The Secret Files of Solar Pons

1

"There are some things, my dear Parker,into which it is better not to inquire too closely. They are far more poignant than words can express."

"Eigh, Pons?"

It was a bitterly cold January day — still, with a touch of ice in the air. I had finished my rounds early, it was just dusk and I was reading the newspaper in front of a glowing fire in our quarters at 7B Praed Street awaiting tea, while my friend Solar Pons busied himself with a gazetteer at a small table near the window. He turned his lean, feral face toward me and smiled faintly.

"I see from the headlines there that you have been reading of the Bulgur atrocities. From the expression on your face I surmise that the massacres in that quarter have moved you deeply."

"Indeed, Pons," I rejoined. "It recalled to my mind my own experiences in the field."

Solar Pons nodded and pushed back his chair from the table. He held out his thin hands to the fire and rubbed them briskly together.

"It is a sad commentary on mankind's foibles, Parker, that different countries cannot learn to live together. There is crime enough, poverty enough and disease enough without nations massacring one another over the finer points of doctrinaire religion or the pink and black shadings on a map."

I put down the paper and looked at Pons approvingly. "At least you do a good deal to help the world, Pons, by bringing criminal miscreants to justice."

Solar Pons' eyes twinkled as he crossed over to take his favorite armchair at the other side of the fireplace.

"I do my humble best, Parker. But it is good of you to say so, all the same."

He broke off as a measured tread sounded on the stairs.

"Here is the excellent Mrs. Johnson. By the sound of it she is heavily laden. As you are the nearest to the door, be so good as to open it for her."

I hastened to do as he requested, admitting the smiling figure of our motherly landlady. As she bustled about setting the table, I resumed my seat, appreciative of the appetizing odor rising from the covered dishes.

"As you have a client coming at eight o'clock, Mr. Pons, I took the liberty of preparing high tea. I hope you have no objection, Dr. Parker?"

I glanced at Pons.

"Certainly not, Mrs. Johnson. If you wish, Pons, I can vacate the sitting room if you have private business.…"

Solar Pons smiled, his eyes on Mrs. Johnson.

"I wouldn't dream of it, my dear fellow. I think it is a matter which might interest you. It promises some interesting features."

He tented his fingers before him.

"Perhaps you would be good enough to show my visitor up immediately on arrival, Mrs. Johnson. From the tone of the letter I have received, he — or she — is of a retiring nature and wishes the visit to be as discreet as possible."

"Very good, Mr. Pons."

Mrs. Johnson finished laying the table and stood regarding us with a concerned expression.

"I hope you will begin at once, gentlemen, or the food will be spoiled."

Solar Pons chuckled, rising from his chair.

"Have no fear, Mrs. Johnson. We shall certainly do justice to it."

The meal, as Mrs. Johnson had indicated, was appetizing indeed and my companion and I had soon disposed of the Welsh rarebit with which the repast began and rapidly made inroads into the grilled kidneys and bacon with which it continued. I put down my knife and fork with satisfaction and poured myself a second cup of tea. I stared across at Pons.

"You have received a letter about this matter, then, Pons?"

Solar Pons nodded. He raised his head from the gazetteer he had been studying at the side of his plate.

"From Grimstone Manor in Kent, Parker. It does not seem to be marked on the map or indicated in this volume. It is my guess that it will turn out to be a remote area of the county on the marshes near Gravesend. Or failing that, somewhere in the Romney Marsh district."

"You expect to go there, Pons?"

"It is highly likely," replied Solar Pons casually. "From the tone of my client's letter it sounds a bizarre affair indeed."

He reached out for the pile of bread and butter Mrs. Johnson had left on the platter and liberally spread a slice with strawberry jam from the stoneware pot.

"It is as well to know something of the ground and the salient features of interest before one takes to the field. Though it seems as though I shall gain precious little out of it financially."

I stared at Pons interrogatively, aware of an ironic twinkle in his eye.

"I had never noticed that money was a decisive factor in your cases, Pons."

My companion chuckled.

"And neither is it, Parker. Except that my prospective client is either Silas Grimstone, the notorious miser and recluse… "

He drew a soiled and discolored envelope from his pocket with an expression of disgust and pulled from it an even more disreputable-looking enclosure. He frowned at the signature.

"… Or Miss Sylvia Grimstone, his equally miserly niece. From what I hear the couple live together with her acting as housekeeper. They are as rich as almost anyone you care to name, yet each outdoes the other in scrimping and saving. It is something of a contest between them."

He smiled again as he passed the crumpled letter to me.

"Which is the reason for my remarks. The letter, so far as I can make out, is merely signed S. Grimstone. But whichever of the unlovely pair wish to engage me as client you may bet your boots that my fee will be minimal."

I withdrew my eyes from the cramped writing to regard Pons.

"Why are you taking the case, then?"

Solar Pons shook his head, resting his hands on the table before him.

"I have already indicated, Parker, that the matter seems to present outstanding points of interest. I would not miss it if I decided to remit my fee altogether."

He shifted at the table and reached out for the bread and butter again.

"Pray read the letter aloud to me if you would be so good."

I started as best I could, stumbling and halting over the abominably written and much-blotted text. The missive was headed Grimstone Manor, Grimstone Marsh, Kent and bore the date of the previous day.

I glanced at the envelope and realized the reason for Pons' sardonic attitude. He smiled thinly.

"Exactly, Parker. Mr. Grimstone or his niece affixed a used postage stamp to the envelope, presumably after steaming it off something else."

"Good heavens, Pons," I exclaimed. "It is disgraceful!"

"Is it not, Parker," he said with a light laugh. "The post office thought so too, because they levied a surcharge of three pence on the envelope and I have had to reimburse Mrs. Johnson."

"Your recompense is likely to be small indeed, Pons," I said, turning back to the letter.

"As usual, you have got to the heart of the matter, Parker," said Solar Pons drily.

He poured a final cup of tea and sat back at the table with a satisfied expression.

"But you have not yet read the letter."

"It presents some difficulties, Pons."

I smoothed out the crumpled paper and after some hesitant starts and re-readings finally deciphered the extraordinary message.

I looked across at Pons.

"Extraordinary."

"Is it not, Parker. What do you make of the crawling horror?"

I shook my head.

"You are sure the Grimstones are not eccentric. Perhaps even a little mentally deranged?"

Solar Pons smiled grimly.

"Not from what I have heard of his activities in the city.

But you are the medical man. I will leave you to judge of their sanity."

I picked up the paper again, conscious of the rough edges. "Hullo, Pons, something has been torn off here. Another small mystery, perhaps?"

Solar Pons shook his head, little glinting lights of humor in his eyes.

"Ordinarily, I would agree with you, my dear fellow. In this instance the answer is elementary."

I stared at him, my puzzlement self-evident.

"The Grimstones' habitual meanness, Parker. They have merely torn their disgraceful old sheet of notepaper in half, in order that they may use the remainder for something else."

I was so taken aback that I almost dropped the letter.

"Good heavens, Pons," I mumbled. "Apart from the mystery your clients promise a study in comparative psychology in themselves."

"Do they not, Parker."

Solar Pons rose from the table and crossed over to his favorite chair by the fire. He glanced at the clock in the corner and I saw that it was almost a quarter to seven. He tamped tobacco in his pipe and waited politely until I had finished. The measured tread of Mrs. Johnson was soon heard on the stairs and in a few minutes our estimable landlady had expertly cleared the table and had spread a clean cloth upon it.

"I hope that was satisfactory, gentlemen."

"You have excelled yourself, Mrs. Johnson," said Solar Pons gravely.

Our landlady's face assumed a faint pink texture.

"If there is anything further, Mr. Pons?"

"Nothing, thank you, Mrs. Johnson. On second thought, if you would just leave the front door on the latch my client will let himself up."

"Very good, Mr. Pons."

She closed the door softly behind her and presently her footsteps died away down the stairs.

"An excellent soul, Parker," Solar Pons observed.

"Indeed, Pons," I replied. "I don't know what we should do without her."

My companion nodded. He leaned over for a splinter and lit it from a glowing coal on the hearth. He sat back in the chair, contentedly ejecting a stream of aromatic blue smoke from the bowl, dreamily watching the lazy spirals ascend to the ceiling. It was one of the most pleasant periods of the day and I did not break the reverie into which we had fallen but quietly resumed my own fireside chair and my interrupted reading of The Times.

2

It was a quarter to eight when we were interrupted by the distant slamming of the front door and an agitated tattoo of feet on the doormat of the staircase.

The man who first timidly knocked at our door and then entered the sitting-room was a most astonishing sight. Pons had risen from his chair and even his iron reserve was visibly breached as I saw the slight trembling of the stem of the pipe in his mouth.

The old gentleman who stood blinking and peering about him, first at Pons and then at me, was dressed in a long overcoat of some bottle-green material and of an ancient cut. When he had been in the room some minutes I realized that the coat was old indeed, for the green was not the color but mildew, and a miasma, heavy and polluting, hung about him, bringing the atmosphere of an old-clothes shop into our cozy chambers at 7B.

"Mr. Pons? Mr. Solar Pons?" he said in a high, piping falsetto, his trembling right hand extended to my companion.

"The same, Mr. Grimstone," said my companion, gingerly taking his shriveled claw.

"Will you be seated, sir."

"Thank you, thank you."

The old man looked at me with fierce suspicion, until Pons made the introduction.

"My valued friend and colleague, Dr. Lyndon Parker." "Proud to make your acquaintance, sir."

Our visitor bowed frostily and I half-rose from my chair but was glad that he did not offer to shake hands with me. Even from where I was sitting I could smell the dank, malodorous stench which emanated from his clothing. At first I suspected that Grimstone suffered from paralysis agitans but after a short interval I concluded that nothing but common fright was responsible for the twitching eyes, nervous tics and sudden starts he exhibited in our company. He shied away and made as though to quit the room at any sudden and unexpected noise and once when a motor vehicle backfired in the street below our windows, I thought that he would have fled to the door. I had never seen a man with such a look of fear on him.

For the rest he wore a mildewed hat that must once have answered to the name of homburg and when he removed it in our presence, his long white flowing locks hung about his brows like hoary weeds overflowing from some untended garden. His black and white striped shirt, greasy and dirty, was held in place with two rusty safety pins and he was devoid of either collar or tie. He opened his overcoat with the heat of the fire and I could see a musty suit of the same shade as his outer garment beneath.

His shoes were worn out at the heels and I was astonished, even given our visitor's general appearance, to see that instead of laces his shoes were held to his feet by lengths of knotted string. Grimstone was probably nearer seventy than sixty and his face was lined, with deep furrows running from the corners of his eyes to his nostrils. His eyes were a pale green and the most cunning I had ever seen in my varied experience as a medical practitioner.

His nose was thin and raw red which I put down to the wind and the current cold weather, and his mouth had a cadaverous and lop-sided look. I found out later that this resulted from his wearing a set of second-hand dentures which did not fit him properly. As Pons had so properly observed, few men had ever existed with such miserly habits. His rimless pince-nez had evidently been garnered from the same source as the dentures; some dingy second-hand shop, for I was certain that they did not suit his eyesight, for he squinted ferociously over the top of them from time to time.

Altogether, he was one of the most remarkable specimens I ever beheld and the more I saw of him the more my initial impression of unpleasantness and shiftiness was reinforced. But Solar Pons seemed oblivious of all this and smiled at him pleasantly enough through his pipe smoke, as he sat back in his easy-chair and favored me with a subtle droop of his right eyelid.

"Well, Mr. Grimstone," he said at length. "Just how can I serve you?"

The old man looked at him suspiciously.

"You got my letter, Mr. Pons?"

"Indeed," said my companion. "In fact there was some difficulty in the matter. Some trifling oversight in the matter of the stamp. There was a surcharge of three pence that my landlady had to pay."

I was astonished at Pons' words but even more so at our client's response. Far from being offended he drew himself up frostily and his eyes positively twinkled as he looked at Pons with something like admiration.

"A minor matter, my dear sir," he snapped. "No doubt covered by the overcharges on my bill."

He wagged his grubby forefinger at Pons.

"I have never yet met anyone who failed to overcharge Solar Pons looked at him imperturbably, his penetrating yes shot with humor through the pipe smoke.

"In that case had you better not consult someone else in our problem?" he said mildly.

Grimstone jerked in his chair as though stung by some venomous insect. His voice rose to a high, strangled squawk. "After having come all this way up from Kent, Mr. Pons? With the scandalously expensive fares imposed by the railways…?"

There was dismay as well as anger in the tones and Solar 'Pons glanced at me with an open smile.

"I have touched upon your Achilles heel, it would appear, Ir. Grimstone. Pray lay your problem before me without further ado."

Grimstone fixed Pons with glittering eyes.

"Ah, then you have decided to take the case, Mr. Pons?"

My companion shook his head slowly.

"I have not said so. If it presents points of interest I may agree to do so."

Our visitor actually rocked to and fro in his chair as though with anguish.

"And if you do not?" he snapped. "The railway fare, Mr. Pons! The fare! I shall write to my Member of Parliament." Solar Pons chuckled easily, sending a lazy plume of smoke p toward the ceiling.

"I am not quite sure whether you are referring to the iniquitously high cost of railway travel, Mr. Grimstone, or to my conduct. But in either event your M.P. will be no more pleased to having to pay a surcharge on his letter than I was."

Grimstone was off on another tack. He crossed his bony hands and smirked.

"Ah, then we are at one, Mr. Pons," he mumbled, as though my companion had agreed with him. "I must have your help in this monstrous persecution to which I am being subjected. 'When could you come down? We do not exactly keep open house but we could accommodate you in some corner of the manor."

"I should first prefer to hear something of the business which brings you here, Mr. Grimstone. Your letter was nothing if not sensational in its implications."

Grimstone drew down the corner of his mouth as though Pons had said something distasteful and momentarily lapsed into silence. For a second or two I glimpsed such fear on his face as I have seldom seen on a human being. It was obvious to me that Pons had also seen it and that Grimstone's newly assumed business-like manner was a mere façade, which might crack at any moment.

Solar Pons paused a little to allow our visitor to recover himself, looking not unsympathetically at our strange caller through the aromatic clouds of tobacco smoke.

"You spoke of a crawling horror, Mr. Grimstone?" he said at length. "Can you amplify that somewhat enigmatic statement?"

Grimstone shook his head, waving it from side to side so agitatedly that it looked as though he had palsy.

"I can, Mr. Pons," he said in a dead voice. "It is something that haunts me; something that I can never forget."

"You had better start at the beginning, my dear sir," said Solar Pons softly. "Take your time and tell the story in your own words."

Our client sat puffing his cheeks in and out for a few moments, looking with cunning eyes first at me and then at my companion. I must say that my distaste for him and his malodorous clothing was growing by the minute but Solar Pons stared imperturbably in front of him and continued ejecting sweet-scented smoke from his pipe until our bizarre visitor should be ready to continue.

He began abruptly, without preamble, with the look upon him of a man who has suddenly made up his mind to take the plunge only because of dire necessity at his elbow.

"You probably know about me, Mr. Pons. My activities have not passed unnoticed in the city. I have amassed a certain amount of money, it is true, but I am a poor man in comparison with many I could name; and my expenses have been heavy — extremely heavy."

He paused as though expecting Pons to agree with him and receiving no reaction continued in a disappointed tone.

"I live quite frugally as befits my station, Mr. Pons, in an old manor house on the marshes near Gravesend. My niece, Miss Sylvia Grimstone, lives with me and keeps house and we do tolerably well. I am not much in the city these days and keep in touch by telephone. My health has not been too good these last few years and I have had to ease up a little."

Solar Pons ejected a cloud of blue smoke into the air of our sitting room.

"What staff have you at the manor, Mr. Grimstone?"

Our visitor looked startled.

"Staff, Mr. Pons?"

He smirked.

"Good gracious me, I cannot run to that. My niece sees to all our wants. In return she receives bed and board and a yearly stipend."

His voice dropped on the last words as though the stipend were a matter of great regret to him. Pons could not forbear in amused glance across at me.

"We lived an uneventful life until a few months ago, Mr. Pons, when these terrible things happened."

"What terrible things, Mr. Grimstone? You have told me little as yet. Pray be most precise as to circumstance and details.."

Solar Pons tented his thin fingers before him and fixed our visitors with a steady glance.

"As I have indicated, Mr. Pons, we live an isolated and sheltered life there on the marsh. The manor has been in our family for centuries and descended to me from my brother. Its solution suited me and the property, which is a curious one, is actually on an island in the marsh and approached by a causeway."

Solar Pons glanced at Grimstone, his eyes penetrating beneath his half-lowered lids.

"The marsh is dangerous?"

"Oh, yes indeed, Mr. Pons. In some places it is actual swamp, though sheep and cattle graze on it here and there. sometimes it claims an unwary beast and some areas are reputed to be literally bottomless."

"I see. But you know it well?"

"Certainly, Mr. Pons. I spent some time there with relatives when a child. But the manor itself and the area immediately surrounding it is safe enough, and the causeway which links it with the firmer ground runs direct to a good secondary road."

Solar Pons nodded.

"It is as well to get the background details firmly in one's mind, Mr. Grimstone. I find it a great aid to the ratiocinative processes. Eh, Parker?"

"Certainly, Pons."

Our client nodded, his mean little eyes gleaming.

"Well, Mr. Pons, Grimstone Manor may seem a somewhat strange and out of the way place to a stranger, but it suits me and my niece."

He shifted in his chair and once again I caught the unpleasant smell of mold and old clothing.

"It was October, Mr. Pons. A cold, windy day, but toward sunset the wind dropped and a thin mist began to rise. I had been in to our local village of Stavely, some miles from Allhallows, and was walking back along the marsh road, which is, as you may imagine, elevated some way about its surroundings. It is a wild, bleak, lonely place even in summer and you can imagine what it must be like at dusk on a bitter autumn day."

Our client cleared his throat with a harsh rasping sound before going on with his narrative.

"I had got quite close to my own dwelling, thank God, when my attention was arrested by a singular noise. It was a low, unpleasant sound, like somebody clearing his throat. A pony and carriage had passed me some minutes before, going toward Stavely, but I was completely alone in that bare landscape, Mr. Pons, and I can tell you that I was considerably startled. But I moved on, as I was only a few hundred yards from the entrance to Grimstone Manor road. Fortunate that I did so."

Pons' eyes were shining.

"Why so, Mr. Grimstone?"

"Because otherwise I would not be here talking to you now, Mr. Pons," the old man replied.

"I heard the strange noise again a few moments later, and turned just short of the road. Mr. Pons, I had never seen anything like it. There was only the afterglow lingering in the sky and the harsh cry of some bird. I might have been upon the moon for all the human help at hand."

Our client swallowed heavily and his eyes were dark with fear.

"Mr. Pons, as true as I sit here, a corpse figure was dragging itself from the edge of the marsh, all burning and writhing with bluish fire!"

3

The silence which followed was broken by a sound like a pistol shot. It was made by Solar Pons slapping his right thigh with the flat of his hand.

"Capital, Mr. Grimstone! What then?"

"Why, Mr. Pons, I took to my heels, of course," said Silas Grimstone with commendable frankness, casting a resentful look at Pons.

"But the thing which pursued me had devilish cunning. It seemed to make its way across the marsh in a series of hops, as though to cut me off."

"It did not follow on the road, then?"

Solar Pons sat with his pipe wreathing smoke in his hand, completely absorbed in our visitor's narrative. Grimstone shook his head.

"It was trying to prevent me from getting to my house, Mr. Pons. I have never been so frightened in my life. At first it seemed to gain but when I looked back there was nothing but a bluish fire bobbing about some distance behind me. It was almost completely dark by this time and I had never been so glad to see the lights of the manor, I can tell you."

"I can well imagine," said Solar Pons drily. "This figure made no sound?"

"No, Mr. Pons. Not that I heard. When I gained the safety of the court yard in front of the house, I looked briefly back and saw a faint blue glow disappearing in the haze of the marsh."

"A terrifying experience, Mr. Grimstone," I put in.

"There is more to follow?" Solar Pons added crisply.

The old man nodded somberly.

"Unfortunately, Mr. Pons. I did not tell my niece of the affair at first, as I did not wish to unduly alarm her. She is highly strung and it would be difficult to get someone to attend to my wants if she decided to leave."

"Indeed," said Solar Pons gravely.

"I thought at first, Mr. Pons, that I had been the victim of some sort of hallucination. The next time I went into Stavely, which was not until a fortnight later, I took the pony and buggy and made sure I returned in day light. I dismounted when I came to the spot near the causeway where I had seen the figure, but, of course, there was nothing to be seen."

Solar Pons replaced the pipe in his mouth and puffed thoughtfully.

"Why do you say 'of course,' Mr. Grimstone?"

"Well, I had hoped that there would be some quite ordinary explanation such as marsh lights, or some strange but natural phenomenon to account for the apparition. But there was nothing to support such a theory."

"So you believe it to be a ghost?"

"I do not know what to believe, Mr. Pons."

"It was a human figure, though?"

"Undoubtedly, though I could see no detail, just the blue phosphorescent fire."

"Pray continue."

"Well, nothing further happened for some weeks and I had hoped that was the end of the matter. I had been out in the opposite direction, to look at a property in which I had some interest, and was unmindful of the time. I was coming in the buggy along the same road but from the southerly direction. It was again almost dusk when for the second time I had the same terrifying experience. Once more this ghastly figure rose from the edge of the marsh. The pony took fright and I had so much to do to control him and what with my work at the reins I quite forgot my terror and when we at last rattled across the causeway and I had a moment to take stock there was no sign of the figure."

"You still told your niece nothing?"

Grimstone shook his head.

"There seemed no point, Mr. Pons. That was November. The next thing that happened was quite near Christmas. It was coming closer to the house all the time, Mr. Pons."

"Pray be more explicit, Mr. Grimstone."

"Well, I had been ill with a cold, and had to curtail my business activities. I had not been to London for over a month and it was but ten days to Christmas. Again, it was dusk and I was sitting in a ground floor room near the window, well wrapped up, my feet toward the fire. The sunset was dying out across the marsh. My niece was preparing tea in the kitchen and I was musing ruminatively as one does at such times. Imagine my horror, Mr. Pons, when I suddenly saw this bluish light hopping across the yard outside the house. It came on with 'quick strides and as I sat half paralyzed this hideous face made of bluish fire was thrust against the window."

Our client licked his lips, he was so visibly moved by the recollection, and I felt a momentary flash of pity for him.

"Hmm. A nasty experience, Mr. Grimstone."

Solar Pons pulled reflectively at the lobe of his right ear. "What did you do?"

"I gave a great cry, Mr. Pons. I jumped up at once but the thing bad made off. It went in a strange, zigzagging motion and the last I saw it was disappearing in the sunset haze toward the marsh. A coal had fallen from the fire about then and was threatening to burn the carpet. My niece came rushing in at my outburst but I gave the fallen coal as my excuse and the matter passed over. She made much of my paleness and agitation but I told her I felt ill again and went back to bed after tea. That was the third appearance of the apparition, Mr. Pons."

"There has been a fourth, then?"

Silas Grimstone nodded, his lined face lightened but not softened by the flickering firelight of our sitting room.

"Before you come to that, Mr. Grimstone, I have one or two further questions. What do you think this thing is?" The old man stubbornly shook his head.

"That is for you to tell me, Mr. Pons," he snapped, with a return to his old manner. "It would appear to be supernatural in origin but why it should choose to haunt me, I have no idea."

"I see."

Solar Pons was silent for a moment, his brooding eyes gazing into the heart of the fire.

"Tell me, Mr. Grimstone, are there any dwellings on the marsh itself from which this creature could have come?"

"You mean a domestic animal, Mr. Pons? That is hardly possible."

"I did not ask that, Mr. Grimstone."

The old man winced at the asperity in my companion's voice.

"The marshes are a strange place, Mr. Pons. They extend for miles over that part of England. Between, there are agricultural areas, firm ground and rich fields. Then you will find a wild expanse of marsh, with here and there islands of solid farmland, which may be reached on foot by the bold. I understand there are some smallholdings on such pockets."

"I see. Tell me, Mr. Grimstone, have any persons been lost in the marsh. Sucked under or drowned, I mean?"

Silas Grimstone stared at Solar Pons with shadowed eyes.

"Many such, Mr. Pons, from time immemorial. In more recent times, the occasional sheep or cattle. I do not know of any other fatality, offhand."

"Why did you not inform the police of this figure which had chased you?”

"Police!"

There was a wealth of disgust in our client's voice. "That would be worse than useless, Mr. Pons. I did not want them tramping about my property. And what could I tell them? That I had seen a ghost? They would have merely laughed. They do not deal in ghosts."

"Neither do I," said Pons.

"Mr. Grimstone has a point, Pons," I interjected.

My companion looked at me thoughtfully.

"Perhaps, Parker, perhaps," he said absently.

He turned back to Grimstone.

"What was this latest incident?"

"Only two nights ago, Mr. Pons. That was what prompted me to come to you. It has become unbearable."

"This apparition appears only at dusk, Mr. Grimstone?" "Why, yes, Mr. Pons. I have called it a crawling horror and I speak truly."

"That is important, Parker. Pray continue."

"Weil, Mr. Pons, my niece was present on this occasion, thank God."

Solar Pons' lean face was alive with interest.

"Excellent, Mr. Grimstone. That is of the utmost importance also."

Our client shot Solar Pons another resentful glance.

"No, Mr. Pons, I am not mad as you might have suspected. This apparition is visible to others than myself."

Solar Pons nodded.

"I am glad to hear it, Mr. Grimstone. But you may disabuse yourself of the supposition you have formed. It was never in my mind for one moment that your sanity was in question. Your financial reputation alone would have ruled that out."

The old man smiled grimly.

"You have only to see this thing to realize that something dreadful is at the back of it. To resume. Two evenings ago my niece complained of feeling cooped up in the house. She suggested a walk before dark. I was a little startled at the request but acquiesced, as she certainly does not get much change of air or exercise, other than her household duties. So we struck out along the main road and then took a well marked path that loops across the marsh."

The old man paused and looked at my companion sharply, as though to assure himself that he was still listening.

"Sylvia is interested in wild flowers, nature and nonsense of that sort and I usually indulge her in such fancies though such things interest me not at all. We had gone about half a mile across the marsh, Mr. Pons, to a very lonely spot indeed and I was thinking of suggesting that we go back. The light was beginning to fade from the sky and though my niece's presence reassured me, I still had the incidents at dusk at the back of my mind.

"She had gone on ahead a little way to look at something and I was temporarily alone. Suddenly, I became aware of a faint noise. I turned quickly and judge of my horror, Mr. Pons, when I saw this same ghastly blue phosphorescent figure rising from the haze at the edge of the marsh. I stood rooted to the spot at the sight and then my sudden cry brought my niece running to my side."

"Just a moment, Mr. Grimstone. Where was your niece exactly when this happened?"

"As I have said, Mr. Pons, some distance away."

"Was she visible to you or not?"

Old Grimstone was evidently puzzled.

"As a matter of fact, she was hidden by a fringe of bushes, Mr. Pons. Does it matter?"

"It might be of the greatest significance, Mr. Grimstone. Please go on."

"Well, Mr. Pons, my niece shrieked with fright on beholding this thing, as you might imagine. It made a sort of writhing motion and then disappeared into the marsh with incredible rapidity. We lost no time in regaining the high road and got back to the manor without seeing it again, thank God."

"You made no attempt to follow?"

Grimstone looked at Pons as though he was out of his mind. He shuddered.

"Not I, Mr. Pons."

"And once again, this phantom left no trace?"

Our visitor shook his head.

"We did not stop to look, Mr. Pons."

Solar Pons stroked his chin with thin fingers.

"A pity."

Grimstone cleared his throat with a harsh rasping noise.

"My niece and I sat up late that night discussing the matter. She suggested calling the police but for the reasons I have already enumerated I decided against. So I wrote to you yesterday and here I am entreating you to come down to Kent as soon as you can, Mr. Pons. I am not a rich man, but—"

"Tut," interrupted Solar Pons. "The fee is never the decisive factor in my cases. I had decided long ago that the matter displayed features of great interest. I will come down tomorrow if that will be convenient. Can you get away, Parker?"

I glanced at Pons with enthusiasm.

"It will not be difficult, Pons. I have only to telephone my locum."

"I hope I shall not have to pay for Dr. Parker's presence," said old Grimstone in alarm.

Pons' features expressed wry amusement as I turned an astonished face toward our miserly client.

"Do not worry, Mr. Grimstone, I shall come at my own expense."

Grimstone gave a sigh of relief.

"The accommodation at the manor is none of the best," he whined.

"We shall not strain your limited resources, Mr. Grim-stone," said Pons blandly. "You have an inn in the village, no doubt? It should not be difficult to get bed and board in such a place at this time of the year."

"Dear me, no," said our client, considerably mollified. "Then, if you would be good enough to reserve us two rooms we will be down tomorrow afternoon."

"Excellent, Mr. Pons. I will let them know at The Harrow." Grimstone rose, wafting toward me once again the odor of stale, mildewed clothing. He glanced at the clock.

"Good heavens, is that the time? I am usually abed long before this. I have to rise early in the morning, and meet our local mail carrier in front of Charing Cross. He had to come to London today so I have traveled with him to save expense."

I thought you said you came by train," observed Solar Pons with a wry smile. "You were complaining at the cost of rail fares, if I remember."

Grimstone turned toward the door in some confusion.

"You must have been mistaken, Mr. Pons," he murmured.

"No doubt," said Pons dryly. "Until tomorrow, then."

"Until tomorrow. You can get a fast train, I believe."

"You may expect us at about four, Mr. Grimstone. Good evening."

4

Solar Pons chuckled intermittently for several minutes after our visitor had left.

"Well, what do you make of him, Parker?"

"Of him or the case, Pons?"

"Both. He has not told me the half of it, I'll be bound."

I looked at my companion, startled.

"What on earth do you mean, Pons? You think this figure is a figment of his imagination?"

Solar Pons made an impatient clicking noise deep in his throat.

"Of course not, Parker. His niece saw the apparition in the marsh. No, this is a deep business. But I would like to have your views nevertheless."

"Your flatter me, Pons."

"Do not underestimate yourself, Parker. Your observations, while not always right, do much to guide me in the right direction."

"I am glad to hear it," I said. "The man is a miserly curmudgeon, as you so rightly surmised. But as to this bizarre and sinister apparition, it is beyond me."

"Yet I am convinced that there is a purpose behind it, Parker, if we pursue it to its logical conclusion. That it is supernatural is as ridiculous as to suppose that Grimstone imagined it."

"Well, you are certainly right, Pons, as Miss Grimstone saw it too. But how do you explain the fact that the figure left no footprints?"

"Elementary, my dear Parker. Grimstone is not a trained observer, and the marshy ground would tend to eliminate tracks. The case presents a number of intriguing possibilities. Not least being the fact that Miss Grimstone was not in sight the last time this thing made its appearance. I commend that fact to you, my dear fellow."

And he said not a word further on the subject until we were en route the following morning. It was a bitterly cold day; colder if anything than the previous and both Pons and I were heavily muffled against the biting air. We left the train in bleak conditions at Gravesend, where we changed to a small branch line.

There was a chill wind blowing from off the Thames Estuary and as I glanced out of the carriage window at the cheerless acres of mud in which here and there sea-birds blew like spray as they flocked round the hulk of some wrecked barge stranded in the ooze, I felt I had seldom seen a more depressing landscape.

But Solar Pons merely chuckled as he settled deeper into his raglan overcoat, rubbing his lean fingers briskly together as he shoveled aromatic blue smoke from his pipe.

"Capital, Parker," he remarked. "This is an admirable atmosphere in which Grimstone's crawling horror operates." I glanced at him in some surprise.

"You astonish me, Pons. I thought you were not interested in nature as such."

"Atmosphere, Parker. I was talking of atmosphere," Pons reproved me. "There is a world of difference."

We had stopped momentarily at some wayside halt and now the door of the carriage was opened, bringing with it gusts of freezing air. A robust, bearded figure entered the carriage, apologizing for the intrusion and we made way for him on the seats, removing our luggage to one side.

"Thank you, gentlemen," said the intruder in a strong, rough but not uncultured voice.

He was dressed in tweeds, with a thick check cap with earflaps and his heavy thigh-boots were liberally splashed with mud. He carried a pair of binoculars in a leather case slung by a strap around his neck and a stout canvas bag at his side had the flap partly open, disclosing plant specimens with ice still clinging to their roots.

His broad, strong face was red and burned with wind about the cheek bones and his deep-set gray eyes looked at us both with interest.

"Inclement weather," I ventured.

He gave a hearty laugh.

"Oh, I think nothing of that, gentlemen. I am something of a naturalist and am used to collecting specimens and bird watching about the marshes in all weathers. A country G.P. in places like this has few other diversions."

I looked at him with interest.

"So I should imagine. I am myself a doctor."

"Indeed?"

Our companion raised his eyebrows.

"Parker is the name," I went on. "This is my friend, Mr. Pons."

"Delighted to meet you both. Dr. Strangeways, formerly of Leeds."

The big man half-rose from his seat and shook hands with us both.

"You must be very familiar with the marshes then, doctor," said Solar Pons. "Perhaps you could tell us something about Grimstone. We are bound there."

The doctor smiled thinly.

"We shall see something of each other, then. My practice ranges wide but I live at Stavely nearby."

I nodded.

"We are staying at The Harrow there for a few days."

Dr. Strangeways looked at me with narrowed eyes.

"We are poorly served for inns hereabouts but it is the best in these parts."

He hesitated, looking from me to Pons and then back again.

"You will forgive me, doctor, but strangers are few and far between down here and Grimstone Marsh seems a strange destination for two gentlemen like yourselves."

I looked at Pons.

"We have some business with Mr. Silas Grimstone," he said shortly.

The doctor smiled sardonically.

"Well, then I wish you luck, Mr. Pons. He is one of my patients. My medical bill has not been paid this eighteen months, though he is as rich as Croesus."

"I am sorry to hear that," I said politely looking from the bearded man opposite to the bleak prospect of marshland held in icy bondage by the weather, which was slowly passing the window.

"I have heard he is tight-fisted," said Pons. "And I regret to learn he is so tardy with payment. I know you cannot violate medical confidence, but I should be glad to know if you have attended him in recent months."

Dr. Strangeways looked at my companion sharply. He shook his head.

"I have no objection to answering your question, Mr. Pons. Ethics do not come into it — rather business morality. I have not attended him for some eight months now. I was blunt and said I would not call again until my account was settled."

"A perfectly proper attitude, Dr. Strangeways," said Pons approvingly.

He blew a stream of fragrant blue smoke from his pipe toward the carriage ceiling. He abruptly changed the subject.

"You get about the marshes a good deal, doctor. You have no doubt seen some strange things in your time."

The doctor shrugged and settled himself back against the upholstery.

"It is a curious corner of the world down here, as you know," he admitted. "Which is probably one of the reasons why Dickens chose it for some of his most effective scenes in Great Expectations."

"Ah, yes," I put in. "When young Copperfield set out for his walk to Dover."

"You have got the wrong book," put in Pons reprovingly. "And he would have certainly gone a long way round."

Dr. Strangeways chuckled.

"Dr. Parker was no doubt having his little joke," he suggested.

"No doubt," said Pons disarmingly. "I have heard that the marshes harbor some strange creatures."

Dr. Strangeways fixed his gray eyes on the ceiling of the carriage, where swathes of gray-blue smoke clung, as though reluctant to leave the warmth of the compartment.

"Oh, there are plenty of old wives' tales," he said scoffingly. "There is supposed to be a phantom horseman. And every corner seems to have its complement of drowned smugglers from the eighteenth century."

"What about blue corpse lights?" asked Solar Pons innocently, his hooded eyes fixed on the smoke clouds.

The doctor stirred uncomfortably on his seat.

"You mean marsh lights, the so-called will-o'-the-wisps? One sometimes sees such natural phenomena from time to time. Certainly. The superstitious call them corpse lights."

"What do they look like?"

The doctor shrugged.

"Marsh gas sometimes gives off a bluish light. More often a greenish yellow."

"At dusk or daylight?"

Consternation spread over the doctor's bearded features.

"I have never heard of them in daylight," he said. "Naturally, they would be difficult to see. At dusk, of course. And at night. What is the purpose of these questions?"

"Idle curiosity," said Solar Pons, stretching himself in his corner by the window. "I have heard of someone who claimed to see a ghostly figure of bluish fire down on the marshes."

The doctor stared at Pons with incredulity. He cleared his throat.

"I have read such journalists' tales in the cheaper press," he admitted.

He laughed deep in his beard.

"I should be more inclined to put down such apparitions to d.t.'s. Such things are not unknown among my patients. I had a fellow in only last week who claimed to have seen some such thing. Old Tobias Jessel. He is far too frequently in the four ale bar of The Harrow and I told him so."

He looked out of the window.

"Ah, this is as far as we go. It has been an agreeable journey, gentlemen, thanks to you. I am going to Stavely now and as I have my motor vehicle at the station allow me to offer you a lift."

Pons and I accepted with thanks, and descending found ourselves on the bare, windswept platform of one of the most bleak country railway stations I had ever beheld. There was only one staff member visible, a porter-cum-stationmaster and we three seemed to be the only passengers surrendering our tickets.

We hurried gratefully across the station forecourt and into the doctor's covered Morris and were soon bowling swiftly along the marsh road, the doctor driving with skill and obvious enjoyment. As we sped along the narrow road through the flat, monotonous countryside the dusk was creeping on apace and I could imagine the effect on old Silas Grimstone of seeing the spectral blue figure which pursued him amid this forbidding landscape. Now and again the doctor pointed out the features of the countryside, such as they were. Indeed, I felt they were but poor things, being a ruined windmill, an old round tower and the crumbling remains of a wooden breakwater, to mention only the most notable.

Even Pons' normally sanguine nature seemed affected by the dreariness of this area of mud flats and marsh with its cloudy scatterings of seabirds and it was with something like relief that we saw the gleam of light ahead and shortly after drove down the main street of a small village.

"Here you are, Mr. Pons," said Dr. Strangeways, drawing up in front of a cheerful-looking inn of medium size. With its brick walls and gray slate roof it was of no great charm but situated as we were it seemed most welcome with the light shining from its windows and a mellow glow coming from the entrance porch.

We got down and Pons handed me my baggage while he sought his own. Strangeways jerked his thumb as he indicated a building almost opposite.

"There is my office, gentlemen. I am to be found there most evenings from six to eight if you need me. You must dine with me one night. My house is in a side street, not three hundred yards from where we are standing."

"That is most kind of you, doctor," I said, shaking hands. Strangeways smiled deep in his beard. He pointed to the village street, which wound away in front of us.

"Grimstone Manor is about a mile from here, south along the marsh road yonder. The road is straight all the way and you cannot miss the causeway. I would run you there myself but I have to prepare for surgery and visit patients beforehand."

"We are in your debt already," said Solar Pons. "The walk will do us good, eh, Parker. And if we step it out we should be at the manor before darkness falls. It is just a quarter past three."

We watched as the doctor drove off down the street with a salute on the horn. Then we turned into The Harrow. The landlord, a welcoming, jovial man of about forty, was expecting us and after we had registered, showed us to two plain but clean and comfortable rooms on the first floor.

"We serve dinner from eight o'clock onward, gentlemen. Breakfast is from seven A.M. until nine."

"That will do admirably," Pons told him. "We expect to be out and about the marsh a great deal."

The landlord, whose name was Plackett, nodded.

"It is a quiet time of the year, sir, but we will do our best to make you comfortable. There is good walking hereabouts, if you don't mind the wind off the sea."

I had just time to wash my hands, tidy myself and unpack my few necessaries, before Pons was knocking at my door and shortly afterward we were walking out of Stavely, the wind in our faces, bound for Grimstone Manor.

5

It was, as old Grimstone had indicated, a lonely road and with darkness falling apace, a somber one. Within a very few minutes the small hamlet of not more than five streets had dropped away and to all intents and appearances we were alone in the illimitable landscape. Pons strode along in silence, his heavy coat drawn snugly about him, his pipe shoveling streamers of blue smoke behind him.

The road ran straight as an arrow across the marsh, ice glinting like steel in the irrigation ditches at either side. The sky was dark and lowering, though a little light from the dying sun stained the distant bar of the sea and turned the wetlands into scattered pools of blood. My thoughts were as melancholy as the lonely cries of the sea-birds that fluttered dark-etched against the sunset and here and there the bones of some wrecked craft or a dark patch of mud stood out as a black silhouette.

The wind was gusting now and our footsteps echoed grittily behind us. There was not one human figure in all that space; not one vehicle in the long stretch of road that reached to the horizon in either direction. Pons abruptly broke the silence, stabbing with his pipe stem to emphasize his points.

"Ideal is it not, Parker?"

I was startled.

"I do not know what you mean, Pons."

"Why, for purposes of elimination, of course. The landscape limits the phantom's activities."

He chuckled wryly. For some reason his attitude irritated me. I threw up my hands to emphasize the bleakness of the marsh all around us.

"I see nothing humorous in all this, Pons."

"You are quite right, Parker. It is a deadly serious affair whose purpose as yet eludes me. Yet the landscape is a vital factor. If this burning specter which haunts old Silas Grimstone is a figure of flesh and blood, as I believe him to be, he is playing a deep and dangerous game. But the atmosphere, as I indicated on our journey down, plays a big part. While it may favor the menace which hangs over our client, it also acts in our favor."

I glanced sideways at the clear-minted, feral features of my companion.

"How do you mean, Pons?"

"The matter is self-evident, Parker. Let us take the points in this creature's credit account. The marsh is vast and impenetrable to the stranger. Ergo, he knows it well. He can appear and disappear without trace. He materialized only at dusk so far; darkness and fog are also helpful for his purposes."

"I follow you so far, Pons."

Solar Pons chuckled again.

"But the marsh can also act against him. True, it masks his appearance and his movements, for any traces of his passage would be eliminated by the ooze. But the bog is just as dangerous for him as for any other man. One false step and he is trapped as surely as any sheep or cow which wanders in. Mud may also leave traces of his passage. And his appearance is limited to the marsh. For if he ventures onto the high road or any other inhabited place, then we have him."

I looked at my companion in surprise.

"You almost sound as though you are pleased, Pons."

"Do I not, Parker?"

Solar Pons rubbed his thin hands together as though to restore the circulation and glanced about the dying landscape with keen eyes.

"So we are looking for someone who has an intimate knowledge of the marshes; is strong and active. There is also one other important corollary — a secure place to hide."

He broke off and sniffed. With his nostrils flaring and his deep-set eyes probing the dusk he looked like nothing so much as a purebred hound hot on the scent.

"Dr. Strangeways might well fit that bill, Pons. He seems to know the marsh intimately."

Solar Pons looked at me sardonically.

"You have a point there, Parker. I had not overlooked the possibility. He seemed almost too friendly on the train. Ah! Here we are at our destination, if I am not mistaken."

He pointed through the dusk to the left of the road, where stood the stout wooden fence and the causeway of which our client had spoken. A faint vapor was writhing from the ground and the solid earth dyke stretched away to a sort of island in the mist, at some considerable distance, where I could faintly discern the vague shadows of trees and the outline of buildings.

"I fancied I could smell the chimney smoke, Parker. But before we cross I will just have a look at the terrain here."

To my alarm Pons jumped agilely down the bank and was working up and down the margin of the reeds. He had his flashlight out and now and again stooped toward the ground, examining the grasses and the muddy pools minutely. I, stood on the road and kept my silence, knowing better than to interrupt him. He cast about him and broke off a heavy reed stem with a brittle snap.

He probed carefully at the surface of the marsh. Viscous mud parted, revealing the oily sheen of water in the last of the light. He cast the reed down and joined me on the bank. He pulled at the lobe of his left ear and looked thoughtfully across to where the final shafts of the dying day stained the depths of the marsh.

"A bad place, Parker," he said softly. "No wonder old Grimstone was frightened."_

"It is unpleasant indeed, Pons," I asserted. "Did you discover anything?"

"Nothing of any great significance. Though the terrain here has strengthened the tentative theories I have formed."

And he led the way across a heavy-timbered bridge that spanned a section of ice-bound water. Once on the dyke the dark seemed to encroach and the light was fast disappearing from the sky, the afterglow remaining. Even the birds were silent now and the only sounds were the faint trembling of the wind, our footsteps on the hard-packed mud of the causeway, and the pumping of my own heart.

We followed the heavy wooden handrail that bounded the causeway on either side, while now and again Pons flashed his torch to make sure of our bearings.

"What about this man Tobias Jessel, Pons?" I said as we neared the massive gates of Grimstone Manor. A thin curl of smoke rose from a single chimney in the multitude that jutted from the jumbled roofs of the ancient building.

"Ah, you have realized the significance of that factor, Parker?" said Pons with a thin smile. "I am glad to see that my training has not been wasted. Silence, if you please."

He switched off his torch and grasped me by the arm. We halted in the shadow of some bushes and a few moments later I caught what his keen ears had already picked out; the thin, furtive shuffle of some moving figure ahead.

Pons worked his way forward quietly and I followed, placing my feet with some difficulty as there was so much heavy shrubbery about the manor that it was almost — totally dark now. There was a muffled exclamation and Pons' light flashed on the terrified face of old Silas Grimstone. He wore a heavy padded dressing gown over his indoor clothes and a sort of velvet skullcap.

"Who's there?" he shouted in a quavering voice, screwing up his eyes against the light.

"Solar Pons and Dr. Parker," said my companion, stepping forward.

"Mr. Pons!" the old man stammered, relief in his voice. "I heard a noise and came to investigate."

"Very unwise, Mr. Grimstone," said Pons. "My advice is to stay indoors. If this apparition means you harm, you are playing into its hands by wandering around alone at night like this."

"You are right, Mr. Pons," said Grimstone, putting a shriveled claw on Solar Pons' arm and leading us forward through a large cobbled courtyard surrounded by substantial stone outbuildings. The manor itself looked to be of Tudor construction with plenty of exposed beams, but even in the dim light coming from the windows I could see that it was in deplorable condition.

There was a huge porch of oak beams, sagging and moss-hung, and our client led the way into the house without further ceremony. We found ourselves in a large, musty-smelling hall lit by only one oil lantern hanging from a beam. The floor was composed of rose-colored tiles. I had been prepared for a squalid and uncared-for interior but was surprised to see that things were fairly clean and tolerably tidy.

Silas Grimstone looked at me with a furtive smile, as though he read my thoughts.

"We keep most of the house locked up," he said, slamming the great door behind us and ramming home the bolt as if to emphasize his words. "My niece, whom you will meet in a moment, spends far too much time and money in maintaining the five rooms remaining open."

He turned his back and led the way forward into a large, paneled chamber. Pons smiled faintly at me as we followed.

The drawing room, or whatever Grimstone called it, had a great stone fireplace in which a tolerable fire burned. A few dim oils, portraits mostly, stared somberly at us from the wainscot and the heavy oak furniture made the apartment look more like the taproom of an inn.

Grimstone waved us into two uncomfortable wooden chairs by the fireside and went to sit in a padded armchair opposite.

"This is the room in which you had such an unpleasant experience, Mr. Grimstone?"

"Yes, Mr. Pons."

Pons went forward and drew aside the faded red curtains from the window at Grimstone's back. He looked out into the darkness, his eyes brooding as though he could see across the bleak miles of marsh to the heart of the secret it contained. He examined the window and its frame carefully and then closed the curtains once more.

As he turned away there came the sound of footsteps from the hall outside and Grimstone's niece, Miss Sylvia Grimstone, entered. She was a tall woman of about fifty years of age but, contrary to what I expected, not at all grim and forbidding. In fact she was quite smartly dressed and she bore a tray on which were silver tea-things and plates of buttered scones.

I managed to conceal my consternation when the old man remarked, "You'll take tea with us, of course, Mr. Pons. Allow me to present my niece. Mr. Solar Pons, Dr. Lyndon Parker."

"I am delighted to meet you, gentlemen."

Miss Sylvia Grimstone had a square, strong face and her features were quite pleasant when she smiled, which she did briefly at the introductions.

Silas Grimstone smirked maliciously as I watched the preparations

for tea and rubbed his blue-veined hands together.

"I do not stint myself in the matter of bodily comforts, doctor. That would be foolish at my age, living here on the marsh as we do."

"Very wise," observed Solar Pons, taking a steaming cup Miss Grimstone handed him. "And most welcome in this weather."

His piercing eyes fixed Miss Grimstone thoughtfully as she set down teacups and a plate of buttered scones before her uncle.

"Tell me, Miss Grimstone. What do you make of this apparition which so startled you and Mr. Grimstone here?"

The woman turned a worried face toward us and then she looked rather defiantly, it seemed to me, toward the old man.

"It was more than startling, Mr. Pons. It was terrifying. I have never been so frightened in my life."

"That is understandable," said Pons gently. "But I asked for your impressions."

There was a faint hesitation as the niece put down the silver teapot and seated herself in a carved wooden chair at the apex of a triangle formed by ourselves, Grimstone and herself.

"It was a human figure, in slightly old-fashioned clothing, Mr. Pons. It burned with a blue fire and appeared and disappeared with incredible rapidity."

"Was it a human figure or did it appear to you a supernatural phenomenon?"

Miss Grimstone shook her head.

"I do not know what to think."

"That is honest at any rate."

Pons turned back to Grimstone.

"I shall be in touch with you daily, Mr. Grimstone. In the meantime do not stir outside at night. Bolt and bar your doors. You may reach me at the inn by telephone if you wish to communicate with me urgently."

"Very well, Mr. Pons. What will you be doing?"

"I shall not be idle, Mr. Grimstone. I propose to take a walk round the marshes in the morning and may drop by here. Incidentally, I met your family physician, Dr. Strangeways earlier today. In fact he gave us a lift to Stavely."

Silas Grimstone smiled sourly.

"He is my physician no longer, Mr. Pons. I found his services far from satisfactory."

Once again a somewhat disapproving look passed from niece to uncle.

"Nevertheless, Mr. Grimstone, it seems likely that he will be an invaluable witness to what goes on in the marshes. He tells me for instance that one of his patients has seen this fiery figure of yours."

Our client's features drained to a haggard yellow and then to white.

"Ah, then it is true," he muttered to himself.

"Is what true?" asked Pons sharply.

"This crawling horror, Mr. Pons," the old man croaked. "Perhaps even your powers may prove unequal to it."

Solar Pons smiled grimly.

"I do not know about that, Mr. Grimstone. But in any event Dr. Parker's pistol and a cartridge or two will test the veracity of your theory. And now, if you will excuse us, we have much to do. Come, Parker."

And with thanks for our refreshment, we departed, leaving the odd couple gazing into the fire as if they both saw spectral images dancing in the smoldering embers.

6

It was a bitterly cold night and we were glad to regain The Harrow where cheerful fires blazed. Pons excused himself and I went to my room soon after, and I did not again see him until I descended to dinner at about 7:30 P.M. This was served in a comfortable dining room with oak paneling and brass chandeliers with imitation candles adapted for electric light.

Normally I do not like this sort of thing but the effect that night, with a cheerful fire blazing in the great stone fireplace, and the surprisingly excellent dinner of roast beef served, almost put our mission.on the marshes quite out of mind. Pons was at his best, drily analyzing the vagaries and physical aspects of the elderly waiters until I felt I could see their entire life histories conjured, as it were, from the air before us.

There were only a few people dining this evening and our waiter pointed out two fellow residents: an elderly gentleman in clerical garb dining alone in a comfortable nook near the fireplace and a fresh-faced, broad-shouldered young man sitting by himself two tables away. He caught our eye and nodded in a most friendly manner.

Our waiter, in response to a query from Pons observed, "That is Mr. Norman Knight. A colonial gentleman, I believe. He has been here some time and goes daily to business in Gravesend."

"Indeed," said Pons.

He looked with twinkling eyes after the old fellow, who was wheeling a dessert cart away down the room as though he would collapse and fall to the floor once its support were removed.

"Such old-fashioned employees are invaluable, Parker, for providing one with background information about people and places. Unfortunately they are a dying breed."

He looked round the dining room with sharp-eyed interest.

"I will wager that before the evening is over we will know a good deal more about Stavely and its surroundings than we did on arrival."

"No doubt, Pons," I remarked. "What are your plans?"

"The four-ale bar, Parker. A great leveling place where tongues loosened by wine — or in this instance beer — are inclined to wag a little too freely. Often great matters hinge on such small things. I remember that an indiscreet remark passed in the back parlor of a small public house near Tite Street enabled me to unravel the Great Cosmopolitan Scandal."

"I do not think I have heard of that case, Pons."

Solar Pons shook his head with a low laugh.

"There is no time this evening, Parker. It will have to await a slack period in my affairs before taking its place in your ubiquitous notebooks. Tonight we are on the track of the crawling horror of Grimstone Marsh."

Despite Pons' light tone and jesting face his last words sent a faint tingle of apprehension down my spine. I followed his glance over to that glassed-in partitions separating the bars from the dining room and saw that they appeared to be full.

"There seem to be a remarkable number of people, Pons."

"Does — there not, Parker. It is often so in remote places. Folk come from far and wide to congregate together in the dark months of winter. I fancy our man may be among them."

"You mean Tobias Jessel?"

Solar Pons looked at me with approving eyes.

"Admirable, Parker! You are improving considerably. Dr. Strangeways' patient is the only other person, apart from Grimstone and his niece, who has seen this apparition.

"It may be that he can throw fresh light, in a quite literal sense, on the matter."

Solar Pons scribbled his signature on the pad the old waiter held out for him and after I had left something on the table for this loyal servitor, Pons and I took our coffee and liqueurs in the adjoining smoking room which was adjacent to the bar and commanded a good view of the humanity milling about in the dense atmosphere within.

After a few minutes Pons excused himself and when I rejoined him a short while afterward, he was deep in conversation in the saloon bar with a bright-eyed old man whose red nose and broken-veined eyes bespoke long indulgence in liquor.

"Ah, there you are, Parker," said Solar Pons, turning as I came up through the bar, the confines of which were almost hidden through the haze of tobacco smoke.

"I have taken the liberty of ordering for you."

He pushed the schooner of sherry toward me and raised his own glass in salutation.

"This is Mr. Tobias Jessel, who has an interesting story to tell. Pray fill up your glass again, Jessel."

"Thank you, sir," said the old man eagerly.

He had a fringe of white beard and his peaked cap and thick blue clothing gave him the look of a seaman, though I understood from Pons that the man had never been farther than the marshes in his life. No doubt that was the impression he wished to give to visitors. When his drink had been brought in a pewter tankard bearing his own initials, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and smacked his lips appreciatively.

"Well, sir, people hereabouts are inclined to laugh at my stories, but they won't be inclined to do so much longer."

Solar Pons looked at him sharply.

"What makes you say that?"

The old man shook his head.

"There are strange things on the marshes, sir. Especially on these bleak winter nights. Spirits of those dead and gone." Solar Pons studied our informant silently for a moment over the rim of his glass. The noise in the bar was deafening — everyone appeared to be conversing at the top of their voices. It looked as though the whole population of the marshes had gathered here this evening.

"I am more interested in recent doings than in the ghosts of the past, Jessel. Unless they have a bearing on the present."

The old man rested his tankard on the polished mahogany top of the counter and looked reflectively at the harried barkeep. Jessel put a withered hand up to the side of his nose.

"Who's to tell, sir, whether the past does not have a bearing on the present? There are some — and they include me — who believe that they do; that our deeds on this earth, from cradle to grave, cast their shadow before."

Solar Pons' eyes twinkled and he cast a penetrating glance from Tobias Jessel to me.

"You are quite a philosopher, Jessel. Dr. Strangeways tells me you saw a weird apparition on the marsh recently."

"That I did, sir."

The old man lowered his voice to a hushed and confidential tone, though no one could have overheard us in our snug corner of the bar with all the hubbub going on.

"It was late at night. I had just left here and was walking

back along the marsh road. My cottage is about two miles distant. It was a fine, moon light night, but with a frost and a slight ground-mist coming up over the marshes. I had got almost opposite the causeway of Grimstone Manor when I heard a slight sound."

"What sort of sound?"

"Like a rustling in the reeds, sir."

"I see. Go on."

"Well, sir, I naturally turned. I'd had a bit to drink but I was soon sober, I can tell you. There was a ghastly blue figure, all wreathed in fire coming up at the edge of the marsh."

The old man's eyes were filled with fear and he again lowered his voice until I had difficulty hearing.

"Like one of those pictures of fiends burning in hell, it was."

"Extremely apt, Jesse," said Pons drily. "What was it doing?"

"It was my opinion it was making toward Grimstone Manor, sir. I naturally cried out, I was so startled with the sight. At almost the same moment the figure vanished."

"Vanished?"

"Vanished, sir. Just as though someone had pulled down a blind."

"Interesting, Parker."

"Indeed, Pons. An almost exactly parallel experience to that of Mr. Grimstone."

"I am glad you have seen the connection. Did you go toward the spot where you had seen the figure?"

A look of contempt passed across our informant's face.

"What do you take me for, sir? A fool?" he exclaimed indignantly. "I wouldn't have gone across that causeway for a thousand pounds, I can tell you. I took to my heels and didn't feel myself safe and secure until I was inside my cottage and had the door barred."

Solar Pons nodded and tamped fresh tobacco into his pipe. When it was drawing to his satisfaction he leaned forward and ordered a refill of Jessel's tankard. His penetrating eyes seemed to bore right into the old man.

"Now just pay attention, Jessel, as this is extremely important. When first you saw the figure was it down below the level of the road or up the embankment?"

A startled expression passed across the old man's features. "Down below the steep bank, sir. I am sure of it."

Solar Pons nodded, his eyes glinting.

"And was there a wind that evening? Think carefully."

The old man scratched his head and picked up his tankard with his unoccupied hand.

"Why, a bit of a wind had sprung up, sir. It was gusting and I noticed it was blowing the mist about at the edge of the marsh."

"Thank you, Jessel. You have been extremely helpful. Here is a guinea for your trouble."

Waving away the old man's thanks Solar Pons turned to me. His expression changed.

"Not a word of what we have just been discussing, Parker. Ah, Dr. Strangeways. It is good to see you. Will you not join us? The sherry is excellent."

"Thank you, Mr. Pons. I would prefer a whiskey if it is all the same to you."

"By all means. Allow me to refill your own glass, Parker."

The doctor's bearded face looked chapped and red with cold. He clapped his hands together as he gazed round the crowded bar.

"How is my patient, Dr. Parker?"

I smiled.

"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 lookedup 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 above 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!"

And he was off, shouldering the shotgun and whistling to the dog to follow him. Solar Pons stood, smoke curling from the bowl of his pipe, a thin smile on his lips, as he followed Tebble's figure until it was lost in the haze.

"What do you make of him, Pons?"

"A bold fellow and an excellent shot by appearances."

"Do you think he is concerned with this business? It is highly suspicious finding him here by these ruins like this." Solar Pons arched his eyebrows.

"I do not see why, Parker. You are here yourself."

"But only with you, Pons, on highly lawful business."

Solar Pons chuckled, pulling ruminatively at the lobe of his left ear.

"Mr. Tebble is hardly likely to know that, Parker. Now that we are here, let us just look about."

Having satisfied himself that we were alone on the knoll, Pons produced his powerful pocket lens and went purposefully up and down the old ruins. It was indeed a tumbledown, God-forsaken spot and as the minutes passed and I watched his energetic, purposeful figure I marveled once again at the patience and thoroughness with which he examined details of brickwork, earth flooring and broken reed-stems whose stories, so obvious to him, were literally a closed book to me.

There was an air of disappointment about him as he put the glass in its case with a snap.

"This is not the place, Parker."

He glanced up at the brightening sky.

"Well, I hardly thought we should score on the first shot. We must take another walk."

Without turning he walked energetically down the knoll and plunged forward into the marsh again.

8

Within some twenty minutes the landscape had again subtly changed; if anything, it had become even more bleak and somber than that surrounding Grimstone Manor. Though the sun still shone, the slimy ooze ever deepened about us, as the warmth melted the ice which lingered in the hollows and a clammy vapor hovered thickly over the surface.

But Solar Pons was his old, energetic self as he led the way with unerring precision ever deeper into the heart of the bog, so that I was hard put to follow at times. Now and again he stopped to consult the map but was then swiftly off again like an urgent animal upon some scent. Just as I was about to become really worried, another knoll loomed up before us and there were the tumbled walls and remains of an ancient building that looked, from its general outline, like a medieval abbey or monastery.

Solar Pons looked at me with satisfaction.

"We are improving, Parker. It is not so very difficult to find one's way about, providing one reads the map accurately and uses one's common sense."

"You have exceptional abilities, Pons," I murmured. "I would not care to be in this alone."

"Anyway, here we are at the abbey," said Pons. "We have only one other objective this morning and you will no doubt be pleased to learn that we are walking in a giant circle which should eventually bring us back somewhere within hailing distance of Grimstone Manor."

"I am glad to hear it, Pons," said I, setting foot on a solid earth path that led up toward the abbey ruins. "I am becoming a little tired of marshland, birds and sheep."

Solar Pons smiled grimily, looking sharply about him. He uttered a low cry of annoyance as we came up closer to the ruins. There were people there; many people, dressed in thick clothes and with rucksacks.

"Good heavens, Pons!" I exclaimed. 'These are the walkers; the people from the inn."

"Are they not, Parker," said Pons ruefully. "Any evidence our phantom has left here will certainly be obliterated by now."

But whatever disappointment he felt he managed to conceal with his usual adroit manner. He lounged up the path as though he had not a care in the world, exchanging friendly nods at the polite greetings of the people.

"The Cistercians were remarkable builders, Parker, were they not," he declared looking at the detail of a crumbling archway before us.

"Certainly, Pons. The order still flourishes, I believe?" "Most definitely."

Though Pons could not use his powerful magnifying lens, he certainly went over the ground in great detail, though the sightseers at this ancient monument would not have gathered it from his casual manner.

I sat down on a large flat stone and smoked for a while, content to let my companion wander; the sun was a little warmer in this enclosed space, though it was still bitterly cold and I did not linger long in that position. When Pons rejoined me his face had cleared.

"This is not the place, Parker. That seems self-evident." "You have found something, Pons?"

He shook his head as we hurried down the far side of the knoll and back into the marshy ground.

"These walkers have saved us time, Parker. The old ruins are too public. They came by the main road. There is a new, paved path not marked on my map, which leads direct to the ruins, which are listed as an ancient monument."

He smoked on in silence for a moment or two, his face looking worried.

"Our final destination this morning must bear out my theory or I shall have to rethink our tactics."

He said nothing further. We went on and on into the bleak wilderness, the cold forgotten in the exercise I found in treading in exactly the same places as those just vacated by my friend. We had been proceeding in this manner for some while when Pons stopped casually and turned to me. He made an elaborate ritual of clearing out the bowl of his pipe before tamping it with fresh tobacco.

"Solitude is a wonderful thing, Parker," he said. "It becomes more precious as we advance farther and farther into the twentieth century."

"I am not so sure, Pons…" I began when my companion rudely interrupted me.

"Come, Parker, solitude is at a premium. Even in the middle of a deserted swamp one cannot escape from the madding crowd. Good morning, doctor!"

To my astonishment a thick clump of bushes at the right of the path just ahead of us wavered, though there was no breeze. A moment later the bull-like form of Dr. Strangeways stepped on to the path. The doctor looked considerably embarrassed.

"Well, Mr. Pons," he rumbled. "I trust you did not think I was spying upon you?"

"I did not know what to think, doctor," said Pons blandly. "But if you wish to keep an eye on people without being observed, it is good to keep your binoculars in shadow. The sun was shining directly on to the lenses there."

The doctor bristled as though he were keeping his temper with difficulty.

"I was looking not at you, Mr. Pons, but at a pair of rare birds. I was concerned at their safety when I heard in the village that the walkers were on the marsh."

"I see," said Solar Pons, giving him a searching look. "However, I do not think you need be worried. They are not likely to go beyond the abbey ruins. You seem to have completed your post mortem rather quickly."

The doctor's eyes were clouded and blank as he turned them upon Pons.

"It was a routine matter after all. There is no doubt in my mind old Jessel died of drowning."

Solar Pons frowned.

"Yet you seemed to have some doubts earlier this morning, doctor. It was almost as though you yourself believed in the phantom of the marsh."

Strangeways drew himself up and his face looked troubled.

"I would not care to tell everyone this, Mr. Pons, but I felt guilty about Jessel. I had been deriding his stories, regarding them as mere drunkard's tales, but I myself saw something very strange after I left you last night."

"Indeed."

Strangeways nodded.

"I was called out after midnight to an emergency case. The patient's cottage was beside the main road beyond Grimstone Manor. I was driving along the rim of the marsh when I saw a weird blue light bobbing about, a considerable way off. It looked like a human figure but there was something unearthly about it."

Dr. Strangeways swallowed and there was doubt in his eyes as he looked at Pons somberly.

"It gave me quite a turn, Mr. Pons, I don't mind telling you. And I felt quite ashamed at disbelieving old Jessel. And when I saw him dead this morning my shock can be imagined. He was found, you see, quite near where I saw the figure last night. Ought I to tell the police and the coroner, do you think?"

There was an unexpected gentleness in Solar Pons' voice as he replied. He put his hand on the doctor's arm.

"Discretion for the time being, doctor, I feel. The fewer people who know about this the better."

The doctor nodded; there was a strange expression in his eyes as he gazed at Pons.

"Tell me," my companion continued, "what was this phantom like?"

Impatience was already returning to Strangeways' voice.

"I have already told you, Mr. Pons. It was a fiery, bluish figure. It was too far away to see any detail."

"But how did it appear or disappear?"

The doctor stared at Pons in exasperation.

"How should I know, Mr. Pons? It was already visible when I first became aware of it. As soon as I saw it I was so startled I almost drove off the road. When I looked again it suddenly disappeared."

"Just so."

Solar Pons nodded, an expression of satisfaction on his face. "As we have already heard. Like the pulling down of a blind, was it not?"

He turned to me.

"We shall be at the inn this evening, doctor, if we are required. Come, Parker."

We left the burly figure of the medical man standing in perplexity on the path. I glanced back once and saw the sun glinting on the rim of his binoculars, an expression of bafflement on his face.

A half hour of cautious casting about in the marsh brought us at last to our final destination, a huddle of squalid brick buildings that looked like an abandoned tenant farm. Solar Pons' eyes were quick and alert.

"Aha, Parker, this is more like it."

He bent down at the edge of the reeds where I could see the heavy impression of a foot. Pons had his lens out and was making a minute examination. He searched about for a few minutes, then traced the fading impressions up on to firmer ground where they were lost on a rocky outcrop.

I followed Pons over toward the dilapidated brick sheds. Their corrugated iron roofs were red with rust and it was obvious they had been abandoned for years.

"D'Eath Farm," said Pons, consulting his map. "A most appropriate name."

"What did the tracks tell you, Pons?"

He gave me a quizzical look.

"Quite a lot, Parker. Many people have been here. Some of the footprints I cannot make out. Certainly Strangeways has been here within the past few days. And possibly Tebble. I could not see the welts of his shooting boots because he was wearing them just now. But the imprints at the edge of the marsh there are similar to the ones he made in the soft earth when he was standing talking to us and the pawmarks of his retriever are unmistakable."

I looked at him wide-eyed.

"You could tell all that from this jumble of muddy marks on the ground, Pons?"

My companion chuckled.

"You forget I have made a study of such things, Parker. I could deduce a good deal more also. A lady has been here too. Though she wears heavy gumboots, her lighter step is quite distinctive and entirely different from that made by a child."

"You should write a monograph on the subject, Pons," I said drily.

Pons' wry smile widened.

"I have published four, Parker. But let us just look at those buildings yonder."

His aquiline nostrils were already sniffing the air as we approached the brick buildings. A moment later I caught what his keen sense of smell had already told him.

"Chemicals, Pons?"

Solar Pons nodded.

"Undoubtedly."

"Perhaps these sheds are used as an agricultural store, Pons?"

"Perhaps," was the cautious reply.

My companion stepped to the door of the largest building and frowned. He tried the handle cautiously. It was obviously locked. He looked through the grimy window but when I joined him it was impossible to make anything out; the windows had apparently been painted white on the inside. We moved round. The next lean-to had its door secured by a heavy padlock.

"These do not appear to be discussed after all, Parker," he said.

His eyes were twinkling as blue smoke uncoiled from his pipe. He thrust his hands deep into his pockets as he stared over my shoulder.

"For a swamp, this area of Kent is becoming remarkably crowded, Parker," he said mildly. "Good morning, Miss Grimstone!"

I turned to find our eccentric client's niece striding down a knoll toward us. She was sensibly and tweedily dressed and I saw at once that she wore stout gumboots plastered with mud.

"Good morning, Mr. Pons! Good morning, Dr. Parker!"

There was a smile on Miss Grimstone's face but it was obvious she was disconcerted.

"I come here often to search for wild flowers and plants," she said somewhat defensively.

"Indeed," said Solar Pons. "I am glad to have seen you for I intended to call at the manor on the way back. How is your uncle?"

"Well, Mr. Pons. But he is a badly frightened man. Could I persuade you to have lunch with us?"

Pons was taken aback but he concealed the fact well; perhaps we had been mistaken and Miss Grimstone was not so miserly as we had been led to believe.

"I must talk to you, Mr. Pons, and there will be little opportunity otherwise. I was just going back and I have the buggy on the high road only half a mile from here,"

Pons smiled as I looked thankfully from him to Miss Grim-stone. Truth to tell I was not keen to retrace my steps over the miles of marshland we had already traversed.

"If you have quite finished here… "

"By all means."

Pons fell into step with Miss Grimstone and the two of them led the way diagonally down the slope and in a direction at right angles to the way we had come. I was content to

follow behind them, keeping a sharp lookout still to make sure I was treading exactly in Pons' footprints.

Miss Grimstone did not seem quite so forbidding as she had first appeared and I noticed her shooting shrewd glances at Pons from time to time. Eventually she seemed to come to some decision for she said, with an ironical inflexion in her voice, "You do not seem to think much of our household, Mr. Pons. Please do not judge me too harshly. I have had to fight for everything I have and such early struggles tend to distort one's character."

I saw that Pons' features bore a reassuring expression as he turned his head back over his shoulder to include me in the conversation.

"I can assure you, Miss Grimstone, that I do not lightly judge people. I am too used to human nature to be surprised by anything I find; neither do I adopt a censorious attitude."

"Nevertheless, you have certain reservations about Silas Grimstone," said the gray-haired woman shrewdly. "I have a number myself."

"You are frank at any rate. It is true that I do not approve of miserliness, neither do I regard it as one of the major virtues, particularly when the person in whom it appears has more than his fair share of the world's goods."

Miss Grimstone nodded, a deep sigh escaping her lips.

"You are right, Mr. Pons, and I am afraid that my uncle's habits have become somewhat ingrained in me."

"It is often so in such enclosed households, Miss Grimstone. There was no need to mention it. And what of your uncle's earlier struggles…?"

"Business matters, Mr. Pons. He and his brother fought rancorous battles for control of the firm."

Solar Pons' brow knotted and he turned sharply toward our companion.

"I did not know Mr. Grimstone had a second brother."

The niece shook her head.

"He would not have mentioned it of his own accord, Mr. Pons. It was a sore point between them. In the end he bought out his brother's share of the firm. Mr. Jethro Grimstone emigrated to Australia, I understand."

"Indeed. When did all this take place, Miss Grimstone?"

"Many years ago, Mr. Pons. Over twenty, I believe. I was not living at the manor in those days, of course. But I heard all about it from my father, who died shortly after. There were three brothers, you see, but my father abhorred Silas Grim-stone. He was an open-hearted and generous man."

She smiled shyly at Pons as we slowly traversed the marshland path.

"I was only thirty or so then and much more personable. I was hoping to be married when my father died and there was a change in my circumstances."

There was a brooding sadness in her eyes as I glanced at her. I glimpsed in that moment all the long years of housekeeping for Silas Grimstone and all the hopes for a happier life with a husband and family she must long since have given up. Pons stared at her for a moment, compassion shining in his eyes.

"I am truly sorry to hear that, Miss Grimstone. What you have just said interests me. You say your second uncle went to Australia."

"So I was told, Mr. Pons."

"By Silas Grimstone?"

"Yes. He mentioned it a number of times."

"And after he had gained control of the firm, things greatly improved."

"I believe so, yes."

"Hmm." Solar Pons paused on the path and pulled reflectively at the lobe of his right ear. "You have not said much about this apparition of the marsh, Miss Grimstone. What is your theory about it? And why was your uncle so frightened?"

"Well, if you had seen it, Mr. Pons, you would have been frightened too."

Pons smiled ruefully.

"Perhaps you are right, Miss Grimstone. I understand it was seen again last night."

He held up his hand to avoid any further questions as we came up the narrow path onto level ground. Nearby a pony harnessed to a shabby carriage chewed the winter grass as it stood tethered to the fence. Solar Pons turned to me as he waited for Miss Grimstone to ascend to the driver's seat of the vehicle.

"I think perhaps it might be best if we kept watch at the Manor tonight, Parker. This will-o'-the-wisp may strike again and it is as well to be on our guard."

9

"I hope this is not going on my bill, Mr. Pons!"

Silas Grimstone's voice was thick with clotted greed as he glared at my companion. We were sitting in the parlor at Grimstone Manor, the blinds drawn, our chairs close to the smoldering fire on the hearth. We had already eaten. I was beginning to forget the dampness and chill of the marsh as we had seen it that morning, though the room was far from over-warm as the temperature had dropped considerably with the coming of nightfall.

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 beforgetting 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.

"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 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.

"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.

"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 a striking snake's. He cannoned into Knight and the crack of the explosion and the tinkle of window glass that followed showed where the bullet had gone.

"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 rushed after him at a lurching run.

"I am sorry, Pons," I said, as the lean shadow of my friend got to its feet.

Pons switched on his light again and as he did so we heard the faint crack of an explosion outside.

"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 an excellent target.

But the way soon twisted among thick bushes and Pons twice stopped to examine broken reed-stems under his light. His 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 down 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 seemed shaken. We stood there as it echoed and reechoed until it finally died away.

"It is all my fault," I said. "After all your efforts on behalf of your client."

Pons shook his head, a strange expression on his features in the glow of the flashlight. 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; as we stepped up on to the higher ground there was a low rustling in the bushes.

The disheveled figure of Knight stepped out onto 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. Knight," he said slowly. "I suggest we return to the manor immediately and break the news to Miss Grimstone."

12

"I am deeply shocked, but I cannot say I am entirely surprised at this ending, Mr. Pons."

Miss Sylvia Grimstone's face was gray and strained but she was quite in command of herself as she sat by the fire in the parlor at Grimstone Manor and poured 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. 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, pale 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 realized 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?"

"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 wood to feed the little blaze.

"It soon became evident that the appearance of the phantom and its 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 engineered or the masquerader 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 the apparition 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."

"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 odor of phosphorus, my conclusions were hardened."

"What about your third point, Pons?" I asked.

"That was the most important of all. The entire deception was designed as an accusation; to appeal to old Silas Grim-stone'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.

"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 my friend gently. "Jesse! undoubtedly fell into the water in a drunken stupor."

"What about the cuts on his hands, Pons?' I asked.

Pons shook his head.

"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 only Grimstone to see the figure he had created. You may remember I was particularly careful to ask Grimstone about the circumstances 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 ran off. Is that not so?"

"Indeed, Mr. Pons."

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 zigzagging motion the thing made was because Knight 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 corning 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," said Knight with a groan. "It happened exactly as you said. And I can swear that I was nowhere near old Jessel on the night of his death."

"I believe you," 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, 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," remarked Solar Pons with a dry chuckle.

There was silence for a brief moment. It was broken by Knight who seemed to be recovering his spirits as Pons proceeded.

"How did you come to suspect me?"

"I had a good many people who might have superficially fitted the bill," said Solar Pons. "They included Dr. Strangeways and a farmer on the marsh; our man might even have been concealed in a party of walkers who descended on the village. But I was looking for a young and active man; one who had a strong motive for treating old Grimstone so; one who had mastered all the paths and tracks of the marsh."

I looked at Pons in rising irritation.

"But how on earth could you have reasoned all this? We hardly knew Mr. Knight."

Solar Pons smiled, sending out a stream of aromatic blue smoke toward the ceiling.

"All this came to me very slowly old friend. And there was not a great deal of data to go on. But when I inspected the hotel register and found that Mr. Knight had come to The Harrow in September, only a few weeks before the ghostly manifestations began, my suspicions began to crystallize. Then, when Mr. Knight boldly introduced himself and I was able to study him close at hand, I immediately saw light. It was a master stroke, Mr. Knight, to make such a dramatic entrance, though there was some risk that Dr. Strangeways might have examined your supposedly injured ankle."

To my astonishment Knight gave a low chuckle.

"There is no getting around you, Mr. Pons. I reasoned, quite correctly, as it turned out, that Strangeways would not want to be bothered with anything so trivial, especially as he was enjoying a social evening at the hotel. Where did I go wrong?"

Solar Pons smiled thinly.

"When you came into the saloon you were limping with the right leg. The following morning, when we saw you just after breakfast, you limped on the left."

I looked thunderstruck at Pons. Even Miss Grimstone had to smile.

"But why all this masquerade and why the limp?"

"To provide an alibi, Parker," said my companion patiently. "An injured man could not leap agilely about the marsh in that fashion. The solution came to me rather late. It was the facial resemblance, you see."

"Facial resemblance, Pons?"

Solar Pons nodded dreamily, his eyes half-closed.

"Unless I miss my guess, Mr. Knight is a close relative of Silas Grimstone. I would hazard his nephew."

Miss Grimstone closed her eyes and appeared much moved by the disclosure. She breathed heavily.

"You are perfectly right, Mr. Pons."

"But why would Grimstone's nephew want to drive him out of his wits?" I cried somewhat wildly.

"One of the oldest motives known to mankind, Parker.-Revenge. Miss Grimstone herself supplied the missing fragments of my pattern on the marsh this morning. She said that Jethro Grimstone, the partner in the firm, went to Australia many years ago. It can never be proved now but I submit that his body is lying out there in the depths of the marsh somewhere. Mr. Knight — or rather Mr. Grimstone here — had come back from Australia and decided to take the law into his own hands to obtain a confession from his uncle. He would need an accomplice for that, Miss Grimstone, would he not?"

Our hostess drew herself up, tiny spots of red burning her cheeks.

"I know how it must look, Mr. Pons, but there was great justification for what John Grimstone did."

She looked across the room as though for silent corroboration from the man who had used the name, Knight. He stirred himself and stared at us with somber eyes.

"It is an old story, Mr. Pons, and goes back many years but I want you to know the truth. My father was a good man; he built the family firm, though there was always bad blood between the brothers. Silas was a dreadful, miserly man even when younger. My mother told me a great deal about the situation as I grew older. As I have said, I was only a child when the events I am referring to occurred. My family was well-off and we lived at Grimstone Manor in some style. Ail that was soon to change. My father told my mother a good deal about his suspicions but she was never able to prove anything.

"To bring a long story to a speedy end, Mr. Pons, my father simply disappeared one day. He was out on the marsh and never returned. Neither was his body recovered. A man resembling Silas Grimstone was seen at the nearest railway station, but my uncle maintained that he was in London all that day. He told us that my father had to go to Australia on business suddenly. The idea was ridiculous, particularly as he and mother were very close. Strange that he would go off like that without discussing it beforehand. In any case he had taken neither clothing nor luggage. It is my firm belief that Silas Grimstone waylaid my father on a lonely path in the marsh, attacked him from behind, perhaps with a heavy stone as a weapon, and then threw him into the quicksand."

The young man paused and stared at us with a haggard face.

"But a strange thing happened. A letter eventually came from Australia. It is my belief it was a forgery, committed at Grimstone's instructions. It was from a hotel in Adelaide and said father had to go out there on business for the firm. We were not to worry — and that he would return eventually. My mother showed the letter to a number of friends, but the forgery had been skillfully done and everyone said it was father's hand. Grimstone then started a rumor that the firm's affairs were in disorder and that father had fled to avoid being compromised in unscrupulous conduct.

"The final bombshell was a will, drawn up in Silas Grim-stone's favor and apparently signed by my father. It left the house and the business to his brother. Of course, my mother fought the matter in the courts, but after some years the decision went against us. She was penniless and had to give up the house. Eventually she scraped some money together and we sailed to a new life in Australia. But mother was broken in mind and body and she herself hardly knew what to believe. She had some hope that we would be reunited with father in Adelaide but of course there was no such hotel as that in the letter and we never did find him. She had told me of her suspicions as I grew older, and I progressed to manhood with a burning desire for revenge. Mother died a few months ago and I felt free to return, the remainder of the family being settled, and myself a bachelor. I heard that Silas Grimstone still lived, made my way to Kent and perfected my plan. It seemed perfectly justified to me. I modeled the phosphorescent hood on an old photograph of my father's features. I met Miss Grimstone on the marsh from time to time. She recognized the family likeness and I confided in her."

There was a long and deep silence, broken only by Pons knocking out his pipe in the fireplace.

"What have you to say to that. Miss Grimstone?"

"It is true, Mr. Pons. My uncle, by his manner and furtive behavior over the years regarding his brother had aroused my suspicions. He was pathologically frightened of anything to do with the marsh, though paradoxically, he felt compelled to go out at night on occasion."

"Perhaps he wished to make sure that the body of this young man's father remained undisturbed in its burial place on the marsh," suggested Solar Pons somberly.

Miss Grimstone shuddered and her face changed color.

"Perhaps, Mr. Pons. But with this background, rightly or wrongly, my sympathies were with John Grimstone, once I had heard his story. I have suffered a good deal under my uncle's regime here all these years. I am afraid I am not at all sorry at how it has turned out. But I must make it clear I did not know anything of the apparition or exactly what John Grimstone intended."

"I did not say I condemned either of you," said Solar Pons quickly. "And Silas Grimstone would certainly have killed young Mr. Grimstone here had not the marsh claimed the old rascal at an opportune moment."

"I helped John Grimstone to his revenge," said Miss Grimstone slowly and deliberately. "I informed him of the old man's movements and when he might be going out. We hoped for a full confession."

"You need say no more," said Solar Pons. "I think we might leave it there."

Both Miss Grimstone and the young man turned surprised faces toward my companion.

John Grimstone cleared his throat.

"I am not quite sure I understand you, Mr. Pons."

"I am not a moral judge, Mr. Grimstone," said Solar Pons. "I think we will leave the dead to bury the dead. I am convinced of the truth of your story and that rough justice has been done."

Miss Grimstone let out her breath in a long sigh.

"You are a good man, Mr. Pons."

Solar Pons chuckled.

"Let us just say, Miss Grimstone, that little would be served by further scandal. We will inform the police when they arrive that Silas Grimstone has disappeared on the marsh. There will be a search but nothing will be found. It will be a nine-day wonder and nothing more."

There was silence for a moment and then Miss Grimstone gave Solar Pons her hand.

"I will myself settle your fee, Mr. Pons."

There was an awkward silence.

"It was providence, Mr. Pons. This young man has been robbed of his patrimony. We cannot recompense him for the death of his father or the injustices he has suffered. But I feel free, as Silas Grimstone's beneficiary, to offer him his rightful half-share in the company and a place here at the manor with me. On my death the property and the business would revert to him, as I have no other kin."

"Justice, indeed, Parker," said Solar Pons softly. "Providence moves in mysterious ways."

And he said no more on the subject.