News of Paul Temple

‘I popped into Mrs Moffat’s,’ put in Temple suddenly becoming aware of the conversation once more. ‘Just as I was on the verge of leaving, in barged the young fellow I was telling you about – David Lindsay. He was obviously excited and rather worried about something. To cut a long story short, he asked me if I was coming into Inverdale, and whether I’d deliver a letter for him to a Mr John Richmond, who happened to be staying at the “Royal Gate”. Naturally, I agreed to do so. On the way here, however, two men stopped us—’

Sir Graham looked up sharply. ‘Can you describe them?’

‘There was a man who called himself Doctor Laurence van Draper, and another, rather military-looking chap, who said that he was Major Lindsay, father of the young man who gave me the letter. They told us a rather one-sided story about the young fellow being a bit mental, and more or less demanded the letter. They were quite nice about it, but obviously meant business.’

‘What happened?’ demanded Forbes eagerly.

‘Well, Paul happened to buy a packet of postcards, which Mrs Moffat fortunately popped into an envelope,’ smiled Steve.

‘You don’t mean you gave them the postcards?’ asked Forbes, jumping up.

‘I’m afraid so,’ Temple replied evenly.

‘Well, I’m damned!’ Forbes sank back and slapped his thigh in approval. Temple wandered off to the window again.

‘Now listen, Temple. This is most important. I want you to describe that young man as closely as possible.’

Temple swung round.

‘You mean Lindsay? Oh, he was about five feet ten – dark – good-looking—’

‘Rather like Frank Lawton, the film actor,’ supplied Steve.

‘My God, it’s Hammond all right!’ ejaculated Forbes, thumping his fist on the table. ‘Now, of course, I understand.’

Temple had crossed to a chair and picked up the jacket he had been wearing earlier in the day. As he dived into an inside pocket, a look of concern spread over his features.

‘Darling, what is it?’ asked Steve.

‘The letter…’ gasped Temple.

Forbes went across to him quickly. ‘Temple, you don’t mean to say—’

‘It’s gone,’ announced Temple quietly.

‘Gone!’ echoed Steve. ‘But, Paul, it couldn’t possibly—’

‘You didn’t make a mistake about those postcards, Temple?’ suggested Sir Graham.

‘No. I had the letter when I arrived here. I’m absolutely certain of that. When I was unpacking, I changed into this old sports coat and left the other on the chair.’

‘That letter’s important, Temple,’ said Sir Graham in some anxiety. ‘It’s desperately important, and we’ve got to get it back.’

Temple’s brain was working quickly.

‘Those men – van Draper and the fellow who called himself Major Lindsay – they must have contacted someone here at the “Royal Gate”…’

Forbes nodded thoughtfully.

‘Who did you see when you arrived?’ he asked.

‘A porter helped us with the luggage, then Weston and his wife brought us upstairs.’

Temple carefully examined the contents of every pocket without result.

‘Paul, there’s Doctor Steiner,’ Steve suddenly reminded him. ‘He came in here after Weston and—’

‘By Timothy, yes! And he stood over by that chair for quite a while. But how could he possibly know—’

‘Steiner?’ put in Forbes. ‘Who exactly is Doctor Steiner?’

‘He’s a Professor of Philosophy at Philadelphia University,’ said Temple. ‘We met him on the Golden Clipper, coming over here.’

‘What’s he doing in Scotland?’

‘He’s on holiday. As soon as he spotted our names in the register he came up here.’ Temple paused and puckered his brow.

‘By Timothy! I’m a prize jackass if you like!’ he ejaculated.

‘What do you mean?’ asked Steve.

‘Steve, don’t you remember? I didn’t sign a register. The book was full. Weston made me sign on a sheet of notepaper. He put the paper in a drawer, so I don’t see how Steiner could possibly have—’

‘Then he knew you were coming here,’ cried Forbes. ‘He was waiting for you – waiting for the letter!’

‘Just a minute. Not so fast, Sir Graham,’ softly interposed Temple.

‘Why should Doctor Steiner, a respectable university professor, want that letter?’ asked Steve.

‘I presume you have only his word for his identity,’ said Forbes. ‘What’s his nationality?’

‘Oh, obviously Austrian, I should say. Most probably Viennese,’ said Temple.

‘Well, it seems a remarkable coincidence that he should be staying here the very night that Noel Hammond—’

‘Who is Noel Hammond?’ demanded Temple. ‘And who’s this man Draper? And who the devil is—’

‘I can’t tell you now, Temple,’ snapped Forbes. ‘Come to my room after dinner—no, I’ll come down here. It will be safer. We must get that letter back – no matter what happens we must get that letter!’

He regarded them both with a grim smile. ‘I think you will be interested to know why I came to Scotland instead of going to the South of France.’

He turned to the door. ‘I’ll see you both here, in about an hour.’

‘Yes, all right,’ agreed Temple.

After Forbes had departed, Temple carefully folded his coat and placed it in a drawer. Neither spoke for a minute or two, then Steve suggested they should go down to dinner. Her husband was busy unlocking a suitcase, and did not appear to be listening.

‘Is anything the matter, Steve?’ he said suddenly.