Francis Durbridge - Send for Paul Temple Again!

‘I should imagine so,’ nodded Temple.’ Did the – er – hallucinations take any consistent form?’

‘Why, yes, I had the impression that everywhere I went I was being followed—’

‘Not by the police?’ queried Temple, who had often heard of this particular type of illusion.

‘No, nothing as lurid as that,’ laughed Lathom. ‘This was a girl who was following me around. A very attractive girl, too. I can see her now just as clearly as I see you sitting there. She had brown shoes – brown costume – brown handbag – perky little hat – silk stockings! I suppose, really, it was quite the nicest type of hallucination.’

‘Did you ever try to, well, to sort of corner the girl in brown?’ asked Temple, in an interested tone.

‘Time and again. But of course she was never there. She’d vanish quite completely – almost into thin air. It was quite uncanny. I don’t mind telling you it had me badly rattled.’

‘And you mean to say Doctor Kohima convinced you that she did not exist?’

‘That’s just what he did,’ Lathom assured Temple earnestly. ‘It’s taken him literally months of exhaustive research, but he’s done it! I can’t quite tell you how, but suddenly the lady in is no more. She’s vanished for the last time. No doubt about the doctor is brilliant – really quite brilliant.’

He appeared to be about to enlarge further upon this question when the door opened, and a well-dressed woman of about thirty-five stood there.

‘The doctor’s sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Temple,’ she announced. ‘He’ll be able to see you in about five minutes.’

‘Thank you,’ said Temple. The woman looked round and suddenly saw Lathom, who was sitting behind the door.

‘Your appointment wasn’t till four, Mr. Lathom,’ she said. ‘Didn’t you know that?’

Lathom rose politely and smiled at her.

‘Oh yes,’ he replied suavely. ‘But I’m afraid I found myself in the neighbourhood with half an hour to spare, so I thought I’d come in and relax, as the doctor always advises.’

‘It’s quite all right,’ smiled the secretary, ‘as long as you don’t mind waiting.’

‘Not at all.’

‘I’ll tell the doctor you’re here,’ she said as she went out, silently closing the door after her.

Temple looked round for an ash-tray and stubbed out his cigarette.

‘Was that Doctor Kohima’s secretary?’ he asked.

‘That’s right. An awfully nice person.’

‘Yes, she seemed very helpful when I spoke to her on the ’phone,’ nodded Temple. ‘You don’t happen to know her name?’

‘Well, I always call her “nurse” for some silly reason. But the doctor did introduce us when I first came here. Her name is Mrs. Trevelyan.’

TEMPLE glanced somewhat suspiciously at Lathom, but the letter’s expression was completely matter-of-fact.

‘Are you quite sure that’s the name?’ asked Temple.

‘Of course I’m sure. Why?’

‘Oh—nothing.’

Temple imagined he caught a glint of amusement in Lathom’s somewhat steely blue eyes, but decided he had been mistaken. Lathom picked up a glossy magazine, glanced aimlessly through it then turned to Temple again.

‘Come to think of it, Mr. Temple, I’ve been seeing your name the papers once or twice lately in connection with this Rex case. Was the report true in the Evening Courier a couple of nights back?’

‘Which report was that exactly?’

‘The one that said Sir Graham Forbes had finally decided to send for Paul Temple.’

Temple shrugged, took out his cigarette-case, and offered one to Lathom.

‘Are you interested in this Rex affair?’ he asked.

There was silence for a moment, then Lathom said, ‘Yes, as a matter of fact I am. I don’t actually take an interest in murders and sordid crimes, but this business rather intrigues me. Maybe it’s partly because I knew Norma Rice.’ He gave an apologetic laugh, then added somewhat self-consciously, ‘I’m afraid I’ve even got quite a little theory of my own.’

‘What is it?’ asked Temple quietly.

‘Oh, really! You must get dozens of people trying to foist their wild ideas on you. Doesn’t it get rather boring?’

‘I’m not easily bored, Mr. Lathom,’ Temple assured him, he lit his cigarette. ‘In a case of this nature, one has to consider every possible angle, and there’s an old story about the onlooker seeing most of the game.’

‘Then, if you really want my opinion, Mr. Temple,’ said Lathom earnestly, ‘I think this fellow Rex is nothing more than a homicidal maniac.’

‘What makes you think that?’

‘Well, look at the Norma Rice affair. If Rex really was responsible for murdering Norma Rice, what possible motive could he have had?’

‘I suppose Norma Rice had enemies, the same as anyone else. I believe she had rather a gift for alienating people.’

‘But poor old Norma never meant any harm. Everyone knew it was just her temperamental moods. And then take this murder of Cranbury in the Brains Trust. It sounds fantastic to me.’

‘Then you’ve heard of Sir Ernest’s death?’

‘Good lord, yes. Haven’t you seen the papers today? They gave you a pretty good show. But why did Rex pick on poor old Cranbury?’

‘Who says Rex killed him?’

‘Why, the papers. Anyhow, you were there – you know what happened.’ He paused, evidently expecting Temple to supply some further information.

‘There was nothing very dramatic about it,’ said the novelist. ‘Sir Ernest simply collapsed – it just appeared to be heart failure.’

‘Then why are the newspapers saying that he was murdered by Rex?’

‘Because,’ Temple quietly informed him, ‘Sir Ernest mentioned Rex just before he died.’

‘Did he?’ Lathom’s eyes widened. ‘Did he, by Jove! I didn’t know that. Can you tell me what he said, or is it a secret?’

Temple smiled.

‘It wasn’t as startling as all that. He simply said, “Temple, I want to tell you about Rex.”’

Again there was silence. Then Lathom asked:

‘That was all?’

‘All there was time for.’

Lathom nodded his head thoughtfully, as if he were busy fitting facts into his theory. Suddenly he exclaimed, ‘Well, there you are! Obviously this fellow Rex is a lunatic. Must be as crazy as a hatter. Good heavens, why should anyone want to murder poor old Ernest?’

‘You knew Sir Ernest?’ put in Temple quickly.

‘Good lord, yes! He was quite a man about town, you know. He wasn’t exactly a friend of mine, but we were always bumping into each other in clubs and places. Seemed quite a harmless old stick – completely wrapped up in his work – the last sort of person you’d expect to find at cross-purposes with a murderer.’

As Lathom finished speaking the door opened, and Mrs. Trevelyan said, ‘The doctor will see you now, Mr. Temple.’

Temple rose and thanked her. As he went to the door, Lathom murmured, ‘We shall meet again, I hope, Mr. Temple. I hope my theories haven’t bored you too much.’

‘Not at all,’ replied Temple politely, and there was some degree of truth in his answer, for he had not made up his mind about Mr. Carl Lathom. And one is invariably intrigued by a stranger who retains some element of mystery.

Outside, Mrs. Trevelyan closed the door behind them. ‘Before you see Doctor Kohima, could I have a word with you?’ she said.

Her voice was low and urgent, and Temple detected an expression of alarm in her eyes.

‘Yes, of course,’ he answered.

She led him a little way along the corridor, then turned once more.

‘Listen! I’ve got to talk to you!’ she whispered, and there was a note of urgency in her voice. ‘I’ve got to talk to you about Rex.’