“I say, couldn’t we draw the back blind?” he suggested to Temple, but the novelist shook his head.
“Better not risk it,” he advised.
They were soon on an arterial road, and the car was roaring along at seventy miles an hour. Temple noticed Sir Graham’s head drop forward once or twice as if he were dozing.
After a time they left the arterial road and encountered a somewhat rougher surface, but Lathom drove on without slackening speed. Presently, he drew up at some crossroads so that the beam from the headlamps could pick up the directions from a signpost; then the car roared on once more. Temple locked his hands around his knees and silently reviewed the recent events in the Rex case. The most sinister aspect of the whole affair, he decided, was the fact that Rex seemed to have so many people utterly in his power and was liable to make use of them in so many ways to distract suspicion from himself. He would sacrifice them quite relentlessly . . . which made Temple wonder if Rex could be a woman after all. Surely no woman could be as callous as that. Even Iris Archer[1], that glittering actress with the cruel mouth and completely amoral outlook on life, would have drawn the line somewhere . . .
Temple was suddenly conscious that the car was slowly coming to a standstill, and looking up he could see trees overhanging the road. Lathom applied the handbrake and then switched off the engine.
“This is the place,” he said, in a voice which was almost a whisper. There was a further clicking of switches and the car lights were extinguished. Then they heard him fumble for the attache-case in the front seat. The car door opened and he got out, closing the door after him. Then he opened the back door somewhat ostentatiously, placed the case on the seat and slammed the door noisily. They heard his footsteps receding into the distance.
“Well, that’s that!” muttered Forbes in a low tone. “He’s certainly seen it through so far.”
Temple shifted into a slightly more comfortable position, and Forbes followed suit. His left foot was badly cramped and felt quite numb. “What time do you make it?” he whispered.
Temple glanced at the luminous dial of his wrist-watch.
“Nearly half past ten.”
After the continuous noise of the journey, the silence now seemed intense. They could even hear an occasional leaf falling from the trees overhead and the swish of wings as a bat dived through the air above them.
“What wouldn’t I give for a cigarette!” sighed Forbes.
“We daren’t risk it,” replied Temple.
Forbes fingered his silver cigarette-case, snapping it open and shut. Suddenly he sat up with a jerk and clutched Temple’s arm.
“Listen!”
Very faintly in the distance they could hear the throbbing of an approaching car engine.
“It’s coming up from the village,” whispered Temple. “It couldn’t be one of your men, I suppose?”
“No, they were ordered to park in the side lane half a mile away. They were to keep off this road till I gave the signal.” The car was much nearer now. Temple and Forbes were almost holding their breath when it passed the turning into the lane. But it gave no sign of stopping, and the beat of the engine faded into the night.
“One of the farmers been down to the local,” guessed Temple.
“No,” snapped Forbes. “Wait!”
Again they sat in silence for some seconds. Presently they heard a very soft whistle, which was repeated twice.
“One of Bradley’s men,” said Forbes quickly. “That was the signal we arranged.”
“Then the car must have stopped further along,” murmured Temple.
Again the whistle came clearly through the night. This time only once.
“That means stand by for immediate action,” muttered Forbes. “But I can’t hear anything.”
“The leaves would probably deaden anyone’s footsteps,” Temple pointed out.
Forbes carefully took his revolver from his hip-pocket, and Temple followed suit. Temple also placed his pencil-torch in his outside coat pocket, so that he could snatch it easily. Once more they listened, and this time managed to detect the steady rustle of leaves. Then a small twig snapped.
“Keep down—right down,” advised Temple. “Don’t move till the door opens.”
They crouched in silence while the stealthy footsteps drew nearer. Suddenly they stopped. Again there was no sound except an occasional falling leaf and the distant bark of a dog.
Just when Temple and Forbes felt they could bear the suspense no longer, they heard the handle of the back door of the car gently turning. As the door opened, the whole landscape seemed to change as dramatically as the denouement in a sensational film.
Police whistles sounded, the beams of four powerful torches picked out the car, there was a trampling of heavy men in the undergrowth.
“Don’t move!” shouted Forbes, levelling his revolver at the figure by the car.
“Steady, Sir Graham!” exclaimed Temple, restraining him.
At that moment, the beams from the torches focused up the figure of a woman.
“Don’t shoot!” she cried in terror, looking round like a trapped animal as the circle of men relentlessly closed upon her.
“What the devil—” Forbes was beginning, when Temple interposed smoothly.
“Sir Graham, I don’t think you’ve met this lady. Allow me to introduce Mrs. Trevelyan!”
Subsequent events proved that it was one thing to arrest Mrs. Trevelyan, but quite another to persuade her to give any lucid explanation of her recent actions. She was obviously in a highly emotional state, bordering on hysteria, and the Yard men were somewhat bewildered by her extravagant statements which seemed more than a trifle improbable.
“Leave me alone! Please—please leave me alone!” she begged for the twentieth time, and with a helpless shrug Forbes nodded to Temple to see if he could make any further headway.
The novelist pulled up a chair next to hers and said very earnestly:
“Mrs. Trevelyan, I’ve been very patient with you up to now, and you must realise that we only want to help you. We have brought you to Scotland Yard as much for your own safety as—”
“Leave me alone!” she cried again. “I’ve told you all I know!”
“You have told us practically nothing!” retorted Temple in a firmer tone. “If you would only come out into the open, I’m sure you could give us enough information to enable us to arrest Rex – and what’s more you would get a free pardon for any—”
“I tell you I am Rex!” she screamed at him. “Now will you leave me alone!”
“You make that statement before five witnesses, Mrs. Trevelyan,” Forbes reminded her.
“I don’t care. It’s true, I tell you!”
“That’s all we want to know, Temple,” said Forbes briskly. He went across and spoke into the telephone. “Put me through to Lord Flexdale’s private number,” he ordered.
“Just a minute, Sir Graham,” interrupted TempleForbes recalled the operator and cancelled the call. “What is it now, Temple?” he demanded impatiently.
“There are several things I want Mrs. Trevelyan to clear up,” said Temple in an even tone. He turned to the woman crouching in the armchair.
“You say you’re Rex, Mrs. Trevelyan,” he began.
“How many more times!” she almost screamed. “I’m Rex— Rex—Rex!”
“Very well,” replied Temple smoothly. Then perhaps you can tell me why you came to my flat that night and confessed about the affair in Marshall House Terrace. Why did you tell me about the Royal Falcon Hotel at Canterbury? And why did you—”
“Oh, please!” she broke in tearfully. “Please don’t ask me any more questions.” Deep despairing sobs shook her slight frame.
But Temple was not to be denied.
“I know you are desperately distressed about this matter,” he continued gently. “But you’ve got to pull yourself together, and you must tell us the whole truth. Otherwise, you know what will happen. You will be tried and found guilty.
And then one morning they’ll take you out into a small, dark courtyard. And he’ll be waiting for you, Mrs. Trevelyan – the public hangman.”
She shuddered and could not conceal the expression of sheer terror in her eyes. Then she gripped the arms of her chair.
“You can’t frighten me!” she cried defiantly. “You can’t frighten me, Mr. Temple. I tell you I’m Rex! I’m Rex! I’m Rex!”
Temple looked at Sir Graham with a helpless gesture.
“Very well, Mrs. Trevelyan,” said Forbes quietly. “We shall require you to sign a statement to that effect if it’s really true.”
“Yes, yes, I’ll sign it!” she replied wildly.
Forbes was about to lift the receiver to telephone Lord Flexdale when the door opened and a sergeant announced: “There’s a Doctor Kohima to see you, sir.”
Mrs. Trevelyan leapt to her feet.
“I don’t want to see him!” she cried urgently. “Don’t let him in here!”
But it was obvious that Doctor Kohima was already at the door. He dodged neatly under the outstretched arm of the sergeant, and exclaimed angrily:
“What is the meaning of this? What are you doing with my secretary?”
The sergeant grabbed him by the shoulder, but at a nod from Forbes let him go. Mrs. Trevelyan cowered in her chair sobbing.
Sir Graham eyed his visitor with considerable curiosity, and said:
“Now Doctor Kohima, what seems to be the trouble?”
“You may well ask, sir!” snorted the doctor. “Why is my secretary being detained in this manner here at Scotland Yard?”
“How did you know you would find her here?” put in Temple quite calmly.
Kohima swung round on him. “If you please, Mr. Temple,” he snapped, “for once I will ask the questions.”
“Certainly, Doctor,” replied Temple imperturbably, “but I’m not guaranteeing you’ll get the right answers!”
“Doctor—I beg of you, please don’t interfere!” cried Mrs. Trevelyan tearfully.
Kohima went over to her chair and stood looking down at her for some seconds without speaking. Then he said slowly: “You look ill, my dear. What has happened to you?” His voice was gentle and full of solicitude.
“It’s not surprising that Mrs. Trevelyan looks ill,” Temple informed him. “Apart from spending last night in gaol, she insists upon defying us at every turn.”
“In gaol!” repeated Doctor Kohima in a horrified tone. “Are you joking?”
“Not that we’re aware of,” replied Forbes drily.
“But what does this mean?” protested Kohima.
“To the best of our knowledge,” growled Forbes, “it means that Mrs. Trevelyan is Rex.”
“What!” exclaimed Kohima in complete astonishment. “Are you all mad?”
“Better ask Mrs. Trevelyan,” said Temple.
“But I’ve known her all my life. She’s no more Rex than I am!”
“That may be so, Doctor Kohima,” replied Temple politely. ‘But she tells us she is willing to make a statement to that effect, and to sign such a statement, so what possible reply can there be to that?”
“A very simple reply,” retorted the doctor. “Mrs. Trevelyan is not in a fit state of health to sign any such statement at the moment.”
Forbes looked across at Temple with an expression of exasperation.
“Now look here, Doctor,” he snapped, “there’s nothing wrong with Mrs. Trevelyan, apart from a guilty conscience.”
“And 1 say there is very much that is wrong,” insisted Kohima, his light accent becoming much more noticeable in his excitement. “Mrs. Trevelyan is tired and exhausted and emotionally unbalanced. Under such circumstances, cross-questioning broaches upon third-degree methods, and is grossly unfair upon Mrs. Trevelyan.”
“I resent that implication,” said Forbes angrily.
“Do not misunderstand me, Sir Graham,” said Kohima quickly. “I am not accusing you of deliberately taking advantage of Mrs. Trevelyan’s condition. I am merely trying to tell you that in this state she is liable to confess to anything.”
“Doctor, please leave me alone!” begged Mrs. Trevelyan once more, as distressed as ever.
But Doctor Kohima was not to be deterred.
“You must further understand, Sir Graham, that Mrs. Trevelyan is not only my secretary; she is also a patient of mine, and as her medical adviser I must insist—”
“You insist on what, Doctor Kohima?” demanded Forbes in a faintly irritated tone.
“I insist that she rests – if only for an hour. Obviously, she had very little sleep last night, her nerves are completely upset.”
“I have no objection to Mrs. Trevelyan resting,” replied Forbes bluntly, “after she has made her statement—and signed it!”
“No!” snapped Kohima. “I must insist that she makes no statement unless she is allowed to rest for at least two hours.”
Forbes sighed.
“Very well,” he agreed at last. “I’ve never forced anybody to sign a statement without every opportunity to think it over.”
“But there’s nothing to think over,” protested Mrs. Trevelyan. “I can’t rest! I didn’t get a wink of sleep last night and I’m more wide awake than ever. I’ll sign anything if you’ll only leave me alone.”
Kohima went and stood over her, resting a hand on either shoulder and looking down into her eyes. After a while, he took her elbow and led her without speaking over to the settee near the window.
“Why did you come here?” she whispered tensely. You know they suspect—”
“Look at me,” he interrupted in a quiet but compelling tone, as he passed his finger tips lightly across her forehead. “Look at me, Barbara . . . poor girl, you’re worn out—”
“Yes,” she murmured, “I am tired . . . so tired . . .”
She tried ineffectually to avoid his piercing dark eyes.
“You are not afraid of me,” he murmured soothingly. “There is no need—”
She was breathing a little more easily, but there was still the look of terror in her eyes.
“No questions, please Charles,” she whispered imploringly.
“No questions, my dear,” he replied reassuringly, his eyes still focused intently upon hers.
“It was good of you to come, Charles,” she murmured in a relieved tone. “But you mustn’t get mixed up in this – don’t let them drag you into it... promise!”
“Don’t talk . . . don’t excite yourself,” he ordered. “Just let yourself relax completely.” He continued to smooth her forehead with his right hand.
“You are still tired?” he asked presently, noticing that the muscles of her face were sagging a little.
“Very tired.”
“But everything is going to be all right now,” he declared very slowly, as if he were talking to a child.
“Everything is going to be all right,” she repeated mechanically as if she were already half asleep.
“There is no need to worry about anything,” he continued in the same deliberate tones, and again she repeated the words after him. He placed a cushion for her head, and slowly allowed her to sink back upon it. In a very low voice, he murmured:
“Gently, Barbara . . . you can close your eyes now . . . you’re almost asleep . . . that’s it...”
Her left arm fell lifelessly to her side and she was apparently asleep. But Kohima watched her for quite five minutes before he turned to Temple and Forbes, who had been talking in very low tones.
“So!” said Kohima almost to himself, and looked up at Temple, who had been watching him with the merest flicker of a smile.
“Is this so amusing, my friend?” asked the doctor.
“I was just thinking, Doctor,” said Temple quietly, “that you can lead a horse to the water, but you cannot make him drink.”
“Now what do you mean by that, Mr. Temple?” asked Kohima.
“I think you have a pretty good idea, Doctor Kohima,” replied Temple significantly.
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br /> It was the doctor’s turn to smile.
“Perhaps I have, Mr. Temple,” he said softly. “I must go now, if you will permit. I have several patients waiting for me – but you know my address if I am wanted. In any case, I should like to be present when Mrs. Trevelyan is questioned again.”
“I’m sure that can be arranged, Doctor,” agreed Temple pleasantly, rather to Forbes’ surprise.
After the doctor had gone, Forbes asked:
“What was the idea, Temple?”
Temple lighted a cigarette.
“I don’t see that Kohima can do much harm if he’s here when Mrs. Trevelyan talks—”
“But supposing he’s implicated,” suggested Forbes.
“That gives us a better chance of catching him.”
“He might even be Rex,” persisted Forbes.
“Then if he comes to us, it saves us the trouble of going out after him.”
“H’m, may be something in that,” conceded Forbes. “What are we going to do about her?” He indicated the sleeping figure on the settee.
“I suggest you leave her just where she is. My guess is that she’ll probably sleep till Kohima comes back. I think we should hold everything till then. Meanwhile, I’ll go home for lunch, I think. What about coming along?”
Forbes reluctantly shook his head.
“I’d like to, Temple, but I’ve a feeling I should be here just in case anything else breaks, or that damn fool Flexdale rings up and wants to arrange another broadcast.”
Temple grinned.
“All right, Sir Graham. I’ll see you later. Give me a ring at the flat if anything sensational develops.”
When Temple got back he found Steve was beginning to worry at his prolonged absence. Also, it appeared there was a visitor patiently waiting for him.
“Anyone we know?” he asked.
“Yes, darling, it’s that little Welshman again.”
“Good lord! Davis!” murmured Temple. “What is it this time?”
“I don’t know,” replied Steve. “He’s in the lounge. I gave him your new book to read.”
“Then he’s probably asleep by now!”
Send for Paul Temple Again! Page 15
