THE ADVENTURE OF THE LOST HOLIDAY
A Solar Pons story
By August Derleth
(From Regarding Sherlock Holmes: The Adventures of Solar Pons, Copyright 1945 by August Derleth)
Version 1.0 - February 23, 2002


AS I CAME from my bath that evening, I saw my friend Solar Pons bent attentively at the wireless. He had evidently just come in, and gone directly over to listen to the news, for he had not yet removed his Inverness. He turned, saw me, and smiled, with a glint of uncommon concentration in his eyes.
The broadcast of the news was just ending. I heard only a reference to Lord Penryn and a cancelled holiday in the south of France before Pons turned the wireless off, slipped from his Inverness and his coat, and got into his smoking-jacket. He came over and sat down beside the table, where he had left his notes when he went out that afternoon.

"Ah, you look fresh and scrubbed, Parker. You did not hear the broadcast, then?"

"No."

"Lord Penryn's holiday in the south of France has been cancelled."

"That is probably not the first time such a thing has happened."

"Very likely not. Yet, it is interesting to reflect that only three days ago, when Lord Penryn's holiday was first announced, it was given out that this was his first in two years. Now suddenly we find it cancelled. It does not seem strange to you that it is so?"

"Not at all."

"Let me put it another way: it does not seem strange to you that the holiday of the Secretary for European Affairs should be cancelled at a time when there are going forward negotiations of great importance between the governments of England and France? A holiday, moreover, in a country which is a party to these negotiations--the party of the second part."

"Apart from involving it a little, it does not seem to change the aspect of the matter."

"Ah, Parker--and after ten years here,--more than ten years!" He shook his head with a faint smile.

I was nettled. "Suppose you interpret it for me!"

"I submit that Lord Penryn's trip to France was not to be a holiday at all, but a journey of state; I submit, moreover, that the negotiations currently going on between emissaries of the two governments have struck some kind of snag which makes the proposed journey by the Secretary for European Affairs unnecessary or futile."

"My dear Pons!"

"No, it is nothing so simple as a mere guess, believe me, Parker. It is widely enough known that the Secretary for European Affairs takes the shooting every year in Scotland, that his sole holiday outside of England took place seven years ago when he had a fortnight in the Alps. This fanfare about his holiday in France has more behind it than it would appear to have."

"Well, I shall have to take your word for it-unless the Foreign Office might perhaps be good enough to settle the matter, which is hardly likely."

"We shall see," retorted Pons, and bent to his notes.

It was then nine in the evening. Within half an hour the matter of Lord Penryn's lost holiday was destined to be brought once more to our attention by one of the most august personages ever to enter our modest lodgings. He did not ring the bell; he entered the building, mounted the stairs directly to our quarters, as if he were personally familiar with our habits, and knocked on the door, a subdued, but nevertheless staccato knock without a note of hesitation in it.

Pons had heard the outer door open, and had listened to the steps on the stairs. "A portly gentleman, carrying a cane, on a mission of secrecy," he observed tranquilly. "Do open the door to him, Parker."
I rose and opened the door to admit our visitor.

Pons came to his feet behind me. "The Right Honorable Sackville Somerset!" he exclaimed. "You have come about Lord Penryn."

The Prime minister started. "You know?"

"Pray do not be alarmed. I am merely making an exercise in deduction. Will you be seated, sir?"

"Mr. Pons, we have little time to waste. If you are free to come with me, my car is outside, I can explain the matter on the way to Park Lane."

The Prime Minister was agitated; his heavy, jowled face twitched now and then, his lips were pressed together in an expression of the utmost grimness; his eyes were haunted, and a faint dew of perspiration was evident on his brow. Yet his natural austerity was not diminished by the grave concern which troubled him. He paced back and forth, careful to be well away from the windows, while Pons and I made ready to accompany him, and, when we set forth, it was he who led the way in that same silent manner in which he had come, as if he were trying unconsciously to avoid surveillance.

His car, a long, closed Daimler, stood at the kerb. He himself opened the door for Pons and me, nodded to his chauffeur, and followed us into the dark interior.

"Now then," he said nervously, making certain that all communication with the chauffeur was shut away by the glass closing off the tonneau, "it is a most painful and grave matter, Mr. Pons,--a matter, I may say, which may well bring about a rupture of relations with one of the Continental countries--if, indeed, not war!" He lifted his hat and touched his brow with his handkerchief. "A certain document intended for a trio of the highest officials of France has been stolen from the study of the Secretary for European Affairs."

"You have notified the police?"

"By no means! The matter is of such delicacy that we cannot risk any kind of publication, and it is not possible to close off beyond question the ranks of the police; some word of the matter could all too easily leak out, and it might be disastrous, Mr. Pons--a national calamity costing not only untold thousands--perhaps millions--of pounds, but also many lives. No, after consultation with those officers of our government who knew of the existence of this document, it was decided to employ your well-known talents in an effort to recover it with as much dispatch as possible. Once it is delivered into the hands of a certain foreign government--God help us in our present state of military unpreparedness!"
"Let us be frank, Mr. Somerset. The power to which you refer is Germany?"

"Let us imagine that I have admitted nothing. It is Germany."

"Very well. You speak of military preparedness--so, presumably, the document in question had to do with joint plans of England and France to arm secretly in order to be prepared for the culmination of that secret re-armament of Germany which is going on under camouflage with the tacit approval of certain American and British industrialists with rich holdings in that country."

The Prime Minister caught his breath. Then, in a spate of words he said, "Mr. Pons, you are more informed than I dared hope you might be. You have hit upon it; the document in question contains to the last detail plans which have been worked out here by a commission of French and English experts for the secret re-armament of our two allied nations. It is well known, there is no need denying it, that Germany rankles under the terms of the Versailles Treaty, and the wounds of that country have been little salved by the Hoover Moratorium or the Dawes Plan which have come out of America. She has began to re-arm; we are not blind to the fact. However, our people are not prepared to see us enforce the terms of the Treaty by force of arms; they have fallen victim to our own lassitude and to pacifist propaganda, which, however noble in intention, fads always to take into consideration the unknown human element in our sister nations. Moreover, there is no certainty whatsoever that France would support our force of arms, and our own Government is unfortunately sadly divided. In fact, Mr. Pons, I will not be telling you anything you could not learn from another source, but there are in our country an influential group of diplomats and industrialists who would collaborate with Germany at any price, and they have gone so far as to instil grave doubts about His Majesty's Government's official line in the mind of no less a person than the Crown Prince!"

"And the re-armament plan?"

"Ah, yes, the Strong-Cressington Plans. Lord Penryn was to present these plans to the French government tomorrow; that was the purpose of his holiday, as by this time surely you will have guessed. He carried them home with him this afternoon, as arranged, since he had planned to take the night train for Dover just before midnight. He did not leave the papers out of his sight save for a brief period of less than ten minutes, and then they were in his study. He had taken them out to go over them in an effort to settle his doubts about certain clauses; he had laid them on the table in his study; he had gone upstairs after a stronger pair of glasses; when he came back, the papers were gone. The house, moreover was locked, but he discovered on his return that a French window of the study stood slightly open; it had been broken; apparently the thief had made his entry there, and escaped with the papers in that interval."

"Presupposing that Lord Penryn had been watched, and that therefore it was known that such papers were or might be in his possession."

"Exactly, Mr. Pons." The Prime Minister sighed. "Of course, it is impossible to prevent foreign agents in espionage from coming to the correct conclusions when four of the leading exponents of re-armament in France arrive in this country and immediately vanish from public sight together with members of our own re-armament commission and certain ministers of His Majesty's Government. But here we are, and you may talk to Lord Penryn yourself. I assure you he has not left his house; no one has either left or entered the house since he telephoned me; we have issued orders to have the house watched."

"And this took place at what hour?"

"Just an hour ago, Mr. Pons--at eight-thirty o'clock. Lord Penryn was at first badly rattled, and he made the mistake of informing the British Broadcasting Corporation that his visit to the Continent had been cancelled, but when he regained his composure, he recognized that absolute secrecy must be maintained in regard to every phase of his activities."

Lord Penryn's house rose in a spacious square of ground behind a hawthorn hedge, shrouded in trees, and, while not easily accessible from the street, clearly afforded refuge to anyone who succeeded in penetrating the hedge. The Prime Minister slipped from the car; Pons and I followed. Mr. Somerset led the way into the house, and went directly to the study, where we encountered Lord Penryn, the austere, be-monocled Secretary for European Affairs, pacing the floor.

Lord Penryn, a man fully six feet tall, with long, almost haughtily equine features, was haggard and distraught; his monocle swung on its ribbon against his waistcoat; his smoking jacket hung open. His keen eyes turned on us as we crossed the threshold; he ceased his pacing and sighed with some relief.
"Somerset! And these gentlemen . . . ?" Then he recognized Pons. "Mr. Solar Pons! My dear fellow, forgive me! I am naturally upset. The Prime Minister has told you?" He looked questioningly at Somerset.
"I should like to hear your story, if you please, Lord Penryn."

"Certainly, certainly. Please be seated, gentleman. I trust you will not mind if I remain standing. I am restless and disturbed. I brought the plans home with me, and shortly after dinner I retired to this room to look them over. I sat down at that table there--yes, Mr. Pons, the one at which the Prime Minister is sitting--at that precise spot . . ."

"If the Prime Minister will be so kind as to take another seat," suggested Pons, "I should like the scene of the crime to be as little changed as possible."

With admirable aplomb the Prime Minister changed seats.

"Pray forgive my interruption. Continue, My Lord," said Pons, as if he had not just witnessed the silent obedience of the Prime Minister of England to his whim.

"In the course of my examination, my eyes began to ache, and I left the study to go to my room for my reading glasses. I was gone less than ten minutes, possibly closer to five; I could not immediately find my glasses, but I assure you I could not have been gone more than seven minutes. When I returned, I was dismayed to discover that the plans were gone. When I looked around, I saw that that French window stood open, just as you see it, and that a portion of one pane had been broken in. Since then, I have not set foot out of this room."

"You did not consider it indiscreet to leave the plans unguarded, My Lord?" asked Pons.

"I had personally seen to it that every door and window in the house was locked."

"You are alone here?"

"No, Mr. Pons, I am not. The room above is occupied by Lady Sybil Wector, my niece, who has been acting as my hostess in the absence of my wife, now visiting relatives in America. She has been upset by preparations for her marriage to Eric Horrell, Viscount Pellman, and has been indisposed most of the day, though she took dinner with me this evening. Apart from her, there is my brother Cadogan. Both are upstairs. Then there are the servants, of course. But surely you do not suspect anyone in the house, Mr. Pons; I assure you my servants have been with me for ten years and more; they are absolutely above suspicion."

"Those people who are above suspicion are rarely found, My Lord. Let us now consider the possibility of how knowledge of these papers escaped, for obviously it must be so if someone broke into your study and abstracted them. How many people knew of your having the papers here tonight?"

"Apart from my personal staff and the Prime Minister, no one."

"And in Mr. Somerset's office?" inquired Pons, turning to him.

"Myself, my chief clerks, and my secretary. All are unimpeachable, Mr. Pons."

"Manifestly, however, someone let the news slip. How else could anyone have known sufficiently in advance to be watching and waiting for the opportunity to snatch the Strong-Cressington Plans? You are assuming that someone stood on the terrace outside and watched Lord Penryn at his papers; the fortuitous moment arrived, he broke in, he snatched the papers and vanished. That presupposes informed knowledge. What manner of papers were they, by the way?"

"Like these." Lord Penryn took up three loose sheets of legal foolscap and handed them to Pons, who examined them gravely.

"These, too, seem to be plans."

"Of no account. They are public knowledge."

Pons put them absently into his pocket and got up to walk around the table, at which Lord Penryn had been sitting. Then he walked over to the partly open French window. I walked after him and stood looking over his shoulder to where he knelt examining the fragments of glass on the stone still beyond the door. He touched nothing, however, until he came to examine the broken pane itself; then he detached from one edge of the broken glass a thin strand of some white material, which he handed to me with a quixotic smile.

"What do you make of this, Parker?"

"It is evidently silk. If I were to make a guess, I should say it was torn from a gentleman's silk scarf."

"It appears to be somewhat soft and light in texture for that purpose. But let us see."

He returned to the table and bent above it. Lord Penryn and the Prime Minister watched him with nervous interest. growing steadily more impatient at the thought that even now the precious plans might be on the way to alien hands. The table was plainly that of an orderly and precise man, for everything was in its place; on one side stood ink-wells, and pens, together with an antique box of yew containing various clips, pencils, erasers, and similar appurtenances. Beside this lay a letter-opener, and a pen which Lord Penryn had obviously been using earlier in the evening, for one of the ink-wells still stood open. On the other side of the table, that closest to the open French window, lay a stack of papers neatly piled together and held down by a heavy glass ball on a flat base; this had at one time sustained several chips, and as my eye fell upon it, I observed that Pons was examining it with interest.

"Ah, you have seen it, Parker? What do you make of it?"

Adhering to one of the chipped places on the paperweight were two more silk fibres, of a piece with that found on the broken pane.

"Clearly the fellow leaned over here--he would be coming from the windows--he caught his scarf again here, and left his calling-card, so to speak," I ventured.

"That is a most ingenious solution. And how would you account for the strand we discovered on the window-pane?"
The explanation struck me even as Pons asked. "Obviously the scarf was used to muffle the sound of the glass being broken."

Pons looked across to the Secretary for European Affairs. "Did My Lord hear the sound of breaking glass at any time?"

"No, Mr. Pons. I heard nothing."

"Where is your room, My Lord?"

"At the far end of the upper hall."

"So that it would not be at all strange if you failed to hear such a sound?"

"No, it would not."

"I daresay we have arrived at the correct explanation in regard to the glass. Where are the servants?"

"In their quarters."

"Their quarters are at the rear of the house?"

"Yes."

"They were there at the time of the burglary?"

"Yes."

"I think I should like to question Lady Wector and your brother Cadogan. Do you think you might summon them to, the study?"

"Certainly, Mr. Pons, if you wish it."

"I do. Meanwhile, I shall just look about the rest of the house a bit. No, thank you, I will go alone. I trust you will have Lady Wector and your brother here at my return."

"I will get them myself."

The Prime Minister's agitation broke forth. "Mr. Pons, I beg of you!  Think--the papers may even now be escaping us! Are these questions necessary?"

"That is impossible to say at this point. They may yield nothing. Nevertheless, I am bound to ask them. Pray trust to my methods, Mr. Somerset."

Thus admonished, the Prime Minister settled back once more, though with obvious reluctance, while Pons slipped from the room, and Lord Penryn followed, on his way to summon his brother and his niece.

#

When Pons returned almost a quarter of an hour later, Lady Sybil Wector and her uncle Cadogan were waiting in the study. Lady Sybil was a dark-eyed, dark-haired young woman in her late twenties; she was most attractive, but manifestly at the moment uncertain of her role, as was her uncle, also. He was a man somewhat younger than his famous brother, and of a different stamp, rather careless of his appearance, with far less dignity than his brother naturally possessed. He regarded Pons, at his entrance, with openly-shown suspicion, put out the cigarette he had been smoking, and tightened himself up, narrowing his eyes. Solar Pons made an impressive figure standing before them; he had not removed his Inverness, and the flowing folds of his cape seemed to give added emphasis to his lean, hawk-like face.

"Ah, Lady Sybil Wector I am sorry to inconvenience you," began Pons without the formality of an introduction, "but an attempt has been made to break into My Lord's study,"--he gestured casually toward the French windows--"and we are most anxious to ascertain whether or not you heard the sound of breaking glass."

"I was lying down."

"You heard nothing?"

"Nothing but my uncle ascending the stairs, Mr. Pons."
"I see. And you sir?" He turned to Lord Penryn's brother.

"I heard nothing."

Pons looked at him searchingly. "You have been playing billiards within the past twelve hours?"

The fellow started, and then smiled. "I've heard of your methods, Mr. Solar Pons. I have."

"Yes, there is chalk on your clothes. Did I not see you at the races yesterday week?"

"Quite possible."

Lord Penryn interrupted angrily. "I told you to keep away, Cadogan."

"Yes, I believe you did, My Lord," said Cadogan with an ill-concealed disrespect.

"You were in your room all evening?" pressed Pons.

"Yes, I was."

"And you, Lady Sybil?"

"Certainly, Mr. Pons. I was lying down, as I said. I retired to my room directly after dinner."

The Prime Minister covered his eyes with one hand and sighed. Lord Penryn fidgeted with his monocle. Both gentlemen were manifestly burning with impatience to be up and about doing something more active to recover the stolen papers.

Pons excused Lady Sybil Wector, and stood facing Cadogan.

"I fancy it is not a shot in the dark to suggest to you, sir, that you have been gambling."

"Not at all. My brother could have told you."

"He did not."

"How deeply are you in?"

Cadogan got up leisurely and insolently. "I do not believe I am required to answer that question. Good night, Mr. Pons."

"Good night. Try the third horse in the second tomorrow."

Cadogan turned on the threshold and gave Pons a rather amazed grin; then he was gone.

"I must apologize for my brother's rudeness," said Lord Penryn in some concern.

"Ah, not at all, My Lord. He was within his rights. I take it his gambling scrapes are a source of some difficulty.

"He has no respect for my position," said Lord Penryn with manifest pain. "He does not seem to realize that there are people who are only too ready to discredit me for what my brother is and does."

"But the papers, Mr. Pons!" cried the Prime Minister in a despairing voice.

"If you gentlemen will put yourselves in my hands, I fancy I shall be able to produce them before the night is over."

Both the Prime Minister and the Secretary for European Affairs gazed at Pons in astonishment. It was Lord Penryn who broke the awkward silence.

"Forgive me. You startled me. Whatever you say, Mr. Pons."

"Very well then. There is not much time. Do you possess fire-arms, My Lord?"

"I have a brace of revolvers."

"We shall want them. We shall want the Prime Minister's car."

"It is at your disposal," said Mr. Somerset.

Lord Penryn left the room.

"You may call off anyone guarding the house. Now."

The-Prime Minister looked uncertainly at Pons, but, after only a moment of reluctance, he went to the telephone, called a number, and gave the necessary directives. Then he returned to face Pons.

"If there is danger, Mr. Pons, perhaps we had better notify the police?"

"No, I believe that unnecessary."

Lord Penryn came back into the room, carrying his revolvers.

"They are loaded?"

"Ready for use, Mr. Pons."

"Good. We are going out. I fancy the four of us can deal with the matter. Has My Lord cancelled his reservations on the Dover train?"

"No, Mr. Pons, I forgot to do so."

"Capital! You may yet have use for them. Let us have faith. Now then, if Mr. Somerset will be so good as to instruct his chauffeur to follow my directions without deviation . . ."

"Certainly, Mr. Pons. We have come this far; we must go all the way."

"I fancy that is politically sound," said Pons dryly.

We left the house and got into the Prime Minister's car. Pons followed us into the tonneau after he had given instructions to the chauffeur. After the door closed behind him, the car pulled smoothly away.

"If I may ask-where are we going?" inquired Lord Penryn.

"My Lord, we are going only a very short distance. You shall see."

The car rolled up to a corner, turned, went up a city block, turned again, and continued until we were once more back on Park Lane; the head-lamps went out, the car glided smoothly to a stop. Lord Penryn looked out.

"Why, sir, we are only a few doors removed from my home!"

"Six doors, I believe."

"What are we doing here?"

"Waiting."

"Great Heaven! Upon what or whom are we waiting now?" burst out the Prime Minister.

"Why, we are waiting for a car which will drive out into Park Lane from one of these houses within the next half hour, unless I am sadly mistaken. When it does, we are going to follow it."

Lord Penryn and the Prime Minister exchanged shaken glances. I was myself beginning to feel a little shaken, confident as I was of Pons' methods. I took out a cigarette and would have lit it, but Pons stopped me.

"No smoking, Parker. Someone may see the glow of your cigarette."

The minutes ticked slowly past. Outside the clear sky vanished as a light fog began to form along the street. The Prime Minister and the Secretary for European Affairs could not conceal their uneasiness. Big Ben boomed out the hour of ten; it seemed incredible that everything, which had so far taken place since the Prime Minister called at our lodgings, had occurred within forty minutes.

We had not as long to wait, however, as Pons had supposed. Within a quarter of an hour of the time we had rolled to a stop along the kerb, a car swung out into Park Lane some distance ahead of us; Pons rapped smartly on the glass, and our car started up, almost noiselessly, and went for several blocks without turning up the head-lamps, for there was little traffic at this hour, and the fog was not yet thick. Then the dimmed lights were put cautiously on; our quarry was within easy sight ahead of us. Indeed, we had gone less than two miles before we came to a stop once more. Before us by seven or eight doors, stood the object of our pursuit.

"Here we go, Parker," said Pons. He pressed one of Lord Penryn's revolvers upon him. "My Lord, you will be driven up closer to the other car, which is standing just before the house we want. Parker and I are going around to the back; you gentlemen will oblige me by keeping the front of the house under reasonable surveillance. That is--if a man comes out of the front door, stop him; use the pistol if necessary. If a woman--make no effort to stop her. Stay in the car until Parker comes for you. Now, then, Parker--a clever game is afoot."

We slipped out of the car and ran down along a row of houses there before we darted down a little lane, made our way somewhat incautiously through a yew hedge, and emerged into an attractively planned garden. Pons pushed forward. By this time the fog had increased in density to such a degree that it required care to prevent one from blundering into shrubs or falling over statuary in the garden. Pons went directly up to the French windows opening from the house to the garden; behind them, a subdued light glowed, and, as I came up behind him and pressed my face, too, to the glass, I saw in that room the back of a heavily veiled woman, and across the table from her, a familiar, most sinister figure--that of the arch-criminal, Baron Ennesfred Kroll! At the moment of our coming, the woman had evidently just handed the Baron an envelope which he held in his hands, the contents of which he was just about to examine.
With adroit rapidity, Solar Pons kicked in the French windows and leveled his pistol at the man behind the table.

"Baron Kroll, I believe."

An expression of baffled rage made the Baron's sinister features livid. His eyes darted from one to the other of us, to the open doors behind us, across the room to the door into the hall, through which his visitor had come.

"I assure you, my dear fellow, I would enjoy pulling the trigger. I advise you to be more circumspect."
At this instant the woman tamed silently and fled.

"Let her go, Parker."

"You are not a police agent, Mr. Solar Pons."

"Sir, I am but a lowly house-breaker," retorted Pons. "I concede that that is considerably below the status of an extraordinary espionage agent and blackmailer, who is not above stooping to any kind of indecency to gain his ends. Parker, you may now summon the gentlemen in the car outside. Pray contain yourself, Baron--one false move, and Berlin will have the opportunity to give you a state funeral."
"You will regret this, Mr. Solar Pons."

Neither Pons nor Kroll had changed his position when I returned with Lord Penryn and the Prime Minister, both of whom preceded me into the room, so that I saw the astonishment and chagrin on their faces, for both had met Baron Kroll socially.

"I think you gentlemen know one another," said Pons suavely. "If My Lord will be so good as to take that envelope from Baron Kroll's hands--pray keep out of range, My Lord."

The Secretary for European Affairs, white with anger, stepped across the room and snatched the envelope from Baron Kroll.

"Pray examine it, Gentlemen. I fancy you will find in it state papers of such importance as to make it necessary to hold Baron Kroll as a foreign espionage agent."

Lord Penryn tore open the envelope with shaking fingers; he took out the folded foolscap within, unfolded it--and let out a low, inarticulate cry, while his features expressed the uttermost horror.
"Mr. Pons!" he cried in a trembling voice. "These are not the Strong-Cressington Plans!"
Pons flashed an urgent glance at the Prime Minister. "I believe Mr. Somerset will identify them as important state papers whose possession by Baron Kroll subjects him to appropriate prosecution under the Military Secrets Act."

The Prime Minister took the papers from Lord Penryn's trembling fingers, glanced at them, nodded, and stepped to Baron Kroll's telephone to call in members of the C. I. D. and order Baron Kroll under arrest. But, clearly, something had gone wrong, though Pons continued to talk and act as if Lord Penryn had made the error and not he, much to my perplexity. Was he then so determined to win the battle of wits with the Baron that he would willingly prosecute him for a theft of which he had not been guilty? But if Baron Kroll had not held in his hands the Strong-Cressington Plans, what papers had he held? He had not had time himself to examine them, for the envelope had not yet been fully opened when it had been passed into Lord Penryn's possession.

"I have met this man in my own house," said Lord Penryn at last in a voice heavy with accusation.

"Baron Kroll does not uphold the same standards as English gentlemen do," said Pons. "He carries on a secondary existence as a particularly obnoxious kind of leech who preys upon human failings by blackmailing his poor victims--not for money, for he has no need of that; I fancy Berlin makes him a generous allowance--but for anything in the way of state secrets which may be of value to his superiors. We shall discover his dupes in good time."

Baron Kroll bared his teeth in a kind of feral grimace. "I demand the right to communicate with my legal advisers."

"No, Baron, I think not," said Pons.

"At least let me be assured that my possessions will not be molested."

"Sir, I am no common house-breaker,'' answered Pons. "I assure you that your possessions will be left strictly alone."

Baron Kroll fenced with his eyes; a fine beading of perspiration became evident on his forehead. But he said nothing more until a Commissioner of New Scotland Yard and two Inspectors, one of them our old friend, Jamison, came to take Baron Kroll away.

They had hardly departed before both Lord Penryn and the Prime Minister crowded upon my friend.

"The Strong-Cressington Plans!" exclaimed the Secretary for European Affairs. "Where are they?"

"Pray be patient, Gentlemen," replied Pons, gravely looking at his watch. "It is not yet eleven. There is plenty of time to make the Dover train." He turned to me. "Now then, Parker, we have work to do. We shall look for letters, photographs, and the usual debris of blackmail."

Forthwith we began to turn the study upside down, but it was Pons who found, behind a large portrait on the wall, the receptacle which contained the things he sought. He took out packet after packet of letters, stuffing them into his pockets, occasionally calling out a name, until at last he had an answer.

"David Regan!" cried the Prime Minister. "He is my secretary."

"Then it was he who informed Baron Kroll that Lord Penryn had taken the Strong-Cressington Plans home with him!"

"Impossible!"

"Not at all. Here are his letters. I fancy the Baron paid handsomely for them, that he felt his indiscretions of more importance than state secrets. He telephoned the Baron, and the Baron telephoned another of his victims whose circumstances were even more pressing. She brought him the papers."

"But no!" cried Lord Penryn, agonized now. "Mr. Pons you are playing with us."

"Not at all, My Lord. Come, we are finished here. We shall return to our lodgings if the Prime Minister will be so kind."

We drove rapidly to number seven, Praed Street, Pons discoursing all the way in the most agonizingly leisurely fashion on the foibles of men and women, and the ways of blackmailers, who invade the defenseless and put spiritual pressure upon even the strongest men and women with disastrous results.
"Come in, Gentlemen," invited Pons as the car drew up before number seven.

The Prime Minister and the Secretary for European Affairs had no recourse but to follow Pons. Once more inside our rooms, from which we had taken our leave less than two hours before, Pons divested himself of his Inverness and stood next to the fire, rubbing his hands and gazing at the clock.

"There is still time to make the Dover train, My Lord." He smiled and turned to the Prime Minister. "Mr. Somerset, be advised to do all in your power to see to it that Baron Kroll cannot operate any longer in England. I know that powerful pressure will be brought to bear, both by his government, and by friends within our borders. Regan must be dismissed; but do not be too harsh with him; God knows what torture was applied by that scoundrel." He turned to Lord Penryn. "My Lord, do you know who stole the Strong-Cressington Plans?"

"Mr. Pons, I do not. I cannot think."

"It is of little moment, in the circumstances. You will come to it in good time; pray do not forget to be merciful. Here are the papers."

So saying, Pons reached into the inner pocket of his coat and gave the Strong-Cressington Plans into Lord Penryn's hands. Lord Penryn allowed them to fall open so that he could identify them.

"Thank God!" he cried.

The Prime Minister looked at Pons with a dark frown. "By what legerdemain did you accomplish that, Mr. Pons?"

"Remarkable! Astounding!" babbled Lord Penryn.

"You over-estimate my modest powers, Gentlemen. The Strong-Cressington Plans were not for one moment out of Lord Penryn's house until I carried them out myself."

"You!" exclaimed the Secretary for European Affairs.

"Ah, yes, My Lord. Surely it was obvious that no one had entered by the window? Even my friend Parker came close to seeing that. You will reflect that the broken glass from the pane of the French window lay on the stone sill, which is on the outside, not on the floor inside, thus indicating that the glass had been broken from the inside. Moreover, the strand of silk I picked from the jagged pane was taken from the inside. And, finally, the paper weight had been wrapped in the silk cloth for the purpose of breaking the window, thus accounting for the silk fibres adhering to it. Observing this, having the assurance of the Prime Minister that no one had entered or left the house since Lord Penryn's discovery of his loss, I had no alternative but to realize that the papers had not been delivered; therefore it followed that they were still in the house; and I had only to look in the most likely place, find them, and substitute the old papers which you, My Lord, had so kindly shown me but a few minutes before. At once I felt that the Strong-Cressington Plans might lead me to Baron Kroll, with whom I have had several encounters, ending less happily, ere this."

"Mr. Pons, allow me to congratulate you," said the Prime Minister.

"Thank you. But now, as you see, it is past eleven. I fancy there is still time for Lord Penryn to change his mind and take his holiday in the south of France, after all.  Good night, Gentlemen."
After he had shown our distinguished clients from out lodgings, Pons returned to the packets of letters he had taken from Baron Kroll's study. He sought through them until he came to a small packet on cream stationery.

"Ah, here are Lady Sybil Wector's most indiscreet letters to young Alison Scott. Dear me! I fear Viscount Pellman would never have appreciated them; he is rather stodgy, and doubtless the Baron is well aware of it. Let us just slip them into an envelope and mail them back to Lady Sybil tonight. We shall see to it that the other letters reach their rightful owners tomorrow."

"It must elate you to have cornered Baron Kroll at last, Pons."

"Ah, how sanguine you are, Parker! You know the ways of the world. I have cornered him tonight--tomorrow, who knows? Diplomacy is not your field. But at least, I fancy England will be free of him for a time. There are darker days coming. I had rather he were permanently disposed of, but an alert opponent adds zest to the game, and, though he is a scoundrel, he is an opponent worthy of my mettle."

Nor was Pons wrong in his final deduction in the matter of Lord Penryn's lost holiday. Within a fortnight the Right Honorable Sackville Somerset did him the courtesy of sending word that Baron Ennesfred Kroll, claiming diplomatic immunity, had been given the support of the German embassy and had escaped punishment under the Military Secrets Act. The Prime Minister, however, succeeded in having Baron Kroll stigmatized as persona non grata to His Majesty's Government, and thus forced his recall to Berlin, just as Solar Pons had foreseen.