News of Paul Temple

‘I was afraid that you might be—someone else.’

Temple glanced up sharply. There was an honest, straight-forward look in the young man’s eyes, so he pursued the question no further.

‘Don’t worry about the letter. I’ll see that your friend gets it all right. It’s a straight road into the village, I gather?’

‘Perfectly. You can’t possibly go wrong. The “Royal Gate” is on the left-hand side, about halfway through.’

‘Thanks,’ said Temple, lifting the latch.

‘Ye’re forgetting your postcards,’ Mrs Moffat reminded him.

‘So I am,’ he smiled, picking up the envelope. ‘Good night!’

When the door had closed, David Lindsay turned to Mrs Moffat, who had been an interested spectator.

‘Mrs Moffat, I’m sorry to trouble you, but do you think I might use your ’phone?’

‘I’m very sorry, Mr Lindsay,’ she replied with great deliberation, ‘but the telephone’s out of order. It has been ever since yon storm started.’

This was obviously a blow to Lindsay.

‘I see,’ he murmured, wrinkling his forehead in some perplexity.

‘Ye can try it if ye like, of course,’ offered Mrs Moffat.

‘It won’t be any use, though. The wires must have broken somewhere.’

‘Yes, yes, all right,’ murmured Lindsay, whose thoughts were now obviously elsewhere.

‘If there’s anything I can do, Mr Lindsay—’

‘No, no, I’m afraid you can’t do anything. Thanks all the same.’ He wished her good night and departed. She went to the window and watched him until he was almost out of sight. Then she bolted the door cautiously, crossed to the telephone and picked up the old type earpiece.

‘Hello? I want Inverdale 74…Hello, is that you?’ Her voice was almost a whisper now. ‘Yes—he’s been here. Just left…No…no, I couldn’t. He gave a letter to a man who was—’ There was an interruption which obviously irritated her. ‘For God’s sake, listen to me,’ she snapped impatiently. ‘He gave the letter to a man who happened to be in the shop at the time…Yes—it was addressed to a Mr John Richmond at the “Royal Gate”.’

Suddenly Mrs Moffat replaced the receiver and permitted herself the luxury of a grim chuckle.

4

‘That young man seemed to be in rather a hurry,’ commented Steve, when Temple returned to the car.

He recounted what had happened in the little shop as they started rather cautiously on their way towards the village.

‘He saw the car about a quarter of a mile before we stopped,’ said Temple, after they had been travelling for about ten minutes.

‘Then why didn’t he stop us?’

‘Yes, that’s what I wanted to know,’ said Temple. ‘Apparently he was afraid we might be someone else.’

There was the sound of a motor horn behind them, and Temple glanced through his driving mirror to see a large Buick Tourer approaching at a reckless speed. For the second time the horn sounded with a note of urgency.

‘By Timothy, this fellow’s in a hurry,’ commented Temple, slowing down a little and drawing into the side.

‘He wants you to stop, darling,’ said Steve, who had been looking through the back window.

‘Stop?’ cried Temple in amazement.

‘Yes, he’s making signs.’

The Buick shot past them, took the middle of the road, and slowed down at once.

Two men emerged from the Buick and approached Temple’s car, which had now pulled up. The elder of the two, a well-dressed, dapper little man, came up to Temple with a smile of apology.

‘Really, sir, I must apologise for stopping you like this,’ he began, a shade too extravagantly.

‘If you want the road to Inverdale—’ put in Steve quite pleasantly.

‘Unfortunately, madam, we are not interested in the road to Inverdale.’

‘I think perhaps we had better introduce ourselves, Laurence,’ said the second man, a suntanned, fairly elderly individual, who seemed rather like a native of the district.

‘Why yes, of course,’ agreed his companion. ‘My name is van Draper. Doctor Laurence van Draper. This gentleman is Major Lindsay, a very close friend of mine. In fact, he is the father of that very excitable young man you met in the village – about ten minutes ago.’

‘I see,’ nodded Temple, who made no attempt to reciprocate where the introductions were concerned.

‘I believe I am correct in saying my son gave you a letter,’ proceeded Major Lindsay, whose real name was Guest.

Temple looked up quickly.

‘Yes, that’s quite true,’ he admitted.

‘The letter was addressed to a certain Mr John Richmond,’ continued the Major evenly.

‘Well?’

‘I should esteem it a favour,’ said Major Lindsay impressively, ‘if you would be good enough to give the letter to Doctor van Draper.’

Temple leaned back slightly and shrewdly surveyed the Major. There was silence for a few moments.

‘I’m sorry, Major,’ decided Temple at length, ‘but your son gave me explicit instructions that the letter was to be delivered to no one except Mr Richmond.’

‘I’m afraid your task will be very difficult, sir. You see, there is no such person as John Richmond.’

‘No such person?’ repeated Temple in some surprise.

Van Draper came forward.

‘Perhaps you’d better let me explain, Major.’ He placed an arm on the car window and addressed Temple. ‘David Lindsay, the man who gave you the letter, is unfortunately the victim of a rather peculiar – what shall we say – mental condition?’