‘Smart girl!’ said Dr. Milton.
‘What did you hit him with?’ she asked.
‘This revolver!’ The doctor disclosed a black weapon which was as dangerous as it looked. ‘I had it in my hand all the time, but I was frightened to shoot.’
Diana Thornley looked down at the prostrate figure.
She noticed that he was still breathing, ‘He’s not dead!’ she remarked.
‘No, but we’ll soon—’ Milton broke off. ‘What’s that?’ he added, looking towards the window.
Outside they heard the sound of an approaching car. They looked puzzled and anxious.
‘Well, who the devil can that be?’ asked Dr. Milton abruptly. They both ran to the window and peered into the darkness. Dimly they could see the outline of a car. A figure was moving away from it towards the inn. Suddenly Diana Thornley drew in her breath sharply.
‘Why—’ she stammered, ‘why, it’s that woman…Miss Parchment!’
‘Miss Parchment!’ echoed Milton. ‘Is she alone?’ he asked.
‘Yes. As far as I can see.’
Dr. Milton turned back from the window. There was work to be done in the room. ‘Open that cupboard door!’ he said. ‘We’ll push Horace in there!’
‘What about the river? Can’t—’
Milton cut her short. ‘No. We haven’t time. It’s all right. It’ll be a hell of a time before he comes round.’
In one corner of the room a cupboard had been built into the wall. It was wide enough to take a man lying full length, and Dr. Milton opened its door. Then, with Diana Thornley’s help, he contrived to drag Horace Daley across the floor. There was no time to be lost, but at last they had the innkeeper inside.
‘I say, Doc!’ said the girl, thoughtfully, as they walked away, ‘who the devil is this woman?’
‘Don’t ask me!’
‘She seems to be turning up all over the place. First she was at “The Little General”. Then she was at the Yard when Skid was bumped off, and now she’s—’
‘I reckon she’s a ’tec,’ put in Dr. Milton.
‘Then what’s she doing here?’
‘Probably trying to find Steve Trent.’
‘Mm.…Well, she’s got some nerve; I’ll say that for her!’
‘And she’ll need it!’ Dr. Milton paused. ‘Listen! She’s coming through the bar parlour!’
They could hear Miss Parchment moving about in the next room.
‘Stand away from the door!’ said Milton quietly.
Diana moved back. The doctor seized the knob and suddenly flung the door open. He stood face to face with his unexpected visitor.
‘Good evening, Miss Parchment!’ he said with sarcastic politeness. The revolver, with which he had just rendered Horace Daley unconscious, was now pointing straight at Miss Parchment, but she appeared completely unconcerned by it.
‘Why, Dr. Milton!’ she exclaimed, with what seemed the most genuine pleasure. ‘How very nice!’
‘Come in here!’ he ordered sharply. ‘And drop that handbag! Drop it!’ he added more sharply, as she took no notice of him.
She hesitated a moment, looking from one to the other. ‘Very well,’ she said finally. She put it down unconcernedly on a nearby chair.
‘I do hope that gun isn’t loaded, Doctor!’ said Miss Parchment with a calm plaintiveness in her voice. ‘Your hand is quite shaky, and…’
Dr. Milton interrupted her sharply. ‘Miss Parchment!’ he started. ‘What are you doing here…at “The First Penguin”?’
There were traces of a smile on Miss Parchment’s lips as she replied with perfect calm: ‘Well, really, Doctor, your tone of voice!’
‘Miss Parchment!’ This time his tone was sharp and menacing, and Miss Parchment seemed to realize it.
‘I—I came to see a friend.’
‘Which friend?’
‘A Miss Trent. A Miss Steve Trent. Now don’t tell me you’ve never heard of her?’ she added, the faint smile coming back again.
Diana Thornley now spoke for the first time. ‘How did you know Steve Trent was here?’ she asked deliberately.
‘How did I know…? A bird told me, Miss Thornley.’ Diana Thornley looked at her sharply, not so much because of the queer humour with which Miss Parchment addressed them, but because she knew her name. It was, as far as Diana Thornley knew, the first time they had met.
‘Not a little bird,’ Miss Parchment was saying. ‘Shall we say a pigeon?’
An idea suddenly struck Diana Thornley. ‘Doc!’ she exclaimed. ‘She’s only stalling for time. There’s something in the wind. There’s…’
As she spoke, the door suddenly opened. Her premonition was justified. It was Paul Temple.
‘Drop that gun, Milton!’ he ordered in a voice that brooked no denial.
‘Temple!’ Meekly the doctor put the revolver on the table, but his face blazed with anger.
‘How the devil did you get here?’ asked Diana Thornley.
‘I came with Miss Parchment,’ answered Temple. ‘I regret not having joined you earlier, but I had a little difficulty in locating Miss Trent.’
Dr. Milton looked round, and became aware that his late prisoner had come quietly into the room behind Paul Temple.
Steve looked as fresh as ever. But, nevertheless, she clearly showed what she had been through. Her dress was torn, and her wrists showed the marks of the rope that had bound her. On her forehead was a deep cut on which the blood had now dried. Yet in spite of it all, Steve managed to look her crisp, attractive self. There was no hint even of the relief she must have been feeling, nor of the triumph that was justifiably hers.
‘Steve!’ continued Paul Temple briskly, never for a moment relaxing his watch, ready for any sudden move either of them might make. ‘Take his gun!’
‘All right, Paul!’ She walked to the table and picked up the gun.
‘Would you mind sitting over there, Miss Thornley?’
As he spoke, Paul Temple indicated a chair with his free hand. Diana had no alternative but to comply.
‘Thank you!’ he continued. ‘Hold this gun, Miss Parchment,’ he added, handing his heavy automatic to her. ‘If either of them move while Miss Trent and I are making them comfortable, well, you know what to do!’
‘Oh, er, rather, Mr. Temple!’ she replied with a smile.
Steve Trent had carried a coil of stout cord into the room when she entered. She now picked it up from the chair and handed it to Temple.
‘Thanks,’ he answered. ‘Now for a dose of your own medicine, my friends!’
First he started with Diana Thornley. Deftly he twined the string round her hands, binding them securely to the chair, then round her neck, followed by her ankles. Steve Trent kept her revolver trained on her while Miss Parchment kept Dr. Milton covered.
In a few moments Paul Temple had completed his task and had turned to the doctor. With the same quiet efficiency, he repeated the procedure. Then he went over all the knots he had made, testing their strength and making sure that escape was out of the question.
‘What’s all this jewellery on the table?’ asked Miss Parchment when it was all over, and she was able to lay the gun on the table.
‘It’s from the Malvern job, unless I’m very much mistaken!’ Paul Temple explained, examining the gleaming heap.
‘Yes,’ said Steve Trent. ‘Horace Daley and two other men arrived with it. I could hear them talking.…Suddenly they seemed to disappear…I could hear some sort of a trapdoor being opened…and then what sounded to me like a splash of some sort…I had a feeling that—’
Steve Trent was still pale from the ordeal through which she had passed. The excitement of the last few minutes had brought some colour back into her face, but now the lines of anxiety showed themselves again as she recalled what she had heard. There was no doubt what had happened.
‘Oh!’ remarked Paul Temple. ‘Oh, that’s interesting. So you’ve been getting rid of the small fry, eh, Doc?’
‘I’ll g
et you for this, Temple!’ was the venomous answer. ‘I’ll get you if it takes twenty years!’
But Paul Temple ignored the threat which Dr. Milton spat out at him. He was walking round the room on a tour of inspection. He stopped when he came to the curtains, and drew them back.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Here’s the trapdoor all right.’ With Steve’s help, he pushed the trapdoor back and listened to the sound of the water below. ‘By Timothy, Steve!’ he exclaimed.
They slowly released the trapdoor and stood up again. Paul Temple’s lips were pressed firmly together.
‘Steve,’ he started, ‘how many people arrived here tonight?’
‘Three. Horace Daley; the man who admitted us to Ashdown House that time; and the other man we heard in Room 7. I think his name was Dixie. The doctor was the first to arrive; he came alone.’
‘I see.’
‘Just before the doctor came, I heard the telephone. It was Max Lorraine. I could only just hear what Diana Thornley was saying, but—’
‘She’s lying!’ Diana suddenly shrieked out. ‘She’s lying! She’s lying, I tell you!’ she repeated desperately.
Steve Trent disregarded her. ‘They were obviously planning a get-away. I heard the girl mention Salzburg. When the doctor arrived, she said the Knave would ring later.’
‘Later!’ repeated Paul Temple. ‘By Timothy, if he rings again, we might trace the call!’
‘I tell you, she’s lying!’ shrieked Diana Thornley, all her normal composure now fallen from her. ‘I tell you she’s lying!’
‘You blasted fool, Temple!’ Dr. Milton ejaculated. ‘You don’t really think that—’
At that moment, the telephone bell pealed out and drowned what he was saying. A hush came over them, against which the steady repeated ringing of the bell sounded with almost terrifying vigour.
‘That’s…that’s him!’ said Steve at last.
‘Yes,’ said Paul Temple quietly. ‘I’ll answer it.’ He went to the telephone and took off the receiver. ‘Hello! Hello!’
Then he turned away from the instrument, ‘What’s happened?’ asked Steve.
‘He’s rung off!’
‘Did he speak – did you recognize the voice?’
‘No. But we’ll trace the call!’ he said with determination.
He pressed the receiver hook up and down to call the exchange.
‘Hello! Is that the Exchange?…This is Paul Temple speaking.’ He spoke with great authority in his voice. ‘I’m speaking for Sir Graham Forbes, the Commissioner for the Metropolitan Police. I’ve just received a telephone call and I want you to trace it for me…Yes…Yes, just this minute…It’s very urgent…This number is, er, Evesham 9986…Yes, all right.’
He replaced the receiver and turned away.
‘Is—is she tracing it?’ asked Steve.
‘Yes.’
Nobody spoke. All seemed to feel something strange hanging over them. Paul Temple walked up and down the room. At last the bell rang and he picked up the receiver again.
‘Hello! Yes, yes, speaking…What! What!!…I see…Thank you.’
The little group in the room had been watching him with curiosity. But he rejoined them in silence.
‘Well, Mr. Temple?’ Miss Parchment was the first to put the question.
‘Where did the call come from?’ asked Steve Trent anxiously.
Temple looked down at them. ‘It came from Bramley Lodge,’ he said quietly.
CHAPTER XXIV
Recovery and Escape
Steve Trent looked at Dr. Milton with a feeling of horror. There was something devilish, almost inhuman, about the way he smiled. In some queer way he seemed to be triumphing over them, even now while he was still in their power. Suddenly he became serious again. A frown came over his face and he sat still, gazing down at the floor before him. Diana Thornley remained completely unconcerned, as if their respective positions were reversed.
Paul Temple had remained at the telephone with Steve by his side. Suddenly she laid a hand on his arm.
‘Hadn’t you better—’
‘I’ll get on to Pryce and see who’s at the house!’ he said quietly, lifting the receiver. After giving his number he replaced it, and walked across to the window.
‘Paul—’ Steve Trent looked anxious.
‘Yes?’
‘Oh, I know this sounds silly, but…How long has Pryce been working for you?’
Temple laughed. ‘You don’t have to worry about Pryce, Steve. He isn’t the Knave of Diamonds, I assure you. He looks far too guilty after snaffling one of my cigars – or perhaps it’s the cigars!’
As he spoke, the telephone bell began to peal forth again. It was the call for which he had been waiting, and Temple lifted the receiver.
‘Hello! Yes…What?…Oh, but there must be…Out of order? Oh…Oh, I see. Thank you.’
‘What’s the matter?’ asked Steve.
The novelist slowly replaced the receiver, and half turned. ‘There’s no reply!’ he explained. ‘Or rather they can’t get the number.… There’s something funny, Steve!’ His face had turned extremely serious. ‘Look here, we must get back to Bramley Lodge as quickly as we can…I must find out who’s been there!’
Steve Trent’s eyes were shining with excitement. ‘Paul!’ she burst out, ‘the Knave must be someone you know – otherwise Pryce wouldn’t have admitted him!’
Paul Temple padded softly backwards and forwards through the room like a jaguar bent on its prey. He felt he was nearing a final solution of the whole mystery, yet still the prime mover behind the gang eluded him. He glanced at the two chairs in which were the tightly bound forms of Dr. Milton and Diana Thornley. Of the two, only the latter appeared unruffled. From time to time she glanced at the ‘doc’ as if to encourage him in his fortitude. Partly through this, and partly, it seemed, through sheer fear of her, Doctor Milton kept silent. Now and again, he seemed to be on the point of speaking, on the very point of revealing the secret the three watchers would have given so much to know. But each time he began to speak, a warning glance from Diana Thornley silenced him.
Miss Parchment was thoroughly enjoying herself. She was now sitting down facing them, with Paul Temple’s automatic resting on her lap, her right hand gripping it in readiness. A slight smile flickered over her face as she watched them. It was as though she were beginning to taste the sweetness of a well-deserved triumph. Suddenly Paul Temple stopped near her chair.
‘Miss Parchment,’ he started, ‘will you stay here with Milton and the girl?…It’s imperative that I get back to Bramley Lodge. If the Knave has been there, and he obviously has, then this is the chance we’ve been waiting for.’
He spoke thoughtfully, but behind his quiet tones lay determination and the knowledge that events were moving towards a rapid climax.
‘Yes,’ answered Miss Parchment slowly, after considering his scheme; ‘yes, all right, Mr. Temple!’
Diana Thornley’s eyes flashed as she listened to the proposal. ‘You can’t leave us here – tied up like this!’ she burst out angrily.
Dr. Milton rushed in to support her. ‘Listen, Temple,’ he started, ‘if you think—’
But their protests did not interest the novelist, and Diana, realizing the utter futility of talking to him, relapsed into silence. Only two bright spots of colour in her cheeks revealed the bafflement and anger she felt.
Paul Temple put a hand on Miss Parchment’s shoulder. He stood over her encouragingly. ‘Miss Parchment,’ he said, ‘I’ll get Sir Graham to send someone here immediately I get back to the house.’
As he spoke, Diana glanced at him. A tiny cynical smile appeared on her lips for an instant, then it disappeared again, and her features again were sullen and expressionless.
‘That’s all right, Mr. Temple,’ answered Miss Parchment. ‘I shall be quite comfortable.’
‘Good.’ Temple glanced round the room and suddenly noticed the diamonds lying on the table. So busy had he been with other thoughts t
hat he had almost overlooked them. ‘By Timothy,’ he exclaimed, ‘we’d better take these! Have you a handbag, Steve?’
Steve obediently passed her handbag across. The novelist looked at it with scorn and handed it back to her. Normally he was the first to laugh at the vagaries of feminine fashions, and the monstrous size of so many ladies’ handbags was an unfailing topic for his satirical pen. But on this occasion even Steve Trent’s handbag could not cope with the glittering heap on the table.
Fortunately, the attaché case in which Horace Daley had originally brought the gems was still on the floor, and Temple picked it up. Then, with a parting word to Miss Parchment, he took Steve Trent by the arm and they left the room.
Outside was the car in which he had arrived earlier in the evening.
‘How long should it take us?’ asked Steve, as she struggled over the gravel in her light shoes.
‘About twenty minutes,’ he answered. ‘With a bit of luck, we—’ Temple suddenly stood still, his eyes fixed straight ahead of him.
Steve looked at him, puzzled. ‘Paul!’ she exclaimed. ‘What is it?’
‘I say!’ he replied quietly. ‘Did you see that pigeon?’
‘Why, yes!’ she said promptly. ‘There’s a courtyard at the back full of them.’
‘How do you know?’ There was a strange urgency in his voice as he asked the question.
‘Because I could see them from the room I was in.’
‘By Timothy!’ whistled Temple.
His seriousness made her smile. ‘Paul,’ she asked earnestly, ‘what’s the matter?’
‘The constable commented on the pigeons at “The Little General”!’ he said.
‘Well?’ The faint smile still played over Steve Trent’s face.
‘Steve!’ he exclaimed. ‘Wait here…I shan’t be a second.… Start the car!’
Steve turned with surprise to watch Temple disappear round the corner. Then she gave up the problem and walked over to the car. Very obediently, she pressed the starter button and, after a couple of turns, the engine was ticking over quietly. Steve moved over to the passenger’s seat, leaving the engine to warm up gradually so that they could start away immediately Temple returned from his mysterious errand. She sat there for what seemed an interminable period. Then at last she turned round and pushed open the door as she heard his footsteps over the path.
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