Sir Graham paused. He was finding it hard to say exactly what he had in mind. Temple thought he knew what was coming, but not even Temple had guessed all that was in the Commissioner’s mind.
‘Chief Inspector Purley will be taking over Harvey’s duties when this business is over. He has done some very good work at the Yard, and we are making him a Super. But that won’t help us over the present business.’
Again the Commissioner paused. ‘I wonder,’ he went on at last, ‘I wonder if you would care to take an, er, an unofficial sort of appointment?’
Once again there was a slight pause before he continued. ‘Naturally, I can’t give you any official rank or standing, but personally I don’t see any reason why you yourself should not carry on with what Harvey started.’
Sir Graham Forbes had been staring straight ahead, watching the car’s passage through the country road on the way to ‘The Little General’.
‘How do you feel about it, Temple?’ he asked, at length.
For a moment or two Paul Temple did not reply, then at last he said, ‘It’s very good of you, Sir Graham.’
‘I shall tell Dale, of course,’ Sir Graham continued, ‘and any orders you have to make you can give directly through me, or if you prefer it, through Dale or Merritt. That puts the whole arrangement on a practical footing.’
‘Well, it’s very good of you to show this confidence in me,’ Temple replied. ‘I shall certainly do what I can. I think myself the arrangement should work fairly well.’
The two men fell silent. Temple sat considering his new position. A superintendent without rank or standing, a police chief without police experience, office, or salary, a detective who had to give his orders through an intermediary. Nevertheless, Sir Graham Forbes had given him the highest possible token of his appreciation.
They were still thinking over this new arrangement when the brakes shrieked, and the car skidded on the loose gravel to a stop outside the inn. Immediately both men leaped out and hurried up to a figure that loomed out of the darkness.
‘Anything to report, Turner?’ asked the Commissioner briskly.
‘No, sir.’
‘Has anyone entered the inn?’ Temple asked.
‘Not a soul, sir; I can’t understand it.’
Paul Temple took the Commissioner by the arm.
‘Come along, Sir Graham,’ he said quickly.
‘You know the signal, Turner,’ added the Commissioner. ‘Just in case we need you.’
‘Yes, sir.’
The Commissioner and the novelist strode towards the inn. Temple opened the door to the hall and led the way inside to the bar parlour.
‘The place seems deserted,’ remarked the Commissioner, as he looked around.
‘Yes,’ agreed Temple, after hesitating a moment. ‘I wonder if there’s anyone in the back parlour?’
‘We’ll soon find out!’ the Commissioner replied. He walked over to the flap in the counter, raised it, and walked through. He then opened the door leading to the back room, and looked inside.
‘It looks to me as if we’re on a wild goose chase,’ said Temple, as the Commissioner came back.
Sir Graham made no comment.
‘Where does this door lead to?’ he asked suddenly, indicating the other door behind the counter.
‘Oh, that leads outside, I think, into a sort of courtyard,’ Paul Temple explained. ‘You won’t find anything out there except pigeons.’
‘Well, where the devil is the room you were telling me about?’ asked the Commissioner. ‘Room 7?’
‘Yes,’ Temple replied slowly. ‘That’s what I want to know, Sir Graham.’
‘It can’t very well be upstairs, because of the passage leading from the house,’ remarked the Commissioner.
‘No.…It must be behind this panelling.’
Temple walked across the room to the wall and started thumping on it with his fist.
‘It sounds solid enough,’ remarked Sir Graham.
‘Yes, but there’s quite a gap between this parlour and the staircase. I reckon that’s where the room is.’
‘Yes, but how are we going to get into it? There must be a—’
‘Just a minute,’ Temple suddenly interrupted.
‘What is it?’ asked the Commissioner, after a short pause.
‘I thought I heard…’ Paul Temple started. ‘Listen!’ he exclaimed.
They could hear sounds from somewhere behind the wall. There were creaks, as if from footboards, then the clear noise of footsteps.
‘There’s someone behind the panelling!’ exclaimed Sir Graham.
‘Yes.’
Again they listened. Suddenly a knock was heard against the panelling. It was as if some ghostly hand were repeating the endeavours Temple had just been making.
‘That’s Dale!’ exclaimed the Commissioner.
‘Then, by Timothy, he’s been quick!’ Temple added.
The Commissioner nodded to him. Suddenly he shouted, ‘Is that you, Dale?’
Clearly, from somewhere behind the wall, they could hear the inspector.
‘Yes! Where are you?’
‘Knock on the wall, Dale!’ shouted Temple, by way of answer.
They listened, and once again they heard the thump on the wall.
‘He’s over here, I think,’ said the Commissioner.
Together they walked over to the spot which Sir Graham indicated.
‘There must be some way to—’ Temple broke off, bewildered by what he saw in front of him.
‘Look!’ exclaimed Sir Graham Forbes. ‘Look! The panel’s moving!’
It was true. Part of the actual panelling in the wall was slowly swinging backwards. Neither of them could have suspected its possibility, even from their close inspection of the wall.
‘He must have found the switch,’ remarked Temple, as Chief Inspector Dale appeared through the opening.
‘Hello, Sir Graham!’ smiled Dale. ‘There’s a room in here, sir; it seems…’
‘Yes,’ interrupted Temple, ‘that’s what we’re looking for.’
The inspector drew back into the room, followed by Temple and the Commissioner. The top of the panelling was not more than five feet high, and they had to bow their heads as they stepped into the room.
‘I was certainly lucky to find the switch for the panel,’ Dale remarked.
‘So…this…is Room 7!’ said Paul Temple, when they were safely inside.
‘Where’s the entrance from the house?’ asked the Commissioner.
‘Through that cupboard, sir,’ said Inspector Dale, pointing to a large cupboard built into a corner of the room. ‘There’s another panel. It leads down to the passage.’
‘Well, these people certainly picked a good hideout,’ remarked Temple. ‘Did you find anyone in the house, Dale?’ he asked.
‘No, sir. But on the small table in the hall I found this.’
He took a wallet from his pocket, and extracted a piece of pasteboard. It was a playing card. The knave of diamonds.
‘There’s something on the back, sir,’ added Dale, as Paul Temple looked at the card.
‘My God!’ he exclaimed, as he turned it over to read the message inscribed.
‘What does it say?’ the Commissioner asked.
‘It says, “Enter Paul Temple…Exit Louise…Harvey”.’
‘Exit…Louise Harvey,’ the Commissioner slowly repeated. ‘Temple!’ he exclaimed sharply, ‘we’ve got to find that girl!’
‘Sir Graham!’ said Dale suddenly.
‘What is it?’
‘There’s someone in the back parlour!’ said Dale excitedly. ‘Look, you can see his—’
Both Temple and Forbes had turned round and walked across to the door to see who it was. Suddenly Temple recognized the new arrival on the scene.
‘Why, it’s Merritt!’ he exclaimed. ‘Come in, Charles!’
‘Good Lord, Paul!’ exclaimed Merritt, staring with surprise at the open panel. ‘What the devil do you…?’ T
hen he caught sight of the Commissioner, and broke off. ‘Sir Graham!’ he ejaculated. ‘Good evening, sir.’
‘Evening, Merritt. What are you doing here?’
‘I came down to see Mr. Temple, sir,’ he explained. ‘His man told me he was at “The Little General” and—’ He stopped, then added slowly, ‘Well, it’s lucky you’re here, too, sir.’
‘Why, what is it, Merritt?’ the Commissioner asked.
‘I’m afraid I’ve got bad news, sir!’
‘Bad news?’
‘It’s Radcliffe and Chambers, of Malvern, sir. They rang through this evening, and…’
‘Radcliffe and Chambers?’ Temple interrupted. ‘You mean the jewellery people?’
‘Yes.’
‘Merritt!’ exclaimed the Commissioner, with sudden alarm, ‘You don’t mean…?’
‘Yes, Sir Graham,’ Inspector Merritt replied. ‘£12,000 worth,’ he added succinctly.
‘Twelve thousand—’ Sir Graham whistled with astonishment. ‘Good Lord, Merritt, why—’
‘When did this happen?’ asked Paul Temple quickly.
‘About six o’clock,’ Merritt replied. ‘Apparently a man went into the shop and…’ He suddenly broke off and felt in the breast pocket of his coat. He pulled out an envelope of buff-coloured paper, and passed it across to the novelist. ‘Oh, by the way, Paul,’ he explained, ‘Pryce asked me to give you this cable. It arrived about five minutes after you left.’
‘Good,’ replied Paul Temple briskly. ‘I’ve been expecting this. Excuse me,’ he added.
He tore open the telegram and straightened out the thin sheet of paper. At last he looked up.
‘Interesting news, Sir Graham,’ he explained. ‘It’s from a friend of mine in South Africa. He’s attached to the Cape Town Intelligence Department.’
‘Well, what does he say?’ the Commissioner asked.
‘He says, “Sydney Bellman was unmarried, but he had a sister.”’
‘Who the devil is Sydney Bellman?’ asked Sir Graham, with some impatience.
‘He was the man who assisted Harvey when he was in South Africa. They worked together over the Simonstown Case.’
‘Oh, yes,’ replied the Commissioner. ‘I remember. Didn’t Miss Trent say he was murdered?’
‘He was murdered by – the Knave of Diamonds!’
‘What does your friend mean by, “But he had a sister”?’ inquired Sir Graham.
‘I wonder…’ replied Temple slowly, ‘I wonder…’
Suddenly a loud knock was heard on the panel. It was repeated almost instantly.
‘That’s from the cupboard,’ said Dale. ‘One of the men must have come through from the house.’
‘Open the panel, Dale,’ commanded the Commissioner.
The inspector walked over to the cupboard, opened the door, and slowly pulled back the panel. Behind it he saw the tall figure of Sergeant Mowbray.
‘What is it?’ asked Dale impatiently. ‘I told you to stay at the house.’
‘Sorry, sir,’ Mowbray started, jumping on one side and revealing the presence of yet another visitor, ‘but this lady arrived at the house and insisted on seeing Mr. Temple. I thought perhaps…’
On hearing his name mentioned, Paul Temple had walked up to the cupboard, and he now caught sight of the unexpected visitor.
‘Miss Parchment!’ he exclaimed, with astonishment.
Miss Amelia Victoria Parchment smiled. ‘So we meet again, Mr. Temple!’ she said. ‘How nice.’
CHAPTER XXI
The First Penguin
‘Miss Parchment!’ exclaimed Sir Graham, with a surprise in his voice that verged on sheer horror. ‘What the devil are you doing here?’
Miss Parchment was in no way perturbed. ‘Well,’ she answered brightly, ‘suppose I said “waiting for a bus,” Sir Graham, would you believe me?’
But the Commissioner was in no mood for jesting.
‘Miss Parchment,’ he answered, with all the dignity and severity he could muster, ‘this is no time for flippancy. I warn you that—’
‘Sir Graham, please!’ implored Paul Temple. He turned from the Commissioner to his strange visitor. ‘Miss Parchment, I know why you are here tonight,’ he said quietly. ‘I know who you are – and what you are. But there’s one question you’ve got to answer me.… Where is Steve Trent?’
‘Steve Trent?’ repeated Miss Parchment, with blank surprise. ‘And who, may I ask, is Steve Trent?’
‘Her real name is Harvey…Louise Harvey. She’s the sister to Superintendent Harvey, the man who…’
Miss Parchment’s tone of flippancy and badinage fell from her like a cloak. She became a more human person, a woman who could be aroused, a woman subject to emotions. Her pose as the retired schoolmistress disappeared completely as she exclaimed with alarm: ‘Good God, you don’t mean Harvey…had…a sister?’
‘Yes,’ said Temple briefly. ‘And she’s disappeared.’
It was Inspector Merritt’s turn to be surprised. He was not aware of all the developments in the case, and could not understand the purport of this strange conversation with Miss Parchment.
‘Disappeared?’ he now repeated, with open mouthed surprise.
‘Yes, Charles.’
Chief Inspector Dale frowned. ‘But when did this happen?’ he asked. ‘Surely you didn’t know anything about it when…?’
‘Steve’s landlady arrived with the news shortly after you left for the doctor’s house, Dale.’
‘Oh, I see.’
The Commissioner was still feeling irritated with what he considered Miss Parchment’s unwarranted intrusion. He considered it clearly a waste of valuable time, and he did not hesitate to demonstrate his impatience. He turned to Sergeant Mowbray.
‘I think you’d better return to the house, Mowbray,’ he ordered.
‘Very good, sir.’
‘I’ll come along with you,’ remarked Dale. ‘There’s nothing further I can do here, Sir Graham.’
The little party had returned to the parlour of the inn when Miss Parchment arrived, but the secret panel in the wall had remained open. Inspector Dale now led the way into the mysterious Room 7, followed closely by Sergeant Mowbray. As the rest of the party turned to watch their departure, they saw the panel slowly glide back into position as Dale pressed the button behind the wall.
Temple pulled forward one of the inn’s not-too-comfortable wooden chairs for Miss Parchment, and she accepted it with a pleasant smile. He himself took another chair while the Commissioner remained standing, still a little irritated by the unexpected turn of events.
‘Mr. Temple!’ Miss Parchment spoke quietly, but with a note of desperation in her voice, ‘I should like to have a word with you privately, if possible.’
‘Well…?’
But Sir Graham was not slow in taking the hint. He turned to Inspector Merritt, who had been hovering rather awkwardly in the background.
‘I, er, want to have a word with Turner,’ he said, ‘so you can come along with me, Merritt.’
‘Very good, sir.’
The two men then walked towards the door, leaving Miss Parchment to her interview with Paul Temple. Just before he went out the Commissioner paused. ‘Of course, I shall want to see you later, Miss Parchment,’ he said.
Miss Parchment nodded.
‘Thank you, Sir Graham,’ said Temple.
‘We’ll meet later, Paul,’ Merritt remarked, as he joined the Commissioner.
‘Who is that man?’ asked Miss Parchment, as the door closed behind them.
‘Which man?’ Temple asked. ‘Oh, Inspector Merritt,’ he went on with a smile. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘I wondered, that’s all.’
Paul Temple hesitated a moment. He was curious to know the purpose of this strange visit.
‘Well, Miss Parchment?’ he asked, at last.
Miss Parchment hesitated, then seemed to make up her mind. In her crisp, well-modulated, and cultured voice she started.
‘A little while ago, Mr. Temple, you said, “I know why you are here tonight. I know who you are, and what you are—” She paused. ‘Is that true, Mr. Temple?’
‘Quite true.’
‘Then tell me, and please believe me when I say this is important – do the police know…who I am?’
‘No,’ Paul Temple replied. ‘No, they don’t, Miss Parchment.’
Miss Parchment sighed. ‘Ah—well, that’s a relief.’
‘Why are you so anxious to keep your identity a secret from Scotland Yard?’
‘I think you know the answer to that question, Mr. Temple.’
‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘Yes, I think perhaps I do.’
Suddenly, with what was almost a cry of despair, he said: ‘Miss Parchment – you’ve got to help me find Steve Trent!’
The retired schoolmistress smiled. ‘I’ll help you, Mr. Temple,’ she said. ‘But first, tell me. Do you know why I am interested in old English inns?’
‘Yes,’ Temple replied earnestly. ‘Yes, I know. Although I must confess I was rather puzzled at first. During the last few days I have made a great many inquiries about the Cape Town–Simonstown robberies.’ He paused, then went on significantly, ‘I was very interested to learn that the Knave of Diamonds organized and directed his plans from a group of inns all situated in the same area. It was clever of you to assume that he would use the same procedure in this country.’
Paul Temple smiled. ‘You should have been a detective, Miss Parchment,’ he added, as an afterthought.
Miss Parchment smiled, too, then immediately afterwards her face turned serious again.
‘Mr. Temple,’ she said, ‘I think the Commissioner intends to detain me on suspicion, especially after my unexpected presence here this evening. If you could persuade him to refrain from doing so, then I think the two of us might quite possibly stand a very good chance of finding Miss Trent.’
‘Yes,’ he answered slowly, ‘I think that could be arranged.’
There was a slight pause before either of them spoke again. Miss Parchment seemed to be taking stock of her surroundings. At length she said quietly:
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