Paul Temple: East of Algiers

‘Suppose Constantin is right and you don’t succeed in finding David Foster. There may not be any such person.’

‘In that case I’ll take the glasses back to France and hand them over to the police. All the same I think David Foster exists – though he may well be known by another name. It’s even possible that we’ve met him already.’

‘You think he might be Tony Wyse? In that case why does he not ask you outright to hand over his property? But I don’t think that theory holds water. I can’t believe there’s much wrong with Mr. Wyse’s eyesight.’

It was significant of our feelings that when the telephone rang my first action was to tuck the glasses safely away in my breast pocket and arrange my handkerchief to cover them. Only when that was done to the satisfaction of both of us did I cross to the bedside table and lift the receiver.

‘Who is it?’

‘Is that Mr. Temple?’

‘Yes. Who’s that speaking?’

‘It’s David Foster here. I understand you have my spectacles. I thought I’d ring up and arrange to collect them from you.’

‘Oh, Mr. Foster?’ I echoed the name, looking at Steve as I did so. She immediately came and stood with her ear close to the other side of the receiver, straining to catch both sides of the conversation. ‘I didn’t expect to hear from you till we reached Tunis.’

‘Oh. I see. Well I had to come over to Algiers for a few days on business. I had a cable from Judy and she told me you would be coming this way. I thought it would save you further trouble if I relieved you of the glasses right away.’