequent events happened so quickly that it became immaterial.
Pons put his hand on my arm as I came to a halt beside him. He bent down beside the path: there was just enough light to see that he was groping about on the ground. He gave a grunt as he found what he wanted—a loose stone which was frost-bond to the earth. He prised it loose and rose to his feet.
He threw it outward 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 yelled. "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 actual 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 among the farm buildings now and with the respite afforded, the apparition had again disappeared.
"What was it, Pons?" I asked 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 his flashlight stabbed out across the room. The place appeared empty. It was simply a brick and wood shell, with an oil lamp hanging from a dusty beam. It was a somber place, of shadow and darkness. In the center 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 flavor. 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," he said calmly, his sharp eyes assayed 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, as Pons flung himself onto a vague shadow which stirred from the wall; there was a brief scuffle that knocked the light to the ground.
It was unbroken and I hastily ran to pick it up. By its light I could see Pons 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 disheveled, almost pitiful face of a young man was revealed. He had been standing flat against the wall, made invisible by the black material he wore.
"Allow me to present Mr. Norman Knight, our fellow guest from The Harrow Inn. Better known hereabouts as the crawling horror of Grimstone Marsh!"
11
Pons chuckled grimly, looking down at the baffled figure on the ground.
"Y
ou 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 slumped, 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 center of the marsh, keeping his back turned. As soon as he heard his victim move away he slipped off this hooded garment, returned to this shed 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 we had not noticed a faint shadow creeping closer from the door of the shed. Now a figure materialized 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 be turned toward the old man.