Francis Durbridge - News of Paul Temple

FRANCIS DURBRIDGE

An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by

LONG 1940

Copyright © Francis Durbridge 1940

All rights reserved

Francis Durbridge has asserted his right under the Copyright,

Designs and Patents Act, 1988 to be identified as the author of this work

Cover design © HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 2015

Cover image © Shutterstock.com

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008125608

Ebook Edition © June 2015 ISBN: 9780008125615

Version: 2015-06-01

Contents

Cover

Title Page FRANCIS DURBRIDGE

Copyright An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF www.harpercollins.co.uk First published in Great Britain by LONG 1940 Copyright © Francis Durbridge 1940 All rights reserved Francis Durbridge has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988 to be identified as the author of this work Cover design © HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 2015 Cover image © Shutterstock.com A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library. This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins. Source ISBN: 9780008125608 Ebook Edition © June 2015 ISBN: 9780008125615 Version: 2015-06-01

CHAPTER I: The Stage is Set

CHAPTER II: Concerning Z.4

CHAPTER III: Instructions for a Murder

CHAPTER IV: Appointment with Danger

CHAPTER V: In Which Mrs Moffat Receives a Visitor

CHAPTER VI: Introducing Z.4

About the Author

Also in this series

About the Publisher

1

‘Bryant! Where the devil is Bryant?’ Ralph Cosgrove, news editor of the Evening Post , replaced the telephone and repeated his question into the mouthpiece of the dictograph. A few seconds later the door opened and a resonant tenor announced: ‘Do I hear you calling me?’

‘Cut out the fooling and shut the door,’ snapped Cosgrove. ‘You should have been here hours ago. What the devil have you been doing?’

Rex Bryant came into the office and perched himself on the arm of the chair reserved for visitors. He was young, attractive, well dressed, and, oddly enough, did not wear a trilby on the back of his head. ‘I’ve been to a movie,’ announced Rex. ‘It was terrific. All about a newspaper. The editor got the scoop. The reporter got the girl. And the girl got the baby.’

There was an unpleasant glint in Cosgrove’s eye. ‘Unless you take the lead out of your pants you’ll get the sack!’ he barked. ‘Get down to Southampton and cover the Clipper story!’

Rex frowned. ‘Look here, Chief, I’m just about tired of meeting film stars.’

‘I’m not asking you to meet film stars. Maybe you’ve never heard of the Golden Clipper ?’

‘Of course I have! New York to Southampton in twenty-four hours. Nice easy passage. Where’s the story?’

Ralph Cosgrove smiled. It was not a pleasant smile. ‘I don’t suppose you know by any chance who happens to be travelling on the Clipper ?’

‘The Quintuplets?’ suggested Rex.

Cosgrove thoughtfully fingered a newspaper cutting he had picked up from among the pile of papers on his desk.

‘No, not the Quintuplets,’ he said softly. ‘Just Paul Temple. Mr and Mrs Temple, to be more precise.’

‘Are you sure of this?’ There was no mistaking the note of urgency in Rex Bryant’s voice.

‘Of course I’m sure. It was in last night’s Standard. ’

‘Well, I’m damned!’

‘You’ll also be fired if you don’t get down to Southampton. We’ve been waiting for this story to break for weeks.’

‘But everybody knows why Temple is on his way home,’ protested Rex. ‘They’ve been rehearsing that new play of his. It’s due to open in a fortnight.’

‘That’s old stuff. Iris Archer in The First Lady Seaton .’

‘Yes. Only for some reason or other Iris Archer isn’t going to play the part.’

This was obviously news to Cosgrove and he raised his eyebrows in surprise. ‘What’s the matter with Archer? Why isn’t she playing the part?’

‘I don’t know. Gibson had a chat with her last night. She talks a lot of nonsense about the part being unsuitable.’

Cosgrove nodded. ‘Well, get down to Southampton and see what Temple has to say about it.’

Rex wearily levered himself from the arm of the chair.

‘I’d sooner cover that new movie at the Empire,’ he grinned. ‘It’s all about an editor who took the wrong turning.’

‘Southampton!’

‘OK, Snow White! OK!’

Rex made a hasty yet dignified retreat.

Four hours later, his vermilion two-seater sports car was nosing its way through Southampton’s dock traffic, and he was wondering if there would be any other newspapermen present. There was nothing Rex hated more than mass interviews. However, knowing Temple and his wife in the days when they were both journalists was certainly a point in his favour. When the Golden Clipper bumped gently to a standstill, Rex had no difficulty in segregating Paul Temple and Steve from the crowds that thronged to see Hollywood’s latest film face, which, as usual, proved more than a little disappointing in its everyday proportions.

Over a drink in the buffet, Rex surveyed his old acquaintances with a quizzical stare. Temple, he decided, had hardly altered as far as features were concerned since the days when he was a penurious journalist. True, he must be quite a stone lighter, but that suited him.

Steve, who was always ready to talk ‘shop’ with Bryant or any of the other reporters, said quietly: ‘How’s the circulation, Rex?’

‘Not so good lately. Wrong time of year.’

‘It’s always the wrong time of year,’ put in Temple, with a twinkle in his eye.