The Ponson Case. Dolores Gordon-Smith
‘There’s not much I can tell you, I’m afraid,’ Austin answered, and then he repeated almost word for word the statement he had made to the sergeant. He spoke calmly, but the Inspector could see that he was ill at ease.
‘It seemed to my people,’ went on Tanner, ‘that a good deal hinged on the motive Sir William had for taking out the boat. You cannot form any theory about that?’
‘None whatever. It was the last thing I should have expected him to do.’
‘There is no one whom he might have wished to visit?’
‘The butler suggested that,’ and Austin mentioned Dr Graham. ‘But,’ he ended up, ‘we could find nothing to bear out that theory.’
‘Can you tell me if Sir William had anything on his mind recently?’
Austin hesitated and moved uneasily.
‘No,’ he said, ‘not to my knowledge.’ But his voice changed, and the Inspector felt he was not speaking the truth.
‘When did you see him last, Mr Ponson?’
‘On Sunday. I dined here and spent the evening.’
‘And you noticed nothing unusual in his manner then?’
‘Nothing.’
‘You will be wondering what is the point of all these questions. I am sorry to tell you, Mr Ponson, that my superiors have got an exceedingly unpleasant suspicion into their minds. I hardly like to mention it to you.’
The Inspector paused, watching the other keenly. He was evidently on tenterhooks. Seemingly unable to remain quiet, he threw his cigarette away, and then with quick, jerky movements lit another. But he controlled himself and spoke calmly.
‘Yes? What do they think?’
‘They are not satisfied,’ went on Tanner, slowly watching all the time the effect of his words, ‘that the affair was an accident at all.’
Austin paled still further and tiny drops of sweat appeared on his forehead.
‘In the Lord’s name,’ he cried hoarsely, ‘what do you mean?
‘They fear suicide, Mr Ponson.’
‘Suicide?’ There was horror in the man’s eyes, but to the Inspector there was relief also. ‘What infernal drivel! They did not know my father.’
‘That is so, of course, sir. I’m only telling you what the Chief said. That’s the reason they postponed the inquest, and that’s the reason I was sent down.’
‘I tell you, Inspector, the thing’s absurd. Ask anybody that knew him. They will all tell you the same thing.’
‘I dare say, sir, and probably correctly. But might I ask you when you go home to turn the matter over in your mind, and if you think of anything bearing on it to let me know?’
‘Of course,’ assented Austin, and the relief in his manner was now unmistakable.
There’s just one other point,’ Tanner continued. ‘I have to ask a question I deeply regret, but I can only assure you it is one asked invariably, and as a matter of routine in such cases. I trust you will not mind. It is this. Will you please let me have a statement of your own movements on last Wednesday night?’
Austin Ponson threw up his hands.
‘I have been afraid of that question, Inspector, ever since I first heard the news, and now you’ve asked it, by Jove, I’m glad! I have been trying to make up my mind to tell the police since—since it happened, and it’ll be a huge relief to do so now. I tell you, Inspector, I’ve been actually afraid when I thought of it. Here goes for the whole thing.’
He spoke with excitement, but soon calmed down and went on in ordinary tones.
‘On Wednesday night I was the victim of what I then thought was a stupid and rather unkind hoax, but what since this affair I have looked on in a more sinister light. At the same time I confess I am entirely puzzled as to its meaning. In order that you may understand it I must tell you a few facts about myself.
‘I have lived, as you perhaps know, alone in Halford for several years. I have some private means, and I pass my time in research work in connection with certain disease-carrying insects, besides writing on scientific and social subjects. Recently I became deeply attached to a young lady living close by—a Miss Lois Drew—and on last Saturday I put fate to the test, and asked her to marry me. She consented, but wished our engagement kept a secret for a few days. I only mention her name to you, Inspector, on her own authority, indeed at her express direction, but at the same time I trust you will respect my confidence in the matter.’
Tanner bowed without speaking.
‘About six o’clock on Wednesday evening, my butler handed me a note. He had found it, as I afterwards learnt, in the letter box of the hall door, and as it had not come through the post, it must have been delivered by private messenger. But there had been no ring, nor had he seen anyone approaching the house.
‘The note was in Miss Drew’s handwriting, and it said that she and her sister were going that evening to call on a Mrs Franklyn, who lived a mile or more from the town along the London road. They would be returning about nine, and if I Iiked to take a boat down to the Old Ferry and wait for them there, I could row them home.
‘I need hardly say I was delighted, and I went to the Club to get a boat, intending to be down at the Old Ferry in good time. But there was a delay in getting the boat I wanted, and in spite of rowing hard it was a little past the hour when I reached the place. There was no one there, but I had not waited more than five or ten minutes when a girl came walking up. It was getting dusk, and I thought at first it was Miss Drew’s sister, but when she got nearer I saw she was a stranger. She was below medium height, dark, and badly dressed, with a thin muffler up round her face, as if she had toothache. I could not see her features distinctly, though I think I should know her again. She asked me if I was Mr Austin Ponson.
‘“I am Mrs Franklyn’s housemaid,” she said, “and I was sent to give you this note.”
‘It was a pencil scrawl from Miss Drew, saying that she and her sister had gone with Tom and Evelyn Franklyn, the two younger members of the family, to the Abbey, where the ghost was reported to be abroad. I was to follow, and the girl, Mrs Franklyn’s housemaid, would watch the boat till we returned.
‘The Abbey, I should explain, is an old ruin, a little farther away than Mrs Franklyn’s house—about two miles from the town. It is reached by a narrow and little used path from the London road, perhaps half a mile or less long. According to the local tradition it is haunted, and every now and then the ghost is supposed to walk. I don’t know the exact details of the superstition, but as the place is interesting, and the walk there pleasant enough, to look for the ghost is often made the joking excuse for paying the old place an evening visit.
‘“You will watch the boat till I come back?” I said to the maid, and she answered:
‘“Yes sir, Mrs Franklyn told me so.”
‘I set off to walk the mile or more to the Abbey, reaching it in about twenty minutes. I was a little surprised by the whole business, for though the Abbey would have been a likely enough walk for Miss Drew and the others to take under ordinary circumstances, the path that night was a good deal wetter and muddier than I thought any of the ladies would have cared for. As you know, the weather only cleared up that morning after a long spell of rain. However, I pressed on till I reached the Abbey. Inspector, there was no one there!
‘I searched the whole place, and called aloud, but not a creature did I find. Quite mystified, and a good deal annoyed, I turned and hurried back.
‘“I have been hoaxed by those four,” I thought, and I decided to go round to the Franklyns’ and enjoy the joke with them. But when I reached the house it was in darkness, and the door was shut. I knocked, and rang, and walked round