“For all you know, Steve,” continued Sir Graham, “this girl you saw might have been Mrs. Trevelyan. You’ve never met her, have you?”
“Well, no . . . but Paul described her to me, and I don’t think—”
“Don’t be too sure, Steve – you know how women can change their appearance,” said Forbes.
“Well if it was Mrs. Trevelyan, she’s certainly had a busy evening,” commented Steve, “what with that little surprise she prepared for us earlier on.”
Forbes looked up quickly.
“What’s all this?”
Temple frowned. He had purposely refrained from telling Forbes and Crane about their adventure that evening because he knew that such information would most likely result in Forbes interviewing or even arresting Mrs. Trevelyan, and he wanted to let events develop naturally for another day or so. However, he reflected that the policeman’s report about the bomb explosion would be sure to reach Sir Graham fairly soon, and any further concealment would be impossible. Temple smiled reassuringly at Steve, who was looking rather guilty, then said, “I had an appointment tonight with Mrs. Trevelyan at a house in Lancaster Gate.”
“The devil you did!” whistled Forbes. “What time was that?”
“Half past ten.”
“And what happened, Mr. Temple?” demanded Crane curiously.
A whimsical smile curved round Temple’s lips. “I took Steve along to make the lady’s acquaintance. But instead we were introduced to a time-bomb! You’ll get a notification about it in the morning, I should imagine, Inspector.”
“Good heavens!” said Forbes.
“And not only a time-bomb, Sir Graham,” pursued Temple, “but a rather ingenious little trick to keep us sitting on top of it. Someone had fixed an automatic gramophone in one of the bedrooms, so that we should hear music and presume the house was occupied. Then, while we were waiting—”
“You’d stand in the hall and get the full force—” put in Crane.
“Yes,” nodded Temple, “but how did you know that the time- bomb was in the hall, Inspector?”
“I—I—just guessed,” replied Crane, somewhat taken aback.
“And what happened?” put in Forbes. “You say the damn thing went off?”
“I managed to fling it into the front garden – just in time, I should imagine. It must have blown out every window in that side of the house.”
“It was horrible!” said Steve almost in a whisper. Forbes went over and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
“This settles one thing at any rate!” he announced firmly. “I’ll get out a warrant for Mrs. Trevelyan’s arrest first thing in the morning.”
Temple sighed.
“No, Sir Graham, I beg of you not to do that,” he said quietly.
“But you can’t overlook a damnable thing like that, Temple!”
“All the same, Sir Graham, I’m pretty certain if you gave it another day or two well – she might even lead us to Rex.”
“Then you don’t think she is Rex, in spite of all this?” demanded Forbes incredulously.
“I’d prefer to say she is a first-class contact with Rex,” replied Temple thoughtfully. “And we have to step very carefully or Rex will quite deliberately destroy that contact – that’s my theory at any rate. I’ll admit that Mrs. Trevelyan is in a highly suspicious position at the moment, but I still think we’ve got to go carefully.”
“I agree with Mr. Temple, sir,” said Crane rather surprisingly. “It wouldn’t be a wise move to arrest her – not simply on a charge of attempted murder.”
The Assistant Commissioner mused upon this for a little while. At last he turned to Temple.
“Where did you say this house was?”
“Forty-nine, Marshall House Terrace, Lancaster Gate.”
“I expect there’ll be a report when we get back, sir,” said Crane.
“I’d like to see it, if you don’t mind,” put in Temple.
“Yes—of course,” nodded Forbes. “I’ll ‘phone you in the morning. Are you ready, Crane?”
Temple went out with his guests and Steve rather absently gathered the glasses and placed them on a tray, ready to he washed. Then she replaced the bottle and decanter in the sideboard. When Temple returned, she said:
“I don’t think I care for that man Crane very much.”
“More feminine intuition?” he smiled.
“How long has he been at the Yard?”
“About six years. Has quite a reputation as a go-getter. Shouldn’t wonder if he’s in the running for the A.C.’s job when Forbes retires. Why don’t you like him?”
Steve shook her head. “I don’t quite know. Maybe it’s just that he’s got an unfortunate manner.”
“H’m, that’s one way of putting it,” mused Temple, who had pondered several times that evening if Crane had anything up his sleeve, and if so whether he was holding it back in order to obtain some special kudos for the discovery of Rex. It was nearly two o’clock now, but Temple did not feel the least bit sleepy.
“What do you make of this Rex affair, Steve?” he asked suddenly.
She looked at him in some surprise. “I don’t know what to make of it,” she replied in a slightly bewildered tone. “Sometimes, I think that Rex must be a—well—homicidal maniac. Why should he want to murder Sir Ernest Cranbury and Norma Rice?”
“It’s just a question of finding the motive,” said Temple softly, almost to himself.
“Motive?” repeated Steve. “Have you hit upon the least trace of a motive?”
“Perhaps not. But that isn’t to say there isn’t one,” he replied enigmatically. He picked up a large volume, a French book on criminology, and began to turn the pages absent-mindedly.
“Well, I think I’ll go to bed,” said Steve.
He looked up. “No, don’t go for a minute or two,” he said casually. “She should be here any second now.”
Steve turned in the doorway. “You’re expecting somebody at this time?” she demanded incredulously.
“Yes,” he replied quietly. “I’m expecting Mrs. Trevelyan.”
Steve came back and leaned on an armchair. “You really mean that Mrs. Trevelyan is coming here – at two in the morning?”
“Well, I shall be very surprised if she doesn’t.”
‘’But, Paul—how do you know?”
“Because I caught a glimpse of her – in a large car at the end of the mews. It was there when I got back with Sir Graham.”
“A blue car with disc wheels?” put in Steve quickly.
“That’s it.”
“Why, it was there when I got back here. She must have been expecting you – and she was probably afraid to come in when she saw Sir Graham and the inspector. And, Paul—”
“Yes, darling?”
“She wasn’t the woman in brown, was she?”
The sound of the front-door buzzer vibrated in the hall outside.
“You’ll have a chance to see for yourself,” murmured Temple softly as he went out to open the door. Before he reached it, the buzzer sounded again.
When Temple opened the door, Mrs. Trevelyan stood there, nervously clutching her handbag, and obviously very much on edge. Her mouth was working in tiny spasmodic jerks and her eyes were unnaturally bright. Temple gave no sign that he was in any way surprised to see her.
“Mr. Temple—I’ve got to have a talk with you!” she began in an unnatural, somewhat hysterical voice.
“Come in, Mrs. Trevelyan. I’ve been expecting you.” He stood politely aside and closed the door after her. In the hall, she looked round for a moment, then moved to the lighted doorway of the lounge. She started perceptibly as she saw Steve, who was standing over by the fireplace.
“Good evening,” said Steve quietly.
“Good evening, Mrs. Temple,” mumbled the visitor somewhat uncertainly.
“Please sit down, Mrs. Trevelyan,” said Temple in a pleasant voice, as he indicated a vacant armchair. “Would you like a drink?She shook
her head.
“No, I haven’t a great deal of time, and—”
For a moment she hesitated then, “Mr. Temple . . . would you mind drawing those curtains, please?”
“No one can see you from the street,” he reassured her.
“But the flats opposite—I’m so frightened—” she clasped her hands nervously.
“All right, darling, I’ll do it,” put in Steve, going over to the windows and carefully drawing the curtains.
“Oh—thank you—thank you so much, Mrs. Temple.”
Mrs. Trevelyan seemed perilously near to tears. She swallowed hard and said, “I’m most terribly sorry about what happened tonight at Marshall House Terrace.”
“So are we,” said Temple drily.
“I can’t tell you how upset I am—”
“It very nearly upset us too. However, it might have been worse.”
Steve swung round and levelled her keen brown eyes upon those of the visitor. “Did you know there was a time-bomb in the house?” she demanded,
Mrs. Trevelyan clenched her hands.
‘No!” she replied desperately. “No, I swear I didn’t. I hatched you both go into the house – I was at the other end of the road. When the bomb exploded I...I didn’t know what to do!”
She sank into a chair and burst into tears. Temple looked across at Steve. After a minute or two, Mrs. Trevelyan seemed to recover.
Temple and Steve were both unable to convince themselves as to whether their visitor’s grief was genuine or not, and consequently experienced several uncomfortable moments.
Mrs. Trevelyan calmed down a little and dabbed her eyes with a small lace handkerchief. Then Temple began to speak very slowly and seriously.
“I want you to listen very carefully, Mrs. Trevelyan, because the position is pretty serious, as I think you realise. About six months ago, a man called Richard East was murdered by Rex. A visiting-card was found on him, and on the back of the card was the name ‘Mrs. Trevelyan’.”
She sat upright with a jerk.
“I don’t believe it!” she cried.
“Soon afterwards,” continued Temple evenly, “there came the Norma Rice affair. You remember that?”
She nodded. “She was found dead in a railway compartment, wasn’t she?”
“Exactly. And scribbled in the back of a diary belonging to Norma Rice was the name ‘Mrs. Trevelyan’.”
She caught her breath, then rounded on him.
‘’You’re lying! This is some sort of plot against me—”
“I haven’t finished yet, Mrs. Trevelyan,” went on Temple quietly, taking his wallet from his pocket and extracting a slip of paper. “You see this?”
Her eyes were almost starting out of her head as she snatched the paper.
“My name . . . again . . .” she whispered hoarsely. “Where did you get it?”
“The paper was found on Sir Ernest Cranbury.”
“Oh, my God!” There was a note of helplessness in her voice. She let fall the paper and it fluttered gently to the carpet. Temple picked it up and carefully restored it to his wallet. Mrs. Trevelyan had fallen back into a corner of her chair, and her face was very white.
“Paul—she’s going to faint!” cried Steve in alarm.
Mrs. Trevelyan gripped the arms of the chair and seemed to make an effort to recover.
“I’ll be all right,” she gulped.
“Let me get you a drink,” said Temple, crossing to the sideboard.
Mrs. Trevelyan looked up at Steve and essayed a feeble smile.
“I really am sorry about tonight, Mrs. Temple. It was ghastly. Were you hurt at all?”
“No,” replied Steve, “thanks to my husband.”
“I’m so glad,” said Mrs. Trevelyan, looking quite relieved. “If anything had happened to you, I—I—”
Temple came across with her drink, and she sipped it gratefully.
“Is that better?” he asked presently.
She nodded, and handed him back the glass.
He hesitated a moment, then said, “I suppose you know Sir Graham Forbes was here a little while ago with Inspector Crane?”
“Yes, I saw them leave.”
“Then you know Sir Graham?” he queried at once.
“Only by sight. I’ve never actually met him.”
He toyed with her empty glass.
“You know, Mrs. Trevelyan, Sir Graham isn’t a fool by any means.”
“Well?” she said, a note of challenge creeping back into her voice.
“Well, I think you might be interested to know that Sir Graham has a pretty strong theory about you.”
“You mean he thinks I’m Rex,” she put in quickly.
Temple paused, then said, “Yes.”
Her face was set in more severe lines, but she relaxed once again and finally said in a comparatively quiet voice: “Do you think I’m Rex, Mr. Temple?”
Temple thrust his hands deep into his trouser pockets, leaned against the mantelpiece and looked down at her. “When I investigate a case, Mrs. Trevelyan,” he said, “I always make a point of trying to find out right at the very beginning what exactly it’s all about. Sometimes, this isn’t quite so simple as it seems. Take this particular case, for instance. Why did Rex murder Richard East? Why did Rex murder Norma Rice and Sir Ernest Cranbury? There doesn’t appear to have been a motive – on the face of it the murders are haphazard and unconnected. But I’m quite sure that there is a motive, Mrs. Trevelyan, and I’m equally sure that you know what that motive is!”
He spoke the last words with quiet emphasis. Once more, she foiled into a corner of the armchair and was silent for some seconds, her fingers pulling at the dainty handkerchief in her nervous apprehension. At last, she looked into Temple’s eyes and said quietly: “Yes, I know.” There was still a note of desperation in her voice as she continued.”About six or seven months ago I got the first letter from Rex. I thought it was some sort of joke, but the next letter soon dispelled the idea. There were things in that letter that I imagined were known to no one.”
“And Rex asked for money?” prompted Temple quietly.
“Three thousand pounds. He said if I didn’t pay the money, then that would be the end of my secret.”
“So you paid the three thousand.”
Mrs. Trevelyan sighed.
“Yes, I paid. But not immediately. It was only after the murder of Richard East that I lost my nerve.”
Temple seemed slightly puzzled.
“But how could you associate Richard East with your own affairs. Was there any connection?”
She shook her head. “Not directly. You see, Rex sent me a list of eight names. Richard East was the first name on the list. Then I knew that East was murdered because he refused to be blackmailed.”
There was a surge of agonised terror in Mrs. Trevelyan’s low tones. Steve could not repress a subdued murmur of sympathy. Temple was turning over in his mind this latest bit of information; it seemed to tally quite consistently with most of his theories. What was more, this list of names gave him a definite line of investigation.
“And after you had paid the money? I take it that was not the end of the matter?” he said.
“I didn’t hear any more until about three months ago. Then I received a note – it was on my desk one morning. It simply asked for certain information about one of Doctor Kohima’s patients.”
“Did the letter end with the usual threats?”
“No. But it was written in a sort of dictatorial style, as if it took for granted that I should do as I was asked.”
“And did you?”
“Yes,” she said quietly. “And I’ve been terrified ever since that it would cost me my job. As you know, Mr. Temple, it’s a very serious matter to divulge the secrets of one’s patients, but I was so terrified – it was soon after Norma Rice’s death. It was like the hand of Nemesis drawing nearer and nearer . . . I lay awake night after night . . .”
“And I take it that Rex told you to arran
ge our meeting tonight? Was that so?” She nodded helplessly.
“Yes. The note was on my desk this morning when I got to the office. I’m almost afraid to look at my desk these last few weeks – in fact, it takes a tremendous effort for me to go at all. If Doctor Kohima weren’t so kind, I’d have resigned months ago.”
“These notes come through the post?”
“Oh yes, they have a West End postmark.”
“H’m, that doesn’t convey much.”
She took a small envelope from her bag and also a sheet of cream-laid notepaper.
“I brought this morning’s note with me – and here is the list of names—”
Temple read the note and passed it to Steve. Then he took the other paper, on which were typed eight names:
Richard East
Norma Rice
Conrad Stephens
Felicity Mayne
Ernest Cranbury
James Barton
Norman Steele
Barbara Trevelyan
Steve looked over his shoulder and whispered, “The first five names, Paul ... they’re all ... dead.”
“They’ve all been murdered,” said Mrs. Trevelyan. “And now there are only three names left. Goodness knows how long before there are only two and then—”
“Don’t upset yourself, Mrs. Trevelyan,” urged Temple. “We’re catching up on Rex pretty fast, you know. It may be that Messrs. Barton and Steele are playing for time, too. Maybe they’ve followed in your footsteps and agreed to play ball—”
“I had no choice, Mr. Temple,” said Mrs. Trevelyan earnestly. “It almost ruined me to find that three thousand pounds – all I have now is my salary – I even had to sell my home. But if that secret of mine had been made public, well, there’d have been nothing much to live for, I do assure you.”
Temple thoughtfully studied the papers she had given him while Steve and Mrs. Trevelyan carried on a whispered conversation. He wondered just how far Mrs. Trevelyan could be trusted. She seemed sincere enough, and there was no mistaking the fact that her visit had called for a considerable effort on her part. But there was always the possibility that Rex was offering Mrs. Trevelyan as bait to effect a large-scale coup. During a pause in the conversation between Steve and their visitor, Temple said, ‘’This information you obtained about one of Doctor Kohima’s patients, Mrs. Trevelyan – you sent it direct to Rex?”
Send for Paul Temple Again! Page 8
