Send for Paul Temple Again!. Francis Durbridge

velvet.’

      ‘What’s this appointment of yours tonight at ten-thirty?’ asked Steve, becoming serious at once.

      ‘I suppose you wouldn’t believe me if I told you it was with an extremely attractive, sophisticated woman in the early thirties,’ smiled Temple.

      ‘I might.’

      ‘Oh, well, I’d better start at the beginning. I had a chat with Doctor Kohima about the car that bumped us. It was his all right.’

      ‘But – but – hadn’t he any explanation?’

      ‘He had. A very plausible one, too. You know, Steve, there’s something damned queer about that affair.’

      ‘In what way exactly?’

      ‘Well, in the first place, his car is supposed to be at a garage in Bicester Square, where it’s being repaired. The doctor said it would be ready today, and asked me to check that with the garage. They said it was actually ready yesterday, and, what’s more, that Doctor Kohima’s chauffeur took the car out of the garage last night at seven-thirty and brought it back at nine forty-five.’

      ‘Then, there you are!’ exclaimed Steve. ‘That was when the accident happened. The chauffeur must be mixed up somehow—’

      ‘That’s just the point,’ interrupted Temple. ‘You see, Doctor Kohima doesn’t happen to have a chauffeur.’

      Steve was momentarily nonplussed, then rallied with: ‘But it’s quite simple. Someone pretended to be the doctor’s chauffeur.’

      Temple nodded thoughtfully.

      ‘In which case, how did he get the car? They’re pretty smart at that garage – they told me the system they have, and it’s fairly foolproof. There’s only one way he could have got it, by producing a ticket, and that ticket must be the same as the one originally given to Doctor Kohima.’

      ‘So that means the doctor was lying?’

      ‘Seems like it. But it doesn’t mean that he drove the car himself. In fact, I’m sure he didn’t. What’s more, his being a psychiatrist doesn’t simplify matters. You always have a feeling that he’s one jump ahead of you, and it’s rather an uncomfortable feeling.’

      Steve wrinkled her forehead thoughtfully.

      ‘Surely he realises that this is a very serious business?’ she said. ‘Doesn’t he propose to do anything? I mean, after all it was his car, and if you notify the police—’

      ‘No, I don’t propose to do that just yet,’ replied Temple. ‘He was quite helpful up to a point. Seemed to be telling me all he knew.’

      ‘But where does this beautiful woman come into the picture?’ demanded Steve suddenly. ‘Or doesn’t she?’

      ‘She comes into it all right. The woman in question is Doctor Kohima’s secretary – and her name is Mrs. Trevelyan.’

      Steve dropped the bundle of knitting she had just picked up.

      ‘Darling, you’re joking!’ she cried.

      Temple slowly shook his head.

      ‘So your appointment tonight is with Mrs. Trevelyan?’ continued Steve.

      ‘I’m afraid so. D’you mind?’

      ‘It doesn’t look as if I shall have much say in the matter.’

      ‘Oh, but you have, darling. I wouldn’t dream of going without you. I told you that Mrs. Trevelyan is a very attractive woman. And my experience is that if a very attractive woman means mischief, she is far less dangerous if another very attractive woman happens to be present.’

      ‘So even a detective’s wife has her uses,’ smiled Steve. ‘Well, where do we meet the lady?’

      He passed over the slip of paper, and she read the address.

      ‘That’s not far from here,’ she commented. ‘Does Doctor Kohima know about this appointment?’

      ‘No, and she seemed pretty anxious that he shouldn’t get to hear of it. The woman is frightened, Steve. I don’t know what she’s scared of, but she’s as frightened as hell!’

      ‘Many actresses are very beautiful,’ said Steve softly.

      ‘The converse doesn’t necessarily apply.’

      ‘Still, acting is often instinctive to a good-looking woman. She knows how men fall for beauty in distress. Are you sure you want me to come with you?’

      Temple looked at her earnestly.

      ‘Of course. But I ought to warn you that there may be a certain amount of danger.’

      ‘In that case,’ declared Steve decisively, ‘I’m most certainly coming.’

      ‘Good,’ smiled Temple. ‘Better bring your knitting. The needles might come in useful – I read somewhere that they can be dangerous weapons. Ah well, I think I’ll change.’ He yawned prodigiously and announced, ‘I feel like a bath.’

      The door opened softly and Ricky stood there impassively with folded hands and imperturbable smile.