Paul Temple and the Madison Case

‘Oh, thanks …’

Temple put on his dressing-gown and thrust his feet into slippers. Steve’s voice stopped him when he was at the door.

‘Paul.’

‘Yes?’

‘I shouldn’t wear the tie, darling.’

Sir Graham Forbes was the kind of man who seemed to fill any room he was in. Broad shoulders, a trim moustache and bushy eyebrows enhanced his commanding features. He was old enough to treat women with an avuncular protectiveness to which they reacted favourably. Steve always flirted with him shamelessly, knowing that he would never overstep the bounds of correctness.

‘Hello, Steve!’ he greeted her, as she came into the sitting-room a minute or two after Paul. The two men already had glasses of whisky in their hands. ‘My word, you do look well!’ His eyes ran appreciatively over the silk house-robe she had put on. ‘Are you glad to be home?’

‘Well, I don’t know, Sir Graham. It all depends what you’ve got up your sleeve!’

‘I haven’t got anything up my sleeve,’ Forbes protested, a little too emphatically. ‘So don’t worry, my dear!’

‘Well, Sir Graham, is this a social call?’ Temple asked, waving his guest to a chair.

‘Not exactly. I want some information.’ Forbes sipped his whisky appreciatively and put the glass down on a low table beside his chair. ‘When you were on the boat coming over from America did you meet a man called Portland – Sam Portland?’

Temple nodded. ‘Yes, we did.’

‘Did you see much of him?’

‘Well – I had quite a chat with him. As a matter of fact I was going to ’phone you. There’s something about Portland you ought to know.’

Steve was standing behind the sofa. ‘Don’t you think you ought to start the story at the beginning, darling?’ she suggested.

‘Well,’ Temple began, ‘we left America last Friday evening. I was feeling rather tired because I’d had a pretty hectic time. It was just after six o’clock when the boat sailed. Steve was on deck staring at the skyscrapers and waving a last farewell to New York …’

Sir Graham listened without interruption while Temple told him in detail what had occurred on the Princess Diana. He ended with an account of his conversation with Hubert Greene.

‘Did you speak to George Kelly?’

‘Yes. He confirmed Greene’s story. He said he’d actually seen the telex from Hubert Greene offering Portland his resignation.’

‘Did you ask him about Madison?’

‘He’d never heard of him.’

‘M’m.’ Forbes sounded sceptical about that. He picked up his glass and tipped his head back to empty it. Temple stood up to replenish both their glasses.

‘Sir Graham, how does Scotland Yard come into this?’

‘Just over a week ago one of my men – Chief Inspector James – received this note. Here we are, Steve, read it.’

Steve had seated herself on the end of the sofa. She reached over for the note and slowly read it out. ‘An American multi-millionaire called Sam Portland intends to visit England. He must be stopped from doing so – if he isn’t … a … murder … will … be … committed.’

‘Is there a signature?’ Temple asked.

‘No, it’s typed, darling. There’s no signature.’

‘At first we thought it was a hoax,’ Forbes said, recovering the note from Steve. ‘Then something came up which made James decide to take it seriously. He contacted New York. They checked up and told him that Portland apparently hadn’t the slightest intention of coming to England.’

‘He probably hadn’t at that time.’

‘We kept the file open but took no further action until we heard that Portland was on his way over here …’

‘… and had died of a heart attack,’ Temple finished for him.

‘Precisely. Naturally we obtained a list of passengers and when I saw your name on it I was confident you could fill us in. There will have to be an inquest, of course, even though the doctor appeared quite happy to sign a death certificate attributing the cause of death as … ‘Forbes paused as there came a knock on the door and Charlie poked his head in.

‘Excuse me, sir.’

‘What is it, Charlie?’ Temple asked with ill-concealed impatience.

‘There’s a Mr Greene to see you, sir. I didn’t say you was in.’

‘Surely it’s a bit late for a social call,’ Steve protested.

‘That’s all right, Charlie,’ Temple said with resignation. ‘I’ll see him.’

Steve stood up and adjusted her house-robe more carefully. ‘What can Greene want, Paul?’

‘We’ll soon see,’ Temple murmured. He just had time to put the whisky glasses away before Charlie showed the visitor in. ‘Hello, Greene! Come in! What can I do for you?’

Greene was taken aback to find his hosts in night attire. ‘I’m awfully sorry to disturb you, especially at this time of night, but …’ He was staring at Sir Graham, who had remained seated. ‘I beg your pardon, sir, but haven’t we met before?’

‘My name is Forbes,’ Sir Graham told him bluntly, as if that precluded any previous acquaintance.

‘This is Sir Graham Forbes of Scotland Yard,’ Temple explained tactfully.

‘Oh, I beg your pardon! I was under the impression that we’d met somewhere. How do you do, sir?’ Greene was ready to follow up the introduction with a handshake but Sir Graham made no move to respond in kind, contenting himself with a nod.

‘I think you’ve met my wife.’

‘Yes, we met at Southampton.’ Having been rebuffed once Greene did not offer to shake hands with Steve. ‘Good evening, Mrs Temple. Temple, I’ve just left Mrs Portland. She’s in a pretty bad way, I’m afraid, and she seems very upset about – well – what seems to me rather a trivial matter.’

‘What is Mrs Portland upset about?’

‘Well, it seems that somebody’s stolen Mr Portland’s watch-chain.’

‘Stolen his watch-chain?’ It was Sir Graham that spoke.

‘Yes.’

‘Was it very valuable?’