The Ponson Case · Chapter 9 (1/2)

IX

Lois Drew Takes a Hand

Just about the time that the arrest of Austin Ponson was taking place, Miss Lois Drew entered her drawing-room, and sitting down at the old Sheraton desk near the window, became immersed in her household accounts.

The low ceilinged, green-tinted room was pleasantly cool on this hot, dusty morning. The bow window faced west, and so was shaded from the glare of the sun. The casements stood invitingly open to the warm, scent-laden air, which streamed gently in over the fragrant masses of colour in the flower beds without. The faint hum of honey-seeking insects fell soothingly and companionably on the ear. Now and then a sudden crescendo marked the swift passage of a bee, busily intent on its own affairs, while butterflies flitted aimlessly by with erratic, dancing movements. Beyond the garden a meadow stretched down to the river, in which cattle, immersed to the knees, stood motionless, enjoying the cool of the water. The surface of the reach was still and unruffled, and reflected as in a mirror the tree-covered slopes of the opposite bank. Restful and pleasant was the prospect without, and within, the whole atmosphere of the room breathed an equal contentment and peace.

And no less pleasant and restful to the eye was the figure of the girl at the desk. Though hardly anyone would have called her beautiful, she had what was of much greater importance⁠—that elusive indefinable quality called charm. There was charm in her graceful movements, in the steady glance of her dark, lustrous eyes, in the ready smile which lit up her expressive face, and in the low, mellow tones of her musical voice. She bent over her task, working rapidly, carrying out the business of the moment as she did everything she undertook, quietly, unobtrusively, and efficiently.

She had lived what most girls of her age would have called a dull and pleasureless life. Her mother, who had been the brains and the manager of the household, had died when she was fifteen, leaving the care of her kindly, idealistic, impractical father and her pretty, inconsequent younger sister on her hands. Almost unconsciously she had shouldered the burden, but a very real burden she soon found it. Though they lived comfortably, even well, they were far from being well off; indeed, before long the chronic strain of making ends meet became to her a veritable nightmare. But she carried on bravely with a smiling face, entirely forgetful of her own pleasure. If only her father could be spared worry, and her sister have as good an education and as much amusement as could be extracted from their circumstances. But if the strain had made her self-reliant and dependable, it had also somewhat aged her and given her a seriousness beyond her years. She had, however, her reward in the way her father, now a rapidly ageing man, idolised and leant on her, and in the exuberant affection of her sister.

She had on this bright summer morning just completed her accounts, having with characteristic thoroughness at last run to earth a fugitive fivepence which for a considerable time had avoided capture. She was putting away her books when the elderly general servant brought in a note. It was addressed in Austin Ponson’s square, masculine hand. With a sudden irrational feeling of foreboding she waited till the woman had left the room, then tore it open, and with a clutching at the heart read:

“Dear Lois: I am writing this by the courtesy of Inspector Tanner of Scotland Yard, though he has warned me he will have to read it before sending it on. He tells me that some evidence has been received which throws suspicion of my father’s murder on me, and that he is bound to arrest me. I do not yet know the details. This is just to say, dearest, that of course I see that under the circumstances there can be no question of an engagement between us. I will live in hope that if this trouble passes over, you will perhaps allow me once again to plead my cause, but if this should be goodbye, I can only say I am innocent of this awful charge, and beg you to think as kindly of me as you can.

For several minutes Lois Drew sat motionless, her white face hard and set, her horror-stricken eyes fastened on the fateful words. So the blow had fallen at last⁠—the terrible blow that ever since the Inspector’s visit she had feared day and night. Since the tragedy it had been as if some Dread Shade lurked, for the moment indeed in the background, but ready at any minute to step forward and intrude its baleful presence into Austin’s life and hers. For never for a moment had it occurred to her to break off the engagement, and now, though Austin had written of its cancellation as an obvious and indeed an accomplished fact, she never really allowed her mind to harbour the idea. Had she not promised to marry him? Very well, that was enough. If he had wanted her when all things were well, would he not want her tenfold now when trouble had come? But though she did not seriously consider his proposal, subconsciously she was pleased that he had made it so promptly. And she did not resent the cold tone of his note. She realised his feelings were sacred to him. Neither he nor she could have them weighed and sifted by an Inspector of police.

As she sat, motionless in body and almost numb in mind, waiting unconsciously till the first rude shock should have somewhat passed over, she tried to consider the matter dispassionately. She knew that many persons arrested on suspicion were afterwards set at liberty, the charge against them breaking down on further investigation, and that of those actually brought to trial, a respectable percentage were acquitted. But she also knew that in a case like the present Scotland Yard would not order an arrest unless there were pretty strong grounds to go on. And this was particularly so where the accused had been under suspicion for some time, as she guessed from Tanner’s visit to herself Austin had been. But she was a good friend. In all her cogitations never once did the possibility of her lover’s guilt enter her thoughts. Of his innocence she was as certain as of her own existence.

As time passed, her mind became clearer, and her practical common sense reasserted itself. What, she wondered, was she to do? She was so ignorant of the law, so unversed in its usages, so unaware of its possibilities. But she felt one thing demanded her immediate care. That impossible idea of breaking the engagement must be put out of Austin’s head without further delay. He must not be allowed to think for one moment that his trouble could make any difference to her. He must be made to feel she was not leaving him in the lurch.

But how was she to communicate with him?

She did not know whether he would be allowed to receive letters, but she fancied not. At all events there might be a delay in their delivery. She thought for a few moments, and then she took a sheet of paper and wrote as follows:

“Dear Mr. Tanner: I have received the letter from Mr. Ponson which you were good enough to permit him to write and I wish to convey to you my grateful thanks for your consideration. In case it should be contrary to the rules for him to receive my reply direct, I write to ask whether you could possibly see your way to convey to him this message⁠—first, that I will not hear of our engagement being broken off; on the contrary, I am going to announce it immediately, and second, that though I know it is unnecessary to assure him of my absolute belief in him and in his innocence, I still wish to do so in the strongest manner possible.

“I thought you were exceedingly kind on the day you called here, and I am sure that if you can do me this great favour you will.

She addressed the envelope to “Inspector Tanner, Criminal Investigation Department, New Scotland Yard, London,” marking it “Personal.” Then putting on her hat, she walked quickly to the post office and dropped the letter into the receiver. She thought that many of the passersby looked at her curiously, but she was too much absorbed in her own thoughts to care.

As she turned homewards it suddenly occurred to her that her cousin Jimmy might help her. Mr. James Daunt was junior partner of a London firm of solicitors, a clever, and she believed, a rising man, and who would have all the knowledge of the possibilities of the case which she lacked. Moreover, Jimmy was a decent soul, and a good friend of her own. They had seen a lot of each other as children, and she felt he would help her if he could.

She turned into the local telephone office and put through a call. Mr. James Daunt was in his office. If she came to town he could see her at five o’clock.

She travelled up by the 3:30 train, and at the hour named mounted the steps of the old house in Lincoln’s Inn. She was soon in her cousin’s room.

“Hallo old girl!” he greeted her when the door had closed. “Jolly to see you. It’s not often you take pity on a lonely old bachelor like this. Sit down, won’t you?”

She sank back into a deep, leather-lined armchair. They talked commonplaces for a few moments, and then Lois referred to the object of her call. She found it much harder to begin than she had expected, but when her cousin understood she was really in trouble he dropped his somewhat breezy manner and became serious and sympathetic.

“Have you had tea?” he asked, interrupting her story.

“Not yet. I came direct from the station.”

“Then not a word till you’ve had it,” he declared. “Come out to a quiet little place I know. We can talk there without interruption.”

Though she had not realised it, Lois was almost fainting for food. She had not eaten any lunch, and now the hot stimulant and the fresh rolls and butter did her more good than she could have thought possible. She smiled across at him.

“I believe I was dying of hunger,” she announced.

“Just like you,” he retorted, “at your old games again. Always thinking of somebody else, and forgetting your own much more important self.”

“Well, you’ve probably saved my life. And now, Jimmy, I do want your help.”

“I know, old girl. I don’t need to tell you I’ll do everything I can. Just start in and let’s have the whole story. You don’t mind if I smoke?”

“Of course not. The first thing I have to tell you is⁠—that I have become engaged to be married.”

“By Jove, you have!” cried Jimmy, jumping up and holding out his hand. “I hadn’t an inkling there was anything in the wind. Best possible congratulations, old girl. I think a cousinly salutation⁠—” they were alone in an alcove, and he kissed her lightly on the cheek. “And who’s the lucky man, if it’s not a secret?”

“Ah, there’s no luck in it, Jimmy. That’s what I’ve come about. It’s Austin Ponson.”

“Austin Ponson? How do you mean no luck? Why, dear girl, I congratulate you again. I have heard of him, and always that he was a white man through and through.”

Tears trembled on Lois’s long eyelashes. It took all her strength of will to speak in her normal tone.

“Dear Jimmy, you can’t think what it means to me to hear you say that. You evidently don’t know what has happened. He’s in frightful trouble.”

Jimmy looked his question.

“He’s just been arrested on the charge”⁠—Lois’s lip quivered in spite of herself⁠—“of murdering his father.”

Her cousin whistled.

“Good Lord!” he cried, “you don’t say so? Poor old girl.”

“It’s terrible. Oh, Jimmy, what are we to do?”

“It’s damnable. But you musn’t be downhearted. Many and many a man has been arrested for a crime he has known nothing about. Don’t get upset till we’re sure there is something to be upset about. Tell me the details.”

She told him all she knew; of Austin’s visit at eleven on the fatal night, of the hoax that had been played on him, of their learning of Sir William’s disappearance the next day, of the inquest and its adjournment, of Tanner’s visit to her, of the adjourned inquest, and of Austin’s note, and her reply to it. He listened in silence till she had finished.

“And you have no idea what this new evidence is?” he asked at last.

“None whatever.”

“Our first step will be to find that out. I think I can do that. Then if you give me authority to act for you, I’ll see him and hear what he has to say about it. That would probably be the quickest way to learn our defence.”

“Could I see him, Jimmy?”

Her cousin hesitated.

“I hardly think so,” he said slowly, “at present. Later on if the case really goes to trial there should be no difficulty. Just for the immediate present I shouldn’t make a move. You have done enough for him, writing that letter to the Inspector.”

Lois looked at him searchingly.

“Don’t try to keep me away from him, Jimmy,” she pleaded.

“Of course not. But it would be difficult for you to get an order, and you better wait till we see how things go on. You probably wouldn’t get two orders under any circumstances.”

“If you keep me from him, I’ll never forgive you.”

“Dear girl, don’t get notions. I wouldn’t attempt it. But we’re hardly so far on as that yet. There is his family to consider. Have you seen them?”

“No. Why should I?”

“Just that if they’re going to undertake the defence I don’t quite see where we come in. But we’ll find that out.” He paused and then went on: “Now, old girl, you’ve come to me for professional advice and you’re going to get it. Don’t think I’m trying to keep you away from Austin Ponson, but my advice to you is, don’t make any announcement of your engagement for a day or two yet. You will only distract and worry Ponson, and you won’t do any good. The thing to concentrate on is to get him out of the hands of the police. He’ll want all his wits to help with that. He knows you’re not going to drop him, and that will be enough to comfort him. Take my advice, Lois, and let things alone for the present.”

“But how can I see him or do anything for him if the engagement is not known?”

“What could you do if it was?”

“Well, I could at least take my share of arranging for his defence.”

“Aren’t you doing that now? What more do you think you could do?”

“But how can you approach the family, acting for me, if it’s not known that we’re engaged?”

“Perfectly simply. I’ll see him, explain the facts, and get him to employ me. That will give me ten times the authority that you could, and it will leave his mind at rest about you. Believe me, Lois, that’s the thing to be done.”

“Oh, Jimmy, if you’ll do that it would make just all the difference. How good you are!”

“Rubbish. But remember you’ve got to do your part⁠—to sit tight and say nothing. I’ll see all these people and arrange matters.”

“But you’ll let me know how you get on?”

“Sure. I’ll keep nothing back from you.”

He asked her some more questions, finally seeing her to St. Pancras and putting her into the Halford train.

“By Jove,” he soliloquised as he left the station, “here’s a mess! Whatever happens”⁠—he swore great oaths under his breath⁠—“Lois must be kept out of it. As decent a girl as lives! That’s the way with these extra good women⁠—they will throw themselves away on rotters of all kinds. Heavens, what an idea! To announce an engagement with a man arrested for murder! And now first of all to nip that madness in the bud⁠—if possible.” He hailed a taxi and was driven to Scotland Yard.

“Is Inspector Tanner in?” he asked. “Private business.”

Tanner, it appeared, was just going home, but had not yet left. He returned to his room.

“My name,” began Jimmy, “is Daunt⁠—James Daunt, junior partner of Willington, Daunt & Daunt, Solicitors, of Lincoln’s Inn.”

Tanner bowed.

“I know your firm, sir,” he said quietly.

“I called on behalf of my cousin, Miss Lois Drew, of Halford. You can no doubt guess my business?”

“You are going to act for Mr. Ponson?”