The Uncollected Cases of Solar Pons

1

"Good evening, Parker!"

"Good evening, Pons!"

Solar Pons shook the droplets of water from his overcoat and stamped his feet, his lean, feral face wearing a humorous expression. It was a foul, foggy evening in late November, and to make matters worse, the capital was shrouded in a weeping rain that seemed to penetrate to one's very bones with its coldness. I had spent a frustrating day on my rounds of patients and had been very glad to come in at six o'clock and take refuge in our comfortable quarters at 7B Praed Street.

It now turned seven o'clock, and I was pleased to see Pons, for I knew that Mrs. Johnson, our amiable landlady, was delaying our evening meal until his arrival. I had not missed the ironic tone in Pons' voice, with its implied commentary on the day and the subtle reference to the pending meal, and now I vacated my comfortable chair and came forward to help my friend out of his soaked hat and coat.

"Thank you, Parker. As usual, you are a model of thoughtfulness and consideration."

"Good of you to say so, Pons. You won't mind my mentioning it, but you look as though you have just come out of a particularly muddy section of the line on the Ypres Salient."

Solar Pons laughed, drawing close to the fire and watching the steam ascend from the toe-caps of his stout boots.

"You are not so far snort of the truth, Parker. I have been down to Hoxton, ferreting about on the site of a new housing estate. The swindles of Jabez Wilson are about to be put to an end. The mud and debris on the site was somewhat reminiscent of the late war, I must say. If you will just give me a few minutes to change my suit and clean up a little, Mrs. Johnson may serve as soon as she likes."

"Excellent, Pons."

I went down to acquaint Mrs. Johnson with the gist of

Pons' message and when I returned, my companion was restored to his immaculate self. He sat in his favorite armchair, his lean fingers tented before him, and he stared reflectively at the dancing firelight in the grate.

"Might there be some notes for me in this business, Pons?" I asked.

My companion smiled.

"I fear not, Parker. It is too mundane for your chronicles, and though The Adventure of the Hoxton Builder' might raise considerable expectation in the reader, I fear it would fall far short of your best efforts in the field — though Scotland Yard will be glad to learn that Mr. Wilson is in the net."

We were interrupted at that moment by the entry of our landlady, who held a large tray containing a wide assortment of steaming dish covers, from which came a variety of enticing aromas. We did full justice to our supper and by the time we had pushed back our plates and poured the coffee, I was beginning to take a more sanguine view of the world.

Solar Pons, his empty pipe in his mouth, was absorbed in the evening paper, and there was an agreeable silence between us for half an hour. Eventually he threw down the newspaper with an exclamation of disgust.

"This zoo business is intriguing, Parker, but the press has gotten hold of the wrong end of the stick."

"I have not seen it, Pons."

"The item is there, my dear fellow. It has been running for some weeks. I am convinced there is more to it than meets the eye. But you know the penchant the yellow press has for distortion and sensationalism."

"Come, Pons," I said, laughing. "You will be guilty^-of the very same fault of which you accuse your clients. I do not know the first thing about the matter."

Solar Pons smiled thinly and stroked his chin in a manner that had long become familiar to me.

"I apologize unreservedly, Parker. I always keep abreast of the criminal news, and I must confess I sometimes forget that others do not always share my somewhat esoteric interests. You will find most of the salient features in this evening's journal, though pathetically colored."

There was indeed a huge heading, I saw, as I picked up the newspaper that Pons had laid down. The article was blazoned: GROTESQUE MYSTERY AT ZOO! IS 'THERE A PHANTOM AT WORK?

I read it with increasing interest. The gist of it was as follows: It appeared that a mysterious nighttime intruder at the Zoological Gardens at Regent's Park had been leaving a trail of havoc behind him. The events had begun in October, when a nocturnal prowler had opened monkey cages, and chimpanzees and monkeys had run riot throughout the night. An incident the following week was more serious, when a Bengal tigress had been loosed from the Lion House.

"What might have been tragedy for the keepers when they first came on duty in the early morning was narrowly averted when the Head Keeper, Norman Stebbins, an exceptionally strong man, came to the aid of his colleague. He held the main doors by sheer strength until help was summoned. The beast was eventually netted and recaptured."

"A fine effort, Pons," I commented about Stebbins' feat. "Putting his arm through in place of the door bar like that."

"Indeed, Parker. Another case of nature imitating art."

"I do not follow, Pons."

"Mr. Stebbins would appear to have followed the example set by Kate Barlass, Parker."

My companion laughed at the blank incomprehension on my face.

"No matter, Parker. Pray continue."

I read on with mounting bewilderment. The events certainly seemed weird and disconnected. Other animals had been let loose, including ostriches and, in one case, a rhinoceros. Damage to property and danger to life had been the principal features here, though only one man, an underkeeper named Billings, had been slightly injured.

"The people at the zoo have been extremely lucky, Pons," I commented, folding the paper.

"Have they not, Parker. What do you make of it?"

"I have not yet finished the item, Pons, but there seems little point in any of it, unless some member of the public has a grudge against the zoo authorities."

"That is a possibility we must not overlook."

I looked at my companion sharply.

"You talk as though you expect to be retained in the matter, Pons."

"I must confess I am inordinately interested."

I read on in silence for another minute or so.

"This business of the spiders in the tropical house, Pons, is loathsome in the extreme. The Head Keeper had another narrow escape there."

"Did he not?"

"It is bizarre and inexplicable, Pons. I see that there is no evidence that any of the entrances or gates to the Zoological Gardens have been tampered with — though the person who entered the Tropical House broke a glass door in order to do so, before letting those dreadful creatures escape. And locks on cages were smashed."

Solar Pons rubbed his thin hands together and picked up his coffee cup with an expression of enthusiasm dancing in his eyes.

"The police are completely baffled, Pons."

"I am not surprised to hear you say so."

"It says here," I went on, reading from the newspaper, "'Public alarm is growing, and the activities of what has come to be called the Phantom of the Zoo are becoming more bold and daring. Already life has been endangered, and it is only a question of time before a fatality occurs. The cunningness of the Phantom. "

"Pschaw, Parker," said Solar Pons, interrupting rudely. "Pray spare me the rubbishly fulminations of the popular press. This is all very well for the romantic shopgirl or the more lurid manifestations of the cinema, but we continue to apply the ratiocinative processes at 7B. As I have observed before, this agency stands foursquare upon the ground."

"That is all very well, Pons," I said, refolding the paper and passing it back to him. "You have often remarked to me that such remarkable mysteries cannot be solved long-distance. And if you have not been retained, I do not see…"

"There is no mystery to be solved," said Solar Pons calmly. "Or, to be more precise, we can discount these rubbishy stories of phantoms and prowlers of the night. A human hand is at work here, opening cages, throwing back bolts, breaking windows. That goes without saying. The method of entry to the Gardens is a little more interesting, but not difficult for the right person. It is the motive that interests me. Human nature is one of the most fascinating of studies, Parker. 1 commend it to you."

"I am not entirely insulated from human nature in my profession, Pons," I commented somewhat stiffly.

Solar Pons smiled wryly.

"Touché, Parker. It was not my intention to give offense. But you have not yet looked at the Stop-Press."

I again picked up the paper from the table and turned to the item at the bottom right-hand corner of the front page, which he had underlined.

I read: EARLY ARREST EXPECTED. "Scotland Yard announced tonight they expect early arrest of Phantom of the Zoo. See story page 1."

"That would appear to be the end of the matter, Pons." "We shall see, Parker, we shall see," said Pons, an enigmatic smile on his face.

As he spoke, there came an imperative rapping at the front door, followed by an agitated ringing of the bell. A minute or two later, Mrs. Johnson’s well-scrubbed face with its heavy coils of hair appeared around the door.

"A young man to see you, Mr. Pons. He is in a dreadful state. He says it is about the Phantom of the Zoo."

2

Pons looked at me in silence for a moment, a slightly mocking expression in his eyes.

"Show him in, Mrs. Johnson," he said swiftly. "Pray do not go, Parker. I may have need of your common sense and ready wit."

"You do me too much honor, Pons," I mumbled, slewing my chair round so that I could command a better view of the door.

A young man of about twenty-eight entered, with tousled, fair, curly hair. He was roughly dressed in a dark blue uniform, but there was an air of such honesty and decency about him, notwithstanding his haggard and distraught expression, that I warmed to him immediately. He looked from one to the other of us, then unerringly made for Solar Pons and held out his hand as though in mute appeal.

"Mr. Solar Pons? I am in most desperate trouble, sir. I do not know which way to turn."

Solar Pons looked at him with a reassuring expression.

"Do not disturb yourself, young man. Sit down there. No doubt a cup of coffee would not come amiss on such a cold evening. If you would just do the honors, Mrs. Johnson."

Our landlady bustled about the table, making sure our guest was settled comfortably before she withdrew to the privacy of her own quarters. The young man was silent for a moment after she had left the room, his thick, spatulate fingers gripped convulsively around the cup as he took long, deep draughts of the black coffee.

"I do not seem to have caught your name," said my companion when our visitor seemed a little more himself.

"I am sorry, sir. This business has fairly thrown me, Mr. Pons. And now that I am suspected, my life is not worth the living."

He gazed fiercely at us for a moment and then relaxed again.

"My name is John Hardcastle, gentlemen. I'm an under-keeper at the Lion House at the Zoological Gardens, where all these terrible things have been going on."

"Indeed," said Solar Pons, a twinkle in his eyes. "This is my friend and colleague, Dr. Lyndon Parker. I take it you have no objection to his hearing your little story?"

Our visitor shook his head.

"By no means. It takes some believing, sir, but I ask you to believe I am innocent."

"Come, Hardcastle," said Pons in a soothing voice. "Drink your coffee, have another and proceed with your story in a connected manner, if you please."

We both waited while Hardcastle poured himself more coffee with a hand that trembled slightly, despite himself. "You've read the stories in the papers, Mr. Pons?"

"I am au fait with the salient points. Just exactly how you've come to be connected with this affair is not quite clear at present. You are employed at the zoo, as you have already told me. You are an old soldier; have seen much fighting in France, where your health was broken; you have been wounded; and you are fond of pigeons; but these facts tell me little about your present problems."

Our visitor stared at Pons open-mouthed, his coffee cup half raised from the saucer.

"Good heavens, Mr. Pons, the staff at the zoo told me about you. They said you were some kind of magician, but I do not see how you could possibly know all these things."

"They are true, then?"

"Near enough, Mr. Pons. But how…^"

^"It was simple enough," said Solar Pons, giving me a mischievous little glance.

"You are a young man of some twenty-eight years, of vigorous aspect and in rude health, apart from your current agitation, yet your face is marked by illness. By your age it follows, therefore, that you would have served in the late conflict, as zoo-keeping was not a reserved occupation, to the best of my recollection."

"Correct, Mr. Pons."

"Yet I noticed as you came through the door that you had a slight limp in your left leg. It was the merest conjecture, but I immediately concluded that you had been wounded in the war. When I see a scrap of wound ribbon on your uniform jacket there, my conclusion is confirmed. When I see next to it the ribbon of the Mons Star, it is no great feat of reasoning to deduce that you were in the infantry and saw heavy fighting."

"Again correct in every respect, Mr. Pons," said our visitor, awe and bewilderment on his frank, open face.

"I was a corporal in the Coldstreams. Lucky all through the war but caught some shrapnel in the leg only three months from the Armistice. I had trench-fever, too, and incipient tuberculosis and was laid up for a long time after the war, though I am fit enough now."

"I am glad to hear it," I put in. "As a medical man, my diagnosis exactly."

"You are ever reliable, Parker," said Solar Pons gravely. "But the pigeons, Pons?"

"Ah, that was the purest flight of fancy, Parker. Mr. Hardcastle has some cuts on his left hand. That may have something to do with his work in the Lion House, though I am sure he would not be careless enough to get within striking distance of his charges. But I noticed a series of minute red scratches on the first finger of his right hand. Only a pigeon-fancier gets those. The birds perch and alight on the right hand, and sometimes their sharp claws may inflict tiny scratches. It would take a deal of time to collect such a finger as our young friend has there."

"That is so, Mr. Pons," said Hardcastle.

"There is no tripping you, Pons," I complained bitterly. Solar Pons laughed shortly.

"I am far from infallible, Parker. But we stray from the point."

"I am not a rich man, Mr. Pons," said our visitor anxiously. "1 do not know what your fee would be…"

"Tut, man, let us not quibble about trifles," said Solar Pons impatiently. "You need not worry on that score. If a case interests me, I sometimes remit my fee altogether. And this one promises a maximum of interest. Pray proceed without further delay."

Some of the color was coming back to the young keeper's cheeks. He looked a fine, manly figure in his tight fitting uniform as he sat opposite, twisting his peaked cap shyly in his strong, capable hands.

"They all think I'm guilty, Mr. Pons," he said quietly. "Even my girl, Alice. The only one who believes in me is the Head Keeper and the man in charge of the Lion House, Mr. Hodgson. He has been most helpful. You see, Mr. Pons, almost everyone at the zoo thinks I did all those terrible things like letting Sheba out. Not to mention the damage."

He swallowed nervously. Then, encouraged by Pons' reassuring look, he went on.

"I love the work there, Mr. Pons. I wouldn't do anything to harm the zoo, the animals or the visitors, let alone my colleagues. But they found things in my locker. I don't know exactly what. Someone called the police, you see. I only heard about it in a roundabout way. My girl Alice came around early this morning to warn me. So I cut out. I wandered about all day. Then I remembered what I'd heard about you and decided to ask your help."

Solar Pons shook his head.

"Unwise, Hardcastle," he said gently. "It was the worst thing you could have done. If the police suspect you, as you suggest, and wish to interview you, they will find you soon enough."

There was dismay on the young man's face.

"I am sorry, Mr. Pons. I probably lost my head. I felt trapped, you see."

"I understand the feeling," I said sympathetically. "But Mr. Pons is right. We must go straight to the zoo. We will both support you."

"Hold fast, Parker," said Pons with a light laugh. "I make allowances for your enthusiasm, my dear fellow, but this is my case and I dictate the conditions. I have not even agreed to take it as yet."

"I beg your pardon, Pons," I said apologetically. "I naturally assumed…"

Solar Pons held up his hand, and Hardcastle, who had been rising to his feet, sat back down gently in his chair.

"Do not concern yourselves. I have decided to take the case. Unless I am a worse judge of character than I imagine, Mr. Hardcastle is a transparently honest man. But I have not yet finished my questions."

He got up briskly.

"Now, Hardcastle, cast your mind back. I want to know more about these incidents: what your movements were, and particularly what things were found in your locker."

He glanced at the clock in the corner.

"There is nothing to be gained by a visit to the zoo at this hour of the evening. The premises will be closed and the authorities will not welcome us. There will be time enough tomorrow. But a visit to the police is an entirely different matter. We must make contact with them tonight and have our story ready. Superintendent Heathfield, I think. Scotland Yard is already engaged in the matter."

He turned back to me.

"Now, Parker, I am sorry to turn you out again, but I would be grateful if you would hail a cab. I will finish questioning Hardcastle here en route to the Yard."

3

When I returned to 7B, Pons was already dressed for the street, and our client was wearing a suit of gleaming oilskins, which Mrs. Johnson had hung on a peg in the hall. Pons flung me a glance of approval.

"Hardcastle has just been telling me about the material discovered in his locker. An axe that had been used to smash a kiosk, fragments of wood still on it; some red paint similar to that which daubed a restaurant wall a few weeks ago; duplicate keys to some of the animal houses; and a pair of gloves covered with paint stains."

I stared at Pons somberly.

"It looks bad on the face of it, Pons."

"Does it not, Parker. But there is a factor of great significance."

He smiled reassuringly at Hardcastle's doleful face as we descended the stairs to the lower hall.

"And what is that Pons?"

"There is no key to Hardcastle's locker, and in fact none of the lockers belonging to the staff of the Lion House are ever locked."

"I fail to see the importance, Pons."

"Tut, Parker. Use your ratiocinative processes. If the locker had been secured, things would have looked black. But in such a situation anyone could have placed the material there."

"I see, Pons. Of course."

Solar Pons stroked his ear with a thin finger.

"In fact, assuming Hardcastle's innocence, I have never heard of such a fatuous and clumsy attempt to implicate anyone. But it gives rise to some intriguing possibilities. There is a good deal more here than meets the eye. It is a pity you cannot remember more about the incriminating material in your locker, Hardcastle. I appreciate the fact that you heard most of the details from your young lady, but you should have paid closer attention."

"I am afraid I was too agitated at the time," said our client apologetically.

He led the way down the steps to where the taxi waited, and a few moments later we were lurching through the fog and rain toward our destination. On arrival at Scotland Yard, Solar Pons sent up his card, and we were rapidly shown to a discreet room on the third floor, where Superintendent Stanley Heathfield had his office. He himself rose from his desk as a plainclothes officer showed us in, his eyes gleaming with pleasure.

"You know Dr. Parker, of course," said Solar Pons casually. "This young man is a client of mine. I will introduce him presently."

"As you wish, Mr. Pons."

Superintendent Heathfield waved us into comfortable chairs and went back to sit at his desk. A number of sporting prints in gilt frames were hung on the green walls of his room, and a gas fire burned comfortably in the grate.

"You are working late, Superintendent."

"You know very well this is our usual routine, Mr. Pons. Fencing for information, are you?"

Solar Pons leaned forward in his chair and smiled thinly. "Just sounding out the ground, Superintendent."

"There is a great deal on, Mr. Pons. And I am expecting a visitor. But it must be something of great importance that brings you here on such a foul evening. Perhaps you are stuck on a little problem? Well, we are always happy to assist at the Yard."

Solar Pons smiled again.

"Touché, Superintendent. You are in fine form this evening, I see."

Heathfield's eyes twinkled as he glanced around at us in turn.

"Have some tea, gentlemen. I have just taken the liberty of ordering a tray."

He sat back at his desk and examined his perfectly manicured fingernails as a woman in dark overalls entered and set out the cups and a pot on a corner of the desk. When we were alone again, he was silent as he poured. Hardcastle rose clumsily and passed the cups to us. Heathfield sat back and regarded us with quizzical brown eyes. With his tall figure and clipped, iron-gray moustache, he looked more like a dapper Army officer than ever.

"We have not worked together since that business of Elihu Cook Stanmore, Mr. Pons."

"This is nothing like that, Superintendent. Just a little puzzle connected with London Zoo."

Superintendent Heathfield straightened behind the desk, and his eyes were no longer humorous.

"Little puzzle or no, Mr. Pons, it is certainly no joke. I am having to deploy a great many people in order to catch this madman who is endangering life and limb."

Pons' eyes caught our client's and then swiveled to the superintendent again.

"Something has happened today?"

Heathfield nodded.

"It was in the evening paper, but you may have missed it. Someone let out a polar bear. hasty business. One attendant badly injured. I had to get some marksmen in and shoot the brute."

Hardcastle had turned white, and his eyes held a mute appeal as he stared at Pons. My companion appeared oblivious to him, however, his eyes apparently fixed vacantly in space.

"Dear me, Superintendent. You have been at the spot?" Heathfield shook his head.

"I have just returned from a murder investigation in Surrey, Mr. Pons. We are under some pressure at the moment. But I am on my way to the zoo shortly, if you would care to accompany me. Sir Clive Mortimer, the President of the Zoological Society, is coming over. No doubt he is enraged and will be critical of police methods. It is to be expected. I think it only right to go and see for myself, though this confounded phantom is proving incredibly elusive."

"Well, well," said Solar Pons in a monotone. "Perhaps you will have some news for him. I would like you to meet my client here. John Hardcastle is underkeeper at the Lion House and a young man who is unhappy about this whole affair."

There was a long moment of silence as the Superintendent stared at Pons. Hardcastle had gone white and sat as though rooted to his chair, beads of perspiration streaking his face. Heathfield half rose and then seated himself again. "I am glad that he has come in," he said mildly. "He has nothing to fear if he has a clear conscience."

"That is what I have told him," said Solar Pons. "Though I am glad to have it confirmed from your own lips."

Heathfleld leaned forward and pressed a button on his desk. A door in the far corner of the room opened and a tall, frosty-haired man came in. He looked incuriously at the superintendent.

"This is Detective-Inspector Glaister. I would like you to take a statement from Mr. Hardcastle here. He is the man we wish to question in connection with the business at the Zoological Gardens. He is the client of Mr. Solar Pons, whom I believe you know."

The inspector smiled and came over to Pons and shook his hand cordially.

"Glad to see you again, Mr. Pons."

He waited while Hardcastle got to his feet. At a gesture from Pons, Heathfield hesitated a moment and then added, "When you have finished with Mr. Hardcastle, bring him over to the zoo, will you? I shall be there with Mr. Pons and Dr. Parker."

"Very good, sir."

Our client went out apprehensively with the big officer. Heathfield put down his cup with a clink in the silence.

"If all is as you say, Mr. Pons, he has nothing to fear. Let us just hope he has been telling the truth."

"This business is all too curious to be the work of that young man, Superintendent," said Solar Pons.

Heathfield opened his mouth to answer, but at that moment there came a deferential tap at the door, and a uniformed sergeant appeared to announce Sir Clive Mortimer.

Pons and I would have withdrawn but Heathfield gestured to us to remain. The peppery little man who bounced into the room hesitated on seeing the three of us, but then squared his shoulders and advanced grimly toward the superintendent's desk.

"I must say, Superintendent, that this is outrageous. Absolutely outrageous. That this scoundrel can lay waste the Zoological Gardens in such a manner without being detected is quite beyond my comprehension."

Sir Clive spluttered as if he had run out of steam and glared at Heathfield belligerently. He had a pink face almost like a child's, with feathery white hair and a thin smear of moustache like lather. With his old-fashioned frockcoat, his dark raincoat, and the black wide-awake hat he carried in his hand, he looked like an illustration out of a nineteenth-century volume by Dickens or Wilkie Collins.

"Please compose yourself, Sir Clive. Have a cigar, sir. I assure you we are doing all we can. Allow me to present Mr. Solar Pons and his colleague Dr. Lyndon Parker."

The little man brightened.

"Mr. Pons. The eminent consulting detective?"

He came forward to shake hands with us both, then turned back to give a frosty glance to Heathfield.

"Is it too much to hope that Mr. Pons has been retained in this matter? I would give a great deal if it were so." Inspector Heathfield chuckled with amusement.

"Mr. Pons is already connected with the affair, Sir Clive. One of your keepers, Hardcastle, has fallen under suspicion. Mr. Pons has been engaged to represent him."

"Hardcastle?"

The little man wrinkled up his face.

"Well, I know nothing of the details, Superintendent. But I am responsible to the Fellows and the Society's Council. We have never had anything like this in all our long history. I hope that it will shortly he cleared up."

He came close to my companion and peered sharply in his face.

"And I trust your man is innocent, Mr. Pons. Though I have no doubt you will shortly get to the bottom of the business. I have little faith in the London police."

Solar Pons smiled.

"You are too flattering in my case, Sir Clive. And too harsh in your strictures on the official force. I have no doubt that between us we shall introduce light into what has hitherto been murky."

"Well, you may well be right, Mr. Pons," said Sir Clive grudgingly. "Now, Superintendent, I believe you wish to see me privately. After that, I am at your service. I would like to return to the Gardens at once. Some of my colleagues are standing by at my office there."

"Certainly, Sir Clive. If you would come into this inner room for a few minutes… I am sure you do not mind waiting a short while, Mr. Pons."

"By all means, Superintendent."

When we were alone, Solar Pons stretched himself out on his chair, put his long legs in front of him, and lit his pipe. Blue smoke rose in wreaths toward the ceiling. His eyes were twinkling.

"Well, Parker, what do you think of this business?"

"It would seem dark and impenetrable, Pons, assuming that your client, Hardcastle, is innocent. Apart from everything else, it is completely pointless."

"Is it not. Yet does not the sheer welter of events and the degree of mischief involved suggest something to you?" I stared at my companion in astonishment.

"I do not follow you, Pons."

"It would not be the first time, Parker. Just use those faculties of intelligence that you so often bring to your medical diagnoses."

"Ah, well, Pons, that is a matter of science, whose limits are well signposted with textbook examples."

Solar Pons shot me a wry smile.

"But detection is an equally exact science, Parker. Every apparently disconnected fact has its place in the diagnosis. Just as you draw logical conclusions from your patient's perspiration, breathing and location of pain, so do I similarly read a connected sequence of events from crushed blades of grass; cigarette ash carelessly scattered; or the angle of a wineglass. Let me just have your thoughts on the present troubles at Regent's Park Zoo."

"You are right, Pons, of course," I replied. "But I fear I make a poor diagnostician in your sphere of life. Each to his own profession."

"Tut., Parker, you do yourself poor justice. You are constantly improving in your reading of events. For example, what motive would the person or persons committing malicious damage bring to these senseless acts?"

Pons stared at me through the wreathing blue coils of smoke from his pipe.

"It is just in those areas that I am such a poor reasoner, Pons."

"Pschaw, the matter is so simple as to be obvious. I have already given you the clue in my remarks. Malice, Parker. Malign, perverted anger and an urge to destroy, which does not even shrink at the possibility of taking human life in the process. When we get such acts, then we begin to find our thoughts directed into other areas. As we progress, so wili the motive become clear. But here is the superintendent back again."

The vigorous figure of Heathfield had returned to the desk, reaching down his overcoat and umbrella from the stand behind it. Behind him stood the uneasy, chastened figure of Sir Clive. Pons turned from the vinegary countenance of the zoo official, and the lid of his right eye dropped slowly. I savored the moment all the way to the zoo.

4

It was almost ten o'clock when we arrived at Regent's Park; yet despite the lateness of the hour, the main entrance to the zoo was a blaze of light. But the police driver, at a sign from Heathfield, obeyed Sir Clive's instructions to drive farther on to the Fellow's Entrance.

"More discreet," said the president, clearing his throat with an irritating little coughing noise. Pons and I waited until he and Heathfield had alighted and then followed. The rain was still driving hard, and I buttoned up my coat collar tightly as we crossed the asphalt. We were within the zoo grounds, as the police car had driven straight in, and the coughing roar of a lion, drifting across the Regent Canal, came to us, mysterious and sinister in the semidarkness.

"I have an office in the administrative building," said Sir Clive fussily. "We had best go there initially. I have kept back the key staff following today's incident, and you will no doubt wish to question them, Mr. Pons."

"With the superintendent's permission," said Solar Pons with a slight bow to the Scotland Yard man.

We followed the president through a metal gate and up a path to a large red-brick building set back amid gracious lawns and flower beds. It obviously fronted onto the Inner Circle because I could hear the faint hum of traffic from a roadway somewhere beyond. The façade of the building was a blaze of light, and the large room into which Sir Clive led us was thronged with chattering groups of officials and attendants in uniform.

A respectful silence fell as we entered, and a thin young man with sandy hair detached himself from a knot of people in soberly dressed clothing and hurried toward us.

"Everything is in readiness, Sir Clive."

"Good. This is my secretary, Conrad Foster. Superintendent Heathfield. Mr. Solar Pons. Dr. Lyndon Parker." The young man nodded pleasantly.

"Welcome, gentlemen. Shall I lead on, sir?"

"By all means. I just have to give some instructions."

The secretary ushered us up a wooden staircase at the side of the building and into Sir Clive's office, a pleasant, simply furnished room, evidently one of a number opening onto a long corridor. There were framed photographs of wild animals on the walls, some obviously taken in Africa, and one group included Sir Clive in tropical uniform watching water buffalo through binoculars.

"Please make yourselves comfortable, gentlemen. Sir Clive will not be long."

As he spoke, the zoo chief's tread sounded along the corridor, and the little man bounced in and took his place behind the desk, the secretary at his right.

"If you will take notes, Foster, I think we will begin shortly."

He looked at Heathfield and Pons with a quick, bird-like inclination of the head.

"With your permission, gentlemen, I will conduct the preliminary inquiry on today's incident, on behalf of the Society. naturally you will be free to ask your own questions at any stage of the proceedings. Similarly, any particular member of the staff you require to be questioned can be brought here at short notice."

He sniffed, a smug expression on his face.

"Though I do not think that will be necessary, as almost everybody who could have the slightest bearing on the matter is waiting down below."

"I see."

Superintendent Heathfield nodded, his eye catching Pons' with a twinkle.

"I cannot speak for Mr. Pons, of course, but that seems perfectly satisfactory to me."

My companion nodded.

"I should like to see the polar bear enclosure and the body of the animal, if it has not yet been removed, despite the lateness of the hour."

Sir Clive shifted in his chair.

"There will be no difficulty, Mr. Pons. We have our own pathology department here where dead animals are dissected, as well as a well-equipped dispensary for the care of our charges."

"Excellent, Sir Clive," said Solar Pons crisply. "I would also particularly like to have a few words with your Head Keeper, Norman Stebbins, before you begin."

Mortimer looked discomfited.

"But he was not concerned in today's incident, Mr. Pons."

"Exactly, Sir Clive. That is why I wish to see him." The president turned a little pink around the ears. "But Mr. Pons, I fail…"

"Tut, tut, Sir Clive," said Solar Pons calmly. "It is surely self-evident. Stebbins is in charge of all your staff, is he not? And he obviously knows a good deal about them. I would like him present throughout even if only to corroborate the other attendants' stories. It is vitally important that we have a reliable check on such matters. It will save a good deal of time and can only act in the interests of my client, Hardcastle. Incidentally, I shall require Hardcastle to be present throughout, just as soon as he arrives."

"Very well, Mr. Pons," said Sir Clive grudgingly. "There is a good deal of common sense in what you say."

"It is good of you to say so," said Solar Pons ironically, evading Superintendent Heathfield's eye. "Now I would suggest we summon Stebbins without more ado."

The Head Keeper proved to be a thickset, muscular man in his early forties with a bright, intelligent face bisected by a heavy brown moustache. He was evidently ill at ease in the presence of the Zoological Society chief but sat down at Pons' request and waited expectantly for the questioning to begin. Sir Clive opened his mouth to speak, but before he could do so, my companion cut in smoothly.

"I would just like to ask a few questions, Sir Clive."

"As you wish, Mr. Pons," said the president in a disgruntled voice.

Solar Pons turned to the Head Keeper, tenting his fingers before him.

"That was a first-rate effort at the Lion House, Stebbins. You undoubtedly averted what might have been a major tragedy."

The Head Keeper's face flushed with pleasure.

"It is good of you to say so, Mr. Pons."

Sir Clive cleared his throat.

"The Council has not overlooked the matter, Mr. Pons. A presentation is to be made at a later date."

"I am glad to hear you say so, Sir Clive. A loyal and devoted staff is beyond price in these days of changing values."

Again the annoying throat clearing by Sir Clive.

"Quite so, Mr. Pons."

Solar Pons turned back to Stebbins.

"Let us just hear your opinion of these strange goings-on."

"Well, sir, begging Sir Clive's pardon, there's not much sense to any of it. Trivial, silly things, like monkey cages being opened. Or windows broken and paint being smeared across buildings. Then the person responsible seems to become enraged and do something dangerous, or even murderous."

Solar Pons chuckled.

"Ah, so you have noticed that, have you? I must commend your intelligence. You have no theory to account for it?"

Stebbins shook his head.

"The whole thing is pointless, Mr. Pons, unless a member of the public has a grudge."

"That is what I particularly wanted to ask you, Stebbins. Would access not be difficult for the public?"

An embarrassed look passed across the Head Keeper's face.

"I get your drift, Mr. Pons. I would be loath to suggest that any member of my staff would be responsible. Everyone here loves animals. That goes without saying, or they wouldn't work here."

"Yet dangerous animals have been loosed to kill or maim as they fancy. Is it not so?"

Stebbins nodded reluctantly.

'That is correct, Mr. Pons. But it would not be beyond the bounds for members of the public to gain access to the Zoological Gardens after dark. There are a number of places where an athletic man could get over fences. I would say it seems like the work of an unbalanced person."

An alert expression passed across Solar Pons' feral features.

"What makes you say that?"

"Because locks have been smashed on cages where the doors could simply have been opened by the catches. Yet on the cages of dangerous animals such as the tigress, Sheba, or at the polar bear pit today, heavy padlocks, which one would expect to be smashed, have been unlocked as with a key or a lock pick."

There was a heavy silence in the room, broken only by the deep-throated roaring of some animal far off across the park. It seemed to give a dark and sinister cast to the subject under discussion.

"That is extremely interesting, Stebbins."

Solar Pons turned to me.

"You may remember, Parker, I told you there is a great deal more here than meets the eye."

"I must confess I am all at sea, Mr. Pons," said the president, obviously nonplussed.

"Nevertheless, we progress, Sir Clive. Our talk here with your Head Keeper is proving invaluable. He is evidently a man who keeps his eyes open and knows his staff."

"I do my best, sir."

"I am sure you do. You will kindly remain here and give us the benefit of your wisdom when Sir Clive questions the other actors in this strange drama. Ah, here is Hardcastle, none the worse for his little adventure at the Yard."

Indeed, almost before Pons had finished speaking, Hardcastle, his eyes bright and anxious, was sitting down before Sir Clive's desk. That worthy was considerably irritated when Solar Pons calmly rose from his seat.

"I think I have seen and heard enough here for the moment, Sir Clive. We may safely leave this important matter in your hands. As for myself, if Superintendent Heathfield would be so kind, I should like to see the polar bear enclosure and the other sites of the incidents under examination today."

"Very well, Mr. Pons."

Sir Clive was evidently disgruntled and his face was pink. I saw the secretary, Conrad Foster, bent over his notebook. He flashed me a secret smile while still turned away from the peppery little man at his side.

Superintendent Heathfield rose and excused himself. Solar Pons nodded affably toward our client.

"Just answer the questions to the best of your ability, Hardcastle, and you will have nothing to fear. Come, Parker."

And he led the way from the room.

5

"But you have learned nothing yet, Pons," I protested as we descended the stairs.

"On the contrary, Parker, I have learned a great deal," said my companion, lighting his pipe as we followed the tall form of the superintendent out into the gardens. The rain had stopped now, but the mist persisted, and I turned up my coat collar and followed the faint chain of sparks left by Pons' pipe as he hurried forward.

"Sir Clive's examination will lead only to a great deal of repetition. I have already come to some firm conclusions on this affair and would prefer to test them on the ground. I think I can leave it to Stebbins' common sense to draw to my attention any anomalies in the attendants' statements, and no doubt Hardcastle will have his own interests at heart."

"You surprise me, Pons."

"The day I do not, Parker, I shall think my grip is slip_ping."

"Come, Pons," I said, a little put out. "For instance, what about all these past incidents?"

"Nothing simpler, my dear fellow. I shall visit each site in turn and make my own observations on the spot. The superintendent has every detail at his fingertips. And then I shall want to see Hardcastle's lady friend tomorrow."

"Lady friend, Pons?"

Solar Pons chuckled as we followed Heathfield through the mist in the direction of the main gate and the polar bear enclosure.

"The girl, Alice, who warned him that he was under suspicion. She sounds like a quick-witted young woman. I have no doubt she will have some ideas of her own about this matter."

"Despite your remarks, Pons, you continue to surprise me."

"Ah, Parker, there is nothing like a woman's intuition in these affairs. Their minds often retain the most surprising information. But here we are at our destination."

We had arrived at Mappin Terrace, and Superintendent Heathfield led the way to the polar bear enclosures, towering concrete structures, separated from the public by a deep artificial chasm in front of the viewing galleries. We walked up a series of steps to where a group of officers stood with portable electric lights whose thick cables snaked away into the darkness.

Pons hurried forward and examined the heavy padlock and chains that were lying on the ground. A great white form lumbered by in the darkness beyond the bars, and I glanced apprehensively at Heathfield. He smiled wryly.

"We are in no danger, Dr. Parker. The zoo authorities have placed temporary padlocks on this enclosure. The material on the ground here was used to secure the entrance door. It is lying just as it was found."

"Excellent, Superintendent. You have excelled yourself." Solar Pons bent to one knee. He had his magnifying glass out and examined the lock carefully.

"Opened with a key. You have dusted for prints, I see." The superintendent inclined his head.

"Nothing, Mr. Pons. He was wearing gloves."

Solar Pons smiled at me wryly.

"A cunning fellow, evidently, Parker. But this follows the pattern. Flimsy material smashed. Massive defenses unlocked."

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

"Just think about it, Parker."

My companion turned to the superintendent.

"One bear only was involved?"

"Fortunately, Mr. Pons. The animal was seen moving off down the ramp to the zoo but was tackled with commendable courage by a junior keeper, Carstairs. He attempted to corner it with a pitchfork, but it attacked and savaged him. The attendants managed to keep it at bay, penning it with rope, hurdles and netting, and when my own people arrived they had to shoot it."

"I see."

Solar Pons stood in thought for a moment.

"It will probably tell us very little, but I should like to look at the carcass. Then I think a little visit to the Lion House would be in order, if it can be arranged."

"Certainly, Mr. Pons. Sir Clive has assigned to us a member of the zoo staff who has most of the master keys." "Excellent."

"The corpse of the bear is in the dispensary quarters, Mr. Pons. It is on the way back to the Lion House."

I followed my two companions as they hurried off down toward the Gloucester Gate entrance while a thickset, amiable-looking man in zoo uniform, evidently the person with the keys mentioned by the superintendent, followed on behind. Heathfield led the way to a large block of brick buildings, which rose from a yard set beside some of the small mammal houses. There was the pungent smell given off by wild animals, mingled with disinfectant as we crossed the yard, from which came the sound of a hose sluicing water over cement.

The corpse of the bear, partly dissected, was lying on a stone slab raised up from the floor under a powerful electric light in a corner of an enormous, bare, whitewashed room.

"I did not think it necessary to have the veterinary surgeons on call tonight, Mr. Pons," said Heathfield.

Solar Pons shook his head.

'They could add nothing and I presume that in any event you have their reports."

"Certainly, Mr. Pons. But with today's near tragedy, I felt it essential that we press on with the investigation with the utmost dispatch before something more serious occurs."

"It seems difficult to imagine anything more serious," I observed, looking at the huge, bloodstained mass of the bear.

"Polar bears and tigers are serious enough. But I take it you were referring to fatalities."

"Certainly, Doctor. It will be only a question of time before this ends in tragedy. The keeper attacked by the bear was badly savaged but is out of danger, I understand."

'Thank heaven for that," I said. "What are your findings there, Pons?"

I went around to stand with my companion as he went over the bear's claws with his powerful lens.

"Precious little, Parker. I did not expect to find anything. But the basic rule of detection is to make a thorough examination, however unlikely it may be to yield anything. One occasionally comes across surprises."

He bent over the bloodstained front paws of the colossal beast.

"Hello!"

There was excitement in his voice.

"What do you make of this, Parker?"

Superintendent Heathfield was standing at the far end of the room now, chatting with the attendant, and we were temporarily alone.

"It looks like a length of thread, Pons."

"Does it not? Perhaps from the uniform of the attacked keeper. However, I think I shall just retain it for the moment. One never knows when it may come in useful."

And he picked out the snort length of gray thread and placed it carefully in one of the little envelopes he kept specially for the purpose. The examination was soon concluded, and we walked back down toward the superintendent.

"I take it there is no doubt the polar bear is a wild and savage animal?"

"None at all, sir," said the attendant, touching his cap to my companion. "Polaris — that's the dead beast, sir, was particularly vicious. Took three shots to kill him."

"Indeed."

Solar Pons glanced around him.

"Well, Superintendent, I think we have done enough here. I suggest a short visit to the Lion House before we return to Sir Clive."

He glanced at his watch.

"I think that is all we can hope to do tonight. It will be midnight before we conclude, in any event."

Heathfield led the way through the thin mist to where the police car was parked.

"I got Sir Clive's permission. I think it will save time if we go by car, and it will prove less fatiguing. The zoo grounds are so extensive."

"Admirable, Superintendent. You appear to have thought of everything."

Heathfield smiled thinly and took his place next to the driver, while Pons and I and the keeper traveled in the back. After a short interval spent nosing through the mist along the broad asphalt walks between the animal cages, we drew up before the massive entrance of the Victorian Lion House. Lights shone from within the building, and there came a low, keening roar that was unmistakable.

We waited while the keeper unlocked the big double doors and followed him into the cavernous interior. A strong odor of the big cats came out to us, bitter and pungent. Dim forms moved behind the bars of the cages set at the left-hand side of the long house, and the few overhead lights switched on at this time of night cast deep pools of shadow.

There were stone steps to the right, with wooden benches set on the flat space at the top and a burly figure in dark uniform was waiting there. He rose as we entered and hurried down the steps toward us. He touched his cap to Superintendent Heathfield, whom he had apparently met before.

"Mr. Stebbins told me I was to look out for you, Superintendent. Any way in which I can help…"

"Thank you," said Heathfield crisply. "We may need you shortly. For the moment we will just look about."

The burly man saluted again and went back to the bench with his colleague, and their gloomy conversation came down to us from time to time as we walked on in front of the great beasts. Pons himself reminded me greatly of the inmates of the cages as he prowled restlessly about, darting sharp glances here and there.

"Which is the cage from which Sheba escaped, Superintendent?"

"This one here, Mr. Pons."

Heathfield had stopped before a large enclosure set about halfway down the spacious house, in which a magnificent tigress paced majestically up and down, every now and then giving vent to a low, rumbling growl. Solar Pons paused and gazed thoughtfully into the great beast's glowing yellow eyes.

"A magnificent sight, Heathfield. I know of nothing so impressive. Intelligence, strength and courage. A formidable combination."

"Indeed, Mr. Pons. So you can imagine the degree of determination on Stebbins' part in acting as he did in preventing the beast from escaping."

"The point had not eluded me, Superintendent. I must examine the main door before I leave. In the meantime, with your permission, I wili just have a look at this cage here."

To my alarm he eased his lithe, angular form over the low metal barrier that prevented the public from approaching too close to the cages, and bent down in the narrow gangway inside. The tigress immediately stopped her pacing and then flung herself against the bars of the cage in an absolute paroxysm of fury. The sight was so stupendous in its savagery and the noise so deafening that even Pons was momentarily diverted from his purpose.

"What an incredible beast, Pons."

"Is she not, Parker."

"Take care, Pons."

"I shall certainly do that, Parker."

The animal was silent again now and resumed her tireless pacing, though every now and then she cast a sullen glare on my companion from her smoldering yellow eyes. The two keepers had come forward from the terrace at the back and now stood by silently, the burly man fingering a long metal pole.

"I do not think that will be necessary," said Solar Pons with a thin smile.

He bent forward to look at the cage, which had a sliding door, the bar of which was secured by a strong padlock. "Has this been changed, do you know, Superintendent?" Heathfield shook his head.

"Not to my knowledge, Mr. Pons. It had been opened with a key, according to our experts, and the retaining bar slid back."

"A risky business," said Solar Pons dryly, turning his gaze up toward the ceiling.

"Hello!"

There was a sharp urgency in his voice.

"What is it, Mr. Pons?"

"Look there."

We all followed Solar Pons' pointing finger. At first I could not make it out and then saw a small piece of frayed twine, which was fastened to the bars of the sliding door near the top.

"Just a piece of string, Pons."

"Is it not. Parker! But a simple ruse that ensured the survival of this phantom you talk about. Unless I mistake my vocation, he simply attached a cord and slid the door open from the safety of that door yonder."

He turned to the keepers.

"What is in there?"

"Feed storage and staff locker room, sir."

"Hmm."

Solar Pons climbed back over the barrier and rejoined us, his eyes sharp and intent, oblivious to the caged forms of the lions and tigers that circled aimlessly in the background.

"The twine may have been broken by the tigress when she jumped to the ground. Perhaps by a hind leg. Or our man may simply have snapped it with a strong tug. How would be have gotten out?"

"There is another door to the outside beyond the locker room, Mr. Pons," said the burly keeper, looking at my companion curiously.

"What is your name?"

"Hodgson, sir."

"Very well, Hodgson, just lead on. will you?"

The thickset keeper walked briskly up to the far door and beckoned us through into a chill, high, bleak room that seemed cold despite the bales of straw in the corner. There was a heavy wooden block with a cleaver and saw, the remains of a carcass on it, and some metal bins for foodstuffs.

"This is where you prepare the food for the animals?" said Pons, glancing around him keenly.

"Exactly, sir."

The Lion House was well heated, and I suppose it was the contrast between it and this chill place that made me glad to leave it as Hodgson opened another door at the rear. This led to a small, cheerful room equipped with a gas fire, some tables and chairs, a stove, and a section in the corner where there were rows of green-painted lockers.

"This is our recreation room, sir. Cozy enough," said our informant with a sniff, looking about him. We all stood silent for a bit as Solar Pons paced around the room, his sharp glance appearing to miss nothing.

He stopped before the lockers with a grunt and produced his powerful pocket magnifying lens.

"Which of these is Hardcastle's?"

"Number four, sir," said Hodgson, with a puzzled look on his face.

"It is unlocked?"

"Certainly, sir. None of them lock."

"I just wondered," said Solar Pons blandly, "as I see this one in the corner has a length of wire twisted through, the hasp."

"That's mine, sir," replied Hodgson, a flush appearing on his features. "I am in charge here, you see, sir."

"And you prefer a little privacy. Of course, Hodgson. I am not implying any criticism. All the same, I would like each of the lockers opened."

Hodgson glanced at Superintendent Heathfield for a moment and then went forward with ill grace, untwisting the strands of wire. In the meantime Pons had opened Hardcastle's locker and was busy with its contents.

"Where is the material you removed from here, Superintendent?"

"It has been sealed in Sir Clive's office, Mr. Pons." Pons nodded.

"It is of no matter, really. Paint, an axe, gloves and other items, I believe."

"Yes, Mr. Pons. I have the list here."

Pons studied it in silence, then went swiftly around to the other lockers, cursorily examining their contents.

"We tested for prints, Mr. Pons," Heathfield volunteered.

"But found nothing useful," said Solar Pons with a thin smile. "Because everyone who works in or comes and goes from the Lion House has been along this aisle or put their hands against these lockers from time to time."

"Exactly, Mr. Pons. The whole situation was too confused and we could read nothing from it."

"I am not surprised."

Hodgson had opened the door of his locker now and stood aside. As he did so, a small piece of pasteboard fluttered to the ground.

"Allow me."

Solar Pons had stooped and picked it up before the other could move.

"What a charming young girl."

He held up the picture between thumb and forefinger, watching the slow flush that suffused the keeper's features. "My young lady, sir."

Hodgson took the picture from Pons and put it quickly in his pocket.

"My congratulations."

Pons glanced swiftly into the interior of the locker, which contained nothing of any great interest so far as I could make out.

"Thank you. Hodgson. I do not think there is anything further for the moment."

And with that he led the way to the door that connected with the open air.

6

"Well, Parker, what are your views on the affair?"

I braced myself in the interior of the cab, which had just lurched to a shuddering stop in a traffic jam, and regarded Pons quizzically. It was a cold, misty morning, though the rain had stopped, and we were on our way to the Zoological Gardens for a conference with Sir Clive and Heathfield.

Pons had remained closeted with Heathfield and the zoo officials until a late hour the previous evening, collating testimony from the various zoo staff, and I must confess I had dozed off in my corner of the office in which I had begged to be left. Pons had been in an extremely pensive mood on our way back to Praed Street, and his uncommunicativeness had prevailed throughout breakfast this morning so that I was pleased to see his normal mood restored.

"I am all at sea, Pons."

"You do yourself an injustice, Parker. Pray apply your mind to it."

I settled myself more comfortably in my corner as our driver started off again at a more decorous rate, and stared at Pons through the haze of pipe smoke.

"There is a good deal here I do not understand."

Solar Pons smiled quizzically.

"Ah, then we are at one, Parker. It is indeed a fascinating problem. Or rather problems. Though I am on the way to solving one, the major eludes me."

I stared at my companion in astonishment "Indeed, Pons. It sounds remarkable."

"It is remarkable, Parker. And quite unique. And if I do not miss my guess, we have not yet gotten properly into the case."

I fear my mouth must have dropped open, but I did not have time for further talk, as the cab was drawing up in front of a pleasant, red-brick house.

"Here we are, Parker. Sir Clive's private residence."

The handsome mansion before us had tall iron gates separating it from the Inner Circle, and as we walked up the paved path between twin lawns, we could see that another path led away to another iron gate at the rear, which evidently connected with the zoo grounds.

"Grace and favor, Pons." I remarked.

Solar Pons smiled thinly.

"You have hit it exactly, Parker. Such sinecures are apt to lead to jealousy in the somewhat esoteric world of zoology as much as elsewhere."

We had stopped at the imposing porch, where Pons rang the bell, and I stared at him quizzically.

"You are not suggesting that a professional rival is attempting to discredit Sir Clive's direction of the Zoological Gardens?"

"Such things have happened before, Parker. Young Hardcastle may have gotten into deeper waters than he imagines. However, I should be able to set his mind at rest when we meet later this morning. He resumes his duties today, does he not?"

"Thanks to you, Pons. But will it not provide the real criminal — for these are criminal acts going on here — with a golden opportunity?"

"There is method in my madness, Parker."

And with that I had to be content. A parlor maid speedily showed us to a light-paneled, pleasant room on the ground floor, where Sir Clive and Heathfield were already ensconced. The Head Keeper, Stebbins, evidently ill at ease in such surroundings, stood awkwardly on the rug in front of the fire and twisted his peaked cap in his hands.

As we came in, a fourth man I had not seen rose from a large wing chair set next to the fire.

"It is outrageous!" he spluttered. "It is discrediting the Society!"

He paused as he became aware of our approach.

"This is hardly the time or the place for such a discussion, Jefferies," said Sir Clive blandly. "We will continue it some other time, if you please."

The tall man in the dark frock coat and with the white mane of hair that made him look like a musician bowed stiffly.

"This is a colleague of mine on the Council of the Zoological Society," said the President with a thin-lipped smile. "Gordon Jefferies. Mr. Solar Pons. Dr. Lyndon Parker." Jefferies bowed icily, raking us with insolent eyes.

"Your servant, gentlemen. Good-day, Mortimer."

He nodded brusquely and swept out, followed by the ironic eyes of Sir Clive.

"A detestable man, Mr. Pons," he muttered sotto voce. "But brilliant in his field. He has many enemies."

"Indeed," said Solar Pons, with a shrewd look at our host. "So I should imagine if he carries on in such a manner. What was the trouble?"

"My handling of the current crisis in the Society's affairs," said Sir Clive. "Though to tell the truth he is put out because he feels he has not been kept fully informed by the Council. But he has made large donations to funds and so feels he partly owns the Zoological Gardens."

He chuckled dryly and seemed in a jocular mood, despite the obvious altercation that had just taken place. He looked a dapper figure in his well-cut gray suit, and I saw that Pons was studying him carefully beneath his apparently casual manner.

Sir Clive waved us to chairs near the fire, where a silver-plated coffee pot and cups were set out.

"But he is a brilliant person, nevertheless," he continued. "And has made some original contributions to biology. A specialist in the habits of the gorilla."

"Indeed," said Solar Pons again. "I hope he finds their company a little more congenial. He certainly seemed to look with disfavor upon Parker and myself."

Superintendent Heathfield smiled.

"You have not yet heard his fulminations upon the ineptitude of the official police, Mr. Pons."

Solar Pons returned his smile.

"That would have been worth hearing, eh, Parker? Come, Stebbins. Have a cup of coffee and sit down yonder. Sir Clive will not eat you."

"Thank you, Mr. Pons. You are very kind."

The Head Keeper sat down gingerly on a straight-backed chair opposite, though it was evident by the frosty expression on Sir Clive's face that he did not approve of this breach of social etiquette.

When we all had a cup in our hands, Sir Clive pulled around his armchair to favor the fire and said fussily, "We must plan our campaign, Mr. Pons."

"By all means, Sir Clive. I have already traveled far in my conclusions."

Sir Clive raised his eyebrows and blew his cheeks in and out once or twice.

"May we be favored with them, Mr. Pons?"

Solar Pons pulled reflectively at the lobe of his left ear.

"It is a little too early for the present. I would like to hear your own views on the person — or persons — who have been carrying out these outrages at the zoo. Shorn of all emotional bias, of course."

Sir Clive looked sourly at my companion and then around at the faces of Superintendent Heathfield and Stebbins. He shuffled a bundle of papers he held in his hands.

"These are my conclusions, Mr. Pons. The depositions of the staff members concerned in this weird business. Plus my reasoned notes on the matter."

Solar Pons smiled bleakly.

"Save them for the Council and the Society's official journals, Sir Clive. It would take us all day to go through those. Pray be more selective."

Sir Clive's face turned purple and Heathfield had a sudden choking attack, which he cured by an instant draught of coffee. Sir Clive drew his lips into a thin line and glared at me instead.

"Very well, Mr. Pons. A disgruntled former employee of the zoo, perhaps. We have had occasion to discharge three within the past two years."

Solar Pons looked interrogatively at the military figure of the superintendent.

"It is a possibility, Sir Clive," he said reluctantly. "Let us hear what the superintendent has to say."

Heathfield shook his head.

"We have already checked, Mr. Pons. One man has gone abroad; the other two live far out of London."

"They have been questioned?"

"Oh, yes. There is no doubt that they are in the clear."

Solar Pons' piercing eyes rested briefly on Stebbins.

"All the same I should like to have Mr. Stebbins' opinion."

The burly Head Keeper shook his head.

"This business has nothing to do with them, Mr. Pons, they swear. They haven't the character for a business like this. A hasty mind is behind this, Mr. Pons."

"I am inclined to agree with you, Stebbins," said Solar Pons languidly. "What do you think of young Hardcastle, now?"

The Head Keeper shook his head again, more doggedly than before.

"I can't believe it, Mr. Pons. The zoo has never had a more loyal employee among the uniformed staff."

"You make a distinction, then?"

Stebbins looked sharply at Pons.

"I speak as I find, sir. The uniformed staff comes under my jurisdiction. I have no knowledge of the scientific, clerical and other personnel. Even if I had, it would not be my place to criticize."

Sir Clive had little pink spots on his cheeks.

"Well said, Stebbins," said Solar Pons warmly. "I am sure I shall find your advice invaluable."

He looked at his watch.

"If you have no objection, Sir Clive, I would like to see the rest of the cages and houses where the other incidents took place. Then a little lunch would not come amiss."

"Certainly, Mr. Pons. There is an excellent restaurant on the zoo grounds. You would be welcome to partake of my hospitality here. Or the Fellows' Restaurant could be put at your disposal."

"It is too good of you, Sir Clive," said Solar Pons, rising to his feet. "Bat we have already caused considerable disruption in your routine. If Parker has no objection, I would prefer to have lunch at the public restaurant at a time that suits. Will you join us, Superintendent?"

"Certainly, Mr. Pons."

"That is settled, then. Shall we say half-past one? Come, Parker."

And Solar Pons led the way out of the room so swiftly that I was hard put to keep up with him.

7

"Ah, there you are, Hardcastle!"

The shadows had lifted from our client's face, and now he hurried toward us down the length of the Lion House, a slim, fair-haired girl at his heels. It was late afternoon and after an excellent lunch, Pons and I had spent an hour with Heathfield, touring the houses where the other incidents had taken place.

"Allow me to introduce my fiancée, Miss Alice Westover, Mr. Pons."

"Delighted, Miss Westover."

Pons glanced at the girl, and then his gaze rested briefly on the knots of thickly clad people who had gathered in the warmth of the Lion House to see the animals.

"You have a fair crowd for such a day, I see."

"Average, Mr. Pons. The big cats attract the public at almost any time of the year."

"So I should imagine."

Pons looked the girl in the eye.

"What do you think of all this, Miss Westover?"

The girl moved protectively toward the young keeper and linked her arm through his.

"He is certainly innocent, Mr. Pons," she said stoutly.

Solar Pons looked at her reflectively, noting the smart, tailored suit and the chic hat with its gaily colored feathers.

"You are most loyal, Miss Westover. But in any event I do not think there is much doubt of your fiancé's innocence."

"I am glad to hear it from your own lips, Mr. Pons," the girl said gravely.

We had moved unconsciously down the great hall, where the restless denizens continued their tireless pacing, and Pons stared rather pointedly at the girl, I thought. Though Hardcastle was oblivious to my companion's scrutiny, it was not lost upon his companion, who had little points of fire dancing on her cheeks.

"Have you heard anything, Mr. Pons?"

"We progress, Hardcastle, we progress."

"I cannot rest, Mr. Pons, until this stigma is removed from my good name."

"Have patience, Hardcastle. We shall soon be at the root of the matter."

Pons looked up sharply.

"Ah, there is Hodgson. I think he wants you, Hardcastle."

The girl bit her lip and flushed as Hardcastle hurried down the Lion House to where the burly figure of the senior keeper stood. From what I could make out, they seemed to be arguing about something.

"Your fiancé and Hodgson do not get on very well, I think," said Solar Pons shrewdly, his deep-set eyes studying the girl's face.

"I really do not know, Mr. Pons."

"Do you not, Miss Westover?"

I moved away a little awkwardly and stood back a few feet, almost out of earshot, until Pons motioned me across.

"There is nothing private about this, Parker. I wish you to hear."

"As you please, Pons. Though I must confess I am all at sea."

"Nevertheless, Parker, I would prefer you to stay. We may talk unobserved in this corner. Jealousy is a dreadful thing, Miss Westover. It may provoke all sorts of unexpected events. Including violence born of frustrated rage."

The girl's face turned white. She looked over Pons' shoulder toward the far end of the Lion House, where the two keepers were still engrossed in conversation. She turned back to my companion.

"You know something, Mr. Pons?"

"Let us say I suspect something, Miss Westover. Something involving you and Hardcastle and Hodgson. Am I right?"

The girl bit her lip again.

"There was no harm in it, Mr. Pons," she said sullenly.

"Though I do not know how you could have guessed." "Intuition combined with sharp eyesight, Miss Westover.

I have no doubt you saw no harm in it, but great harm has flowed from it."

The girl's eyes were open and tears glimmered on her lashes.

"I don't know what you are talking about, Mr. Pons." Solar Pons shook his head.

"That is certainly true, my dear young lady. But I advise you to break off the association without delay, as the man concerned will shortly be in considerable trouble."

He put his fingers to his lips.

"Your fiancé is coming back, Miss Westover. Absolute discretion?"

The girl nodded, her face still white.

"Absolute discretion, Mr. Pons. And thank you." Solar Pons smiled thinly.

"Learn to profit by the experience, Miss Westover. I am an excellent judge of human nature, and you will not do better than young Hardcastle."

And saluting the pair of them, for Hardcastle had now come up with us, he moved away toward the entrance of the Lion House. As soon as we were out of earshot, I caught him by the arm.

"What on earth was all that about, Pons?"

"Just a little well-meant advice, Parker. I think the young lady will have profited by the lesson."

"I wish I knew what you were talking about, Pons," I grumbled.

"Patience, Parker, patience. All will be explained in due course. But I must confess that one thing still puzzles me. I now have two distinct strands but no possible motive for the second."

Solar Pons paused and looked at my thunderstruck face before bursting into laughter.

"Really, Parker, your features present an indescribable picture! But it is almost dusk. I suggest we use the passes with which Sir Clive has furnished us and remain on the grounds until after dark. Let us just give it an hour. Perhaps we can spend the time in one of the heated tropical houses because the night promises to be cold."

We were outside now and the air was indeed biting. "But what on earth are we going to do, Pons?"

My companion stared at me, his lean, feral features alight with excitement.

"I have the feeling that something that should have happened has not yet happened. Call it a sixth sense, if you will. But I am rarely wrong. A number of incidents have occurred, some trivial, some serious. In my opinion they are but stage dressing for something else."

My puzzlement must have been evident on my features, for Pons slowed his walk and looked at me with wry affection.

"My dear Parker, I do not know what will happen or where danger will strike. The zoo grounds are large and extensive, the houses and animal enclosures numerous and complicated. But I should feel more at ease if you would stay with me for an hour or two."

"Certainly, Pons," said I. "But if we are going to hang about in the cold, I suggest we-first go to the restaurant or the Fellows' dining room. There is an excellent bar there, and I have a first-rate prescription for keeping out the cold."

Solar Pons chuckled.

"There are unsuspected depths to you, Parker. Sometimes it is difficult to remember you are a physician."

And with which sardonic comment he set off at a brisk pace across the grounds.

8

Mist swirled silently in the darkness and, far off, a faint gas lamp sent out a drowning beam of light toward us. The coughing roar of a lion echoed, melancholy and remote across the park, and left a somber reflection in my heart. I shifted my feet and stamped them cautiously, conscious of Pons' disapproving face beside me in the gloom. We stood in the deep porch of one of the mammal houses and rested briefly. We had been walking around the Zoological Gardens for an hour, but it seemed as though we had covered miles. I was about to venture an observation, when Pons' hand was upon my arm and I heard the hissed intake of his breath.

A moment later I caught the sound that his sharp ears had already heard; the agitated beat of a man's feet running through the white blanket. It was far off, and for a moment I could not place the direction. Then we both caught the urgent note of the voice. There was fear and panic in it as it called, "Murder! Police!"

Pons gave a muffled exclamation.

"We are too late, Parker! I blame myself for this. As quick as you can."

He was already disappearing into the fog, and I had diffuculty in keeping his tall, lean figure in sight. He moved fast, despite the whiteness that hemmed us in, and his sharp eyes unerringly guided us around obstructions and kept us in the right direction.

Within two minutes we could hear the muffled sound of more footsteps in response to urgent calls, and figures were all around us. A police officer lurched into me, his bull's-eye lantern making a pale glow, and recoiled with an apology.

"Dr. Parker isn't it? Up near the next entrance, sir."

When Pons and I arrived, there was a small knot of people, and the purposeful figure of Superintendent Heathfield detached itself from the mêlée.

"Good to see you both, Mr. Pons. It is fatal this time, I am afraid. In the gorilla enclosure."

Solar Pons nodded, his face impassive and dream-like in the light of the lanterns.

"That has solved one mystery, Superintendent."

The words were spoken almost to himself, and I saw the police officer look at him with a start. With the frightened attendant who had given the alarm leading the way, we were soon at the scene of the tragedy. It had taken place in a large wood and cement building that housed the greater primates. The main door had been broken, the glass panel shattered.

The leading attendants and the uniformed police officers were pressing inside, when Pons stopped them with a sudden exclamation.

"Hello! This is curious indeed, Parker. The glass has been broken from inside."

Heathfield and _I exchanged puzzled glances. Pons had stooped to examine the shattered fragments of glass that lay on the cement walk outside the entrance.

"That is so, Mr. Pons. Why on earth would anyone want to break out?"

Solar Pons smiled an enigmatic smile.

"Think about it, my dear fellow. It leads to one inescapable conclusion."

"Perhaps, Pons," I said shortly. "But can we not leave this until later? It is cold out here, and if murder has been done inside.

"You are quite right, Parker. Lead on, Superintendent."

I hurried in the wake of my companions, and in a few moments more we came upon one of the most bizarre and horrific scenes I had ever encountered either during my years with Pons or within my medical experience.

The house was divided into two parts with a broad cement aisle separating the heated enclosures on either side. Chimpanzees, gibbons and large apes sat sullenly in their respective cages, blinking in the dim electric light, as though they had been awakened from sleep. There was a welcome warmth in here, and I guessed that the stout metal walls at the rear of the cages, each complete with sliding door, gave way to roomy enclosures in the open air, which the animals occupied in summer.

The attendant who had raised the alarm was standing by a large, thickly barred enclosure at the far end of the house; a dim form loomed gigantically within and made shuffling noises in the deep straw and other litter that covered the floor. A constable near me shone his electric lantern within the bars and disclosed a dark-clad human figure, which lay at a grotesque angle. Motionless and rigid, it was a foot or two from the indistinct shape.

Then the lantern beam moved upward, and I could not repress a shudder as its rays caught the red-rimmed eyes, the crooked teeth, and the black, bestial muzzle. The huge gorilla stared unwinkingly at the spectators beyond the bars, while its claws continued to make shuffling noises in the straw. I pulled my eyes reluctantly away from that terrific spectacle.

"You are the expert, Parker," said Pons coolly. "Pray give us your opinion."

I looked again at the form sprawled face down, its features invisible in the littered straw.

"He is undoubtedly dead, Pons," I said. "The angle of the head indicates that immediately. His neck has been broken."

"Has it not. I had come to roughly the same conclusion myself, but I am glad to have your professional opinion. Under the circumstances it is perhaps just as well, as it will undoubtedly take some little time to extricate the body."

He glanced up at the white plaque that was attached to the wall near the cage.

"Boris. Male Gorilla. Hmm. What do you make of it, Superintendent?"

"I would not like to express an ad hoc opinion, Mr. Pons, but it certainly looks as though the intruder gained entrance to the beast's cage with the intention of letting it loose. We may have inadvertently discovered the phantom."

"It could be so," said Solar Pons carelessly. "But I have grave doubts."

He indicated the sliding bolt on the door. The padlock and chain lay on the floor but the bolt had been fastened.

"It is hardly likely that he would secure the door behind him under those circumstances. And I understood the gorilla was a vegetarian."

"That is correct, sir," the attendant volunteered. "Can't understand it. Boris is as gentle as a lamb."

"Indeed," said Solar Pons, looking thoughtfully at the great beast, whose eyes stared so soulfully into our own.

"It is a pity he cannot talk, Parker. There is certainly great intelligence there. I could almost swear that he is as puzzled as yourself as to how a corpse came into his cage."

Solar Pons gazed at the attendant from the Gorilla House for a long moment.

"Why did you call out 'Murder,' just now?"

The man looked startled.

"The person in the cage was obviously dead, sir. His neck's all twisted. I said the first thing that came into my head. And I wanted to get help urgently."

"I see. But why could it not have been an accident?" The man shook his head stubbornly.

"Not an accident, sir. No one in his senses would go into that cage."

"So you do not think the gorilla killed him?"

"No, sir. I've been in charge of Boris for fifteen years. He's gentle and even tempered, and there are several of us can go into his cage without any trouble."

"That is interesting."

Solar Pons turned back to the bars as the keeper approached the door. We stood clear as he slid back the bolt and spoke to the gorilla in a low, crooning tone. The great shambling form backed away. The attendant bent gently and seized the figure of the fallen man by the foot nearest the door. He dragged the body slowly toward us. I bent to aid him. With the help of a police officer, we pulled the body out and the attendant shut the door.

I bent and turned the figure in the frock coat over. I could not resist a gasp of surprise. We all stood staring down at the dead face of Gordon Jefferies, while a sudden clamor of animal noise, savage and muted, swept across- the park from outside. Solar Pons looked at Superintendent Heathfield somberly.

"An expert on gorillas, I believe. Murder it is."

9

Sir Clive's face was ashen and distorted with anger.

"This is appalling, Superintendent. I demand that the culprit be brought to book immediately."

"We are doing our best, Sir Clive."

"It is not good enough, Superintendent. Really, Mr. Pons."

Solar Pons paused in the act of lighting his pipe, the ruddy glow from the bowl stippling his lean, ascetic face with little points of fire. He smiled disarmingly.

"Do not let me interrupt you, Sir Clive. But it is difficult to see what the London Police could have done to prevent this. It was carefully planned."

"What?"

Sir Clive's eyes were round and he looked at my companion suspiciously. We were sitting in Sir Clive's office and around the desk. In addition to Stebbins, the Head Keeper, were our client, Hardcastle; Hodgson; the secretary, Conrad Foster; and several other senior keepers. In the background were two grave-faced, soberly dressed gentlemen, fellow members of Sir Clive's on the Council of the Zoological Society; and several high-ranking plainclothes men of the Criminal Investigation Department, who were sitting in on the conference.

It was nine o'clock in the evening and, despite the refreshment we had taken in the Fellows' Restaurant, I was feeling tired and hungry. Oily fog swirled at the windows of the large office, and the air was blue with stale tobacco smoke. The inquiry had gone on for nearly two hours but so far as I could see, the protagonists were no closer to any conclusions regarding the murder of Gordon Jefferies.

Except Pons, of course. He had listened quietly to the argument and had so far not ventured an opinion. Now he drew steadily on his pipe, until it was burning to his satisfaction and tented his long, thin fingers together in front of him.

"Would you mind explaining, Mr. Pons?"

Sir Clive's eyes were full of curiosity.

"In due course, sir. I say it was carefully planned. The murderer cunningly took advantage of fortuitous circumstances. One might say that the occasion was tailor-made. And the popular press reports of a phantom in the zoo could not have suited him better."

There was an ugly silence, and I could see the uniformed attendants looking uneasily at one another.

"I do not follow you, Mr. Pons."

It was Superintendent Heathfield on this occasion. Solar Pons shrugged his thin shoulders.

"I hope to name the murderer for you before the evening is out, Superintendent. It is only a question of time."

"Pons!" I exclaimed. "You do not mean to say you know his name?"

"I have strong suspicions. Parker. It is one thing to theorize; another to prove beyond a conclusive doubt."

There was an air of electric tension in the room now. Sir Clive shifted uncomfortably in his chair and sought support from his Council colleagues in the back row. Before he could speak again, Solar Pons sat up in his chair next to Sir Clive's desk and nodded affably over toward Hardcastle.

"Perhaps you would care to tell Sir Clive and the assembled company exactly how you broke into the cages and wrought your trail of miscnief?"

Hardcastle was on his feet, his face working.

"I am innocent, Mr. Pons," he stammered.

"Tut," said Solar Pons calmly. "Pray sit down. We do not need such exhibitions. I was referring to friend Hodgson there behind you."

I stared in amazement at the burly figure of the keeper of the Lion House, who seemed visibly to crumble. He started up, guilt evident upon his face.

"I do not know what you are talking about, Mr. Pons!" "I think you do. Hodgson. Red paint is very difficult to remove from the fingernails. I noticed specks of it beneath your nails when I spoke to you at the Lion House this afternoon. I made it my business to inquire of the zoo staff. No red paint has been used on the animal cages lately. Except for the vandal who daubed the mammal houses.

And placed the materials in the locker of Hardcastle here." Superintendent Heathfield was on his feet, his face stern. "Is this true, Hodgson?"

The big keeper had collapsed now; he sat with his head in his hands. Then he raised an ashen face to stare at Pons. "I admit it, Mr. Pons," he said. "But murder, no."

"We shall see," said Solar Pons coldly.

"But what possible motive could he have, Pons?" I asked.

"Jealousy," said Solar Pons across the rising murmur of voices wlthin the room. "Plain, ordinary jealousy. I am sorry to say it, Hardcastle, but Hodgson was jealous of your success with Miss Westover."

"Mr. Pons!"

There was dismay on the young man's face.

"My attention was directed to it quite accidentally. When I asked Hodgson to open his locker, he had a photograph there that fell to the ground. I saw the young lady's face quite clearly when I picked it up. When you introduced me to your fiancée later, I saw quite plainly it was she. A few veiled questions and her obvious confusion soon made me see how the land lay. Hodgson hoped to secure your dismissal and secure the young lady's affections for himself, unless I am very mucn mistaken."

Hardcastle swore and plunged toward Hodgson, but the plainclothes officers were too quick for him and interposed themselves. Handcuffs flashed and the burly keeper was securely pinioned.

"There will be time enough for recriminations later," said Solar Pons mildly. "Am I not right, Hodgson?"

"Yes, sir," said the big keeper sullenly. "I broke into the cages, let the animals loose and did that damage. I put the things in Hardcastle's locker and hoped to make him lose his job. It was my feelings for the young lady that made me do it. I'm sorry now. We'd been out a few times and then she threw me over for Hardcastle. I hoped to get her back. And I'd been out with her a few times since. My pay was better than his, you see, and I had good prospects. But I know nothing about the murder of Mr. Jefferies."

"That remains to be seen," said Superintendent Heathfield calmly.

He turned to my companion.

"I am in your debt, Mr. Pons."

"Think nothing of it, Superintendent," said Solar Pons, a strange look in his eyes. "My reward lies in clearing Hardcastle here from all stigma."

"Take Hodgson away. We will finish questioning him at the Yard."

Heathfield bustled forward and the groups seated around the desk broke up. Sir Clive came forward and pumped Pons by the hand.

"A remarkable performance, my dear sir. I am most grateful."

"It was nothing, Sir Clive."

Pons hastily excused himself, and we strode back down the staircase and into the fog.

"There are one or two points I don't quite understand, Pons."

To my astonishment Solar Pons put his hand over my mouth and drew me into the deep shadow of one of the mammal houses.

"Not a word, Parker. And pray do not be idiotic. The case is far from over. We must secure our man while he is still off balance. Follow me and be careful in this fog."

And before I had time to convey my astonishment and chagrin, my companion was dragging me through the white blanket until my sense of direction was entirely lost.

10

Presently the dark, skeletal bars of an iron gate loomed up in the mist. It was unlocked and Pons pushed it back to enable us to slip through, carefully closing it behind us. He led me unerringly down a flagged path toward the massive structure of- a large mansion from which shaded lights glowed.

"What on earth, Pons? I began. "This is Sir Clive's residence…"

"I am well aware of that, Parker," Solar Pons whispered. "Now, if I am not much mistaken, the study should be here."

He cast about him, looking intently at marks at the edge of the grass. Apparently satisfied, he tiptoed across the lawn toward French windows, which, to judge from the darkness within, denoted an unoccupied room. I had no choice but to accompany him, but I was filled with horror when Pons produced a metal instrument from his pocket and calmly inserted it into the lock.

"You are surely not going to break in, Pons?"

"It is quite illegal, Parker, but the short answer is yes," Pons replied imperturbably. "This is one advantage we have over Scotland Yard, Parker. They do not normally break into citizens' private houses. With the result that some damnable villains are allowed to go free."

"But what do you expect to find, Pons?"

"Nothing, Parker, unless I can deal with this lock. Let us hope there are no bolts, or I shall have to risk smashing a pane."

There was a sudden click as he spoke, and he gave a soft exclamation of satisfaction. One wing of the door was open, and he beckoned me to follow as he eased himself slowly through into the darkness. I followed, shutting the door quietly behind me, and was brought up against thick velvet curtains. Pons cautiously slid them back a few inches, and I could see by the soft glow of a dying log fire that we were within a comfortably furnished study.

"What are we going to do, Pons?"

"Just wait patiently, Parker. Our man will not be long. We may catch him off guard. Unless I miss my guess, he has not yet finished disposing of the evidence. I have no doubt he has already used these windows tonight."

"I am completely lost, Pons. I thought that Hodgson…"

"Hush, Parker."

Solar Pons' strong grip made me wince as he caught my arm. I then heard the crisp sound of footsteps along the flagged walk of the garden outside. A minute or so passed, and the crash of the front door was followed by muffled voices. Pons put his finger to his lips and pulled the curtains back across the alcove in which we were standing.

We had not long to wait. Hardly had we concealed ourselves before there was the grate of a key in the lock of the study door and the room was flooded with light. The golden glow penetrated the curtains, enabling me to see that Pons had his eye fastened to a faint crack through which he surveyed the room. I passed the time with what patience I could muster, though I must confess that the police and the laws of private property were much in my mind.

I joined Pons at his urgent motioning and saw what had attracted his attention. Putting my eye to the gap in the curtains, which Pons held closed with his right hand, I could see the portly form of Sir Clive. He was down on his knees by a large desk, examining the floor. Then he got up and crossed over to a small safe set into the fireplace wall. He took from it a bundle of documents and placed them on the desk. Then he went back into the middle of the room in a listening attitude.

He turned to the fireplace and picked up a poker. He sifted the dying fire and I heard a muffled exclamation. He went over to a scuttle at the side of the hearth, apparently finding it empty.

"We are in luck, Parker," Pons breathed in my ear.

Sir Clive hesitated a moment longer, glanced at the documents on the desk and then picked up the scuttle. He passed out of my line of vision and I heard the sound of the catch as the door was opened. The key sounded again as he locked it from the other side and his footsteps died away.

"Excellent, Parker," Solar Pons chuckled. "There will never be a better opportunity."

He ran across the room without any attempt at concealment and I followed with considerable misgiving. Pons was already down on his hands and knees, examining the floor with his lens.

"He will need a cloth too," he murmured.

"What exactly is happening, Pons?"

"Sir Clive is about to burn these letters. We must just glance at them, for the motive is not yet clear to me."

He picked them up, his face turning grave as he leafed through them. He replaced them on the desk.

"Poor devil."

He stood in thought for a moment.

"Blackmail is one of the vilest of crimes, Parker, and I am not so sure the punishment was not justified in this case. But murder is frowned on by the authorities, and we must not be deflected from our purpose."

And he stood calmly by the mantelpiece, lighting his pipe and staring down at the almost extinguished `fire until footsteps again sounded on the parquet of the hall outside. We were still standing like that when Sir Clive entered, locked the door behind him and advanced toward the fireplace, bearing fresh billets of wood in his scuttle. There was a tremendous clatter as he dropped it, the iron bucket overturning and scattering the wood about the polished floor. He stood before us with a deathly face, guilt staring from every lineament of his features.

"Mr. Pons!" he cried in a croaking voice, all the arrogance gone from his tones. "What does this mean?"

"It means, Sir Clive, that all is known," said Solar Pons equably, lighting his pipe and puffing blue columns of smoke toward the carved ceiling, the firelight glowing on his lean, ascetic features.

If the President's face had been haggard before, the change in it was so dramatic that I feared he might have a stroke. He made a choking noise, and I hurried forward to assist him to a chair by the fire. I loosened his collar and handed him a glass of brandy, which Pons poured from a decanter on the desk.

"I am sorry to subject you to this, Sir Clive," said Pons, when the recumbent man's face had assumed a healthier color. "But there was no other way."

Sir Clive turned burning eyes to my companion.

"How did you know, Mr. Pons?"

"There were two distinct patterns to the strange events at the Zoological Gardens. One set was distinctly trivial, while the others were serious. One featured senseless damage: the opening of small cages containing harmless animals, the daubing of walls with paint. The others were grave, letting out lethal animals such as polar bears and tigers. The press immediately seized upon these events and shouted that a phantom was at work. The idea was nonsense, of course, but as soon as I was called in by Hardcastle, my original impressions formed by the newspaper reports were reinforced."

Solar Pons paused and blew a cloud of aromatic blue smoke toward the ceiling as he gazed sternly downward at the deflated figure of Sir Clive.

"In all the trivial cases, where the person responsible could have simply opened catches or bolts, the doors of the cages had been smashed. Yet in the cases of the larger animals, where there were heavy doors and stout padlocks, the intruder had not smashed them, but instead had used a key, which argued inside knowledge."

"It is interesting, Pons, but I do not quite see…" I began.

Solar Pons transfixed me with a look.

"It was elementary, my dear Parker. Two different people were the authors of the events. Hodgson, motivated by revenge, was determined to throw suspicion on his rival, young Hardcastle, for the affections of Miss Westover. That is understandable, if contemptible. But Hodgson, though unbalanced by jealousy, was conditioned by training and respect for his calling. He would not endanger human life in his scheme to discredit his rival. And though he committed damage it was extremely trivial. Sir Clive had access to all the keys or could have had them copied, so he avoided the noise that would have been made late at night by smashing the heavy locks. It was as simple as that. That was one of the striking differences, and I at once concluded there were two strands to the affair. The mystery and the ensuing publicity were a godsend to Sir Clive. He had long been blackmailed by Jefferies, as is made clear by the correspondence I have read, and had been bled white. The so-called phantom's activities provided him with an excellent opportunity, so a few weeks ago he began his own series of atrocities, which were of a far more serious kind; ranging from the freeing of dangerous spiders to the tigress and polar bear. They had to be dangerous creatures to make the death of Jefferies more plausible."

Sir Clive passed a handkerchief across his streaming face with shaking fingers.

"You are right, Mr. Pons," he said. "I must have been mad, but you cannot judge me unless you know the full circumstances."

"I am not presuming to judge you, Sir Clive," said Solar Pons, rubbing his chin. "That is not my function, and I leave it to those better qualified."

"Jefferies has had thousands from me," said Sir Clive wearily. "We had been rivals for years. And the damnable thing is that he used much of the money to build new facilities at the zoo and so gain fresh kudos for his own name."

He turned burning eyes on my companion.

"How on earth did you know, Mr. Pons?"

Solar Pons shook his head.

"It was mere suspicion at first, but it strengthened as my investigations continued. As I have said, the pattern was so different in the two sets of incidents. I have already explained how I came to suspect Hodgson and Miss Westover confirmed the matter. But I very soon realized that the person who had been loosing the larger mammals had access to a large portion of the zoo. Furthermore, no one suspicious had been seen either in or just outside the grounds. Therefore the miscreant had to be someone who could move about the zoo, particularly at night, without attracting suspicion. A member of the staff or a high-ranking official. When I saw that your house adjoined the grounds and that a gate gave access to the zoo premises, my suspicions crystallized."

"So that was why you said something further might happen, Pons!" I exclaimed.

Solar Pons nodded.

"But even I did not realize what a tragic turn events would take. I had to make sure. Hodgson was nothing. I could have exposed him at any time. What I wanted to learn was why the more serious incidents were taking place. Well, we have found out."

He looked at the smoldering remnants of the fire in the grate. his deep-set eyes seeming to gaze far beyond them.

^"The pattern was repeated in the near-tragic incident of the polar bear. I retrieved from its claws a length of gray thread."

He produced the small transparent paper envelope from his pocket as he spoke.

"I immediately identified it as coming from a suit of good material. When I saw that Sir Clive wore a grey suit today and that a button was missing from the tnree on his right sleeve, I knew that he had had a narrow escape when releasing the beast from the enclosure. And I also knew that I had my man, though I did not then know he was a potential murderer. The keepers wore coarse blue uniforms and the threads did not match."

He picked up the limp arm of the recumbent President and held up his sleeve for me to see. There was a button missing, and I noticed immediately that the thread was a perfect match to that on the director's coat. Sir Clive was breathing stertorously, and he struggled into a more erect position.

"I submit that Jefferies called here tonight, probably for another payment or perhaps to hand over some letters," Pons went on. "You had already prepared the ground, and you struck him on the neck with that heavy iron poker in the fireplace, when his back was turned. It was a foggy evening when you were unlikely to be seen, and it was this which prompted you to make the appointment. When you had killed your tormentor, you dragged him out through the French windows, with the study in darkness, of course, and down the path into the zoo grounds. The public had long gone, and there would be very few staff members about on such a night. You counted on that."

"You are a devil, Mr. Pons," said Sir Clive softly, his eyes never leaving Pons' face.

"Hardly, Sir Clive. Merely a person devoted to justice. I could not fail to see the heel marks of your victim in the grass of the lawn. Though no doubt they will be gone by morning if there is rain. And in any case, who would be able to see them in the current foggy weather?"

"But how would Sir Clive get the body to the gorilla house, Pons?" I asked.

Solar Pons shrugged his lean shoulders.

"That was the easiest part, Parker. Probably one of the keepers' wheelbarrows. It would have taken only a moment to have tipped Jefferies in. I noticed two barrows in the gorilla house. Apart from that, the gorilla is a vegetarian. And Jefferies was an expert on them. Sir Clive used a key again on this occasion, as he needed to be quick — and quiet. And then he smashed the glass on his way out to attract attention to the murder, doing it from the wrong side in the stress of the moment."

"You are right, Mr. Pons," said Sir Clive, his eyes still open and staring.

"But you had noticed, as did I, that Jefferies had been bleeding slightly from the mouth," Pons continued. "You found, as I have already ascertained, that there were flecks of blood on the study floor. You wished to burn the documents on the desk there, but there was no wood. And you also needed a cloth. You went out for both, which gave me an opportunity to read some of the letters."

Sir Clive sat now with his head in his hands, his heavy breathing the only sign of life.

"There is just one flaw, Pons," I said. "Sir Clive's servants would know Jefferies had been here. They would have told the police tomorrow."

"Certainly, Parker. But I have no doubt Sir Clive would have mentioned it himself. But Mr. Jefferies would have left a good while before his body was found. Sir Clive would not know whether he had used the side gate into the zoo or not. And in any event, I have no doubt that he would have let Jefferies out when none of the servants were about. And have made sure to have wished him good night as loudly as possible."

"You think of everything, Pons."

"On the contrary, Parker, it is Sir Clive who has given this matter much thought. I am merely the humble instrument of justice."

"Justice, Mr. Pons? You call it justice?"

Sir Clive sat up and removed his hands from his face. He looked at us bitterly.

"Yes, Mr. Pons, I did all those things. You are correct in every respect. But if ever a man deserved to die, it was Jefferies. A fouler creature never walked in shoe leather. I am not sorry he is dead. I should have done it sooner. But I want you to believe that I would never have let Hodgson take the blame for my crime."

"I have no doubt of that, Sir Clive," said Pons steadily. "And if I know my man, Superintendent Heathfield will have discovered his innocence already."

Sir Clive stood up, his features working.

"Would you give me a quarter of an hour, Mr. Pons? I wish to take care of some things in the next room yonder." Solar Pons nodded, his manner abstracted.

"Certainly, Sir Clive."

We waited as his footsteps died out across the parquet. My companion stared at me somberly.

"It is a tragic business, Parker."

He indicated the letters on the table.

"A man's sexual aberrations are his own problem. In my view there is no crime so long as he does not corrupt the young. Sir Clive's peculiarities had brought him within the scope of the blackmailer, just as thousands have been in the past and many more will be in the future."

"Good heavens, Pons, I did not realize…"

Solar Pons smiled thinly. He went over to the desk and scooped up the letters. He placed them in the hearth, brought some logs over and stirred the embers into a blaze. Within a few minutes there was nothing but a handful of gray ashes in the fireplace.

"That will take care of an ugly scandal, Parker. The letters from Jefferies that I have retained will provide the police with enough motive, I think."

He paused as there came the muffled crack of an explosion. I was already rushing toward the door when Solar Pons stopped me.

"It is too late, Parker. I will not say that justice has been done, but the law will be satisfied. It is an imperfect world, and we shall have to be content and let it rest there."

He stood in silence for a moment, putting the documents into his pocket, listening to the noise of hurrying footsteps in the house. Then he walked slowly toward the door of the room in which Sir Clive had just taken his life.