Francis Durbridge - Paul Temple and the Margo Mystery

‘Steve!’

‘Paul!’

She was almost sobbing with relief. He held her away from him for a moment.

‘Darling, you said by the bookstall.’

‘Yes, I know. But I knew my face looked awful and I never thought you’d get here so quickly.’

‘Well—’ Temple let out a long sigh. ‘Thank God we’ve found you.’

Forbes had come striding over from the flower stall. ‘Are you all right, Steve?’

‘Yes, Sir Graham.’ Steve managed a little smile. ‘I’m just – a little tired, that’s all.’

‘What happened?’ Temple asked. ‘How did you come to be here? Who was that man whose voice I heard?’

‘Paul, I’m confused…and frightened…I hardly know…’

‘Wait a moment, Temple,’ Forbes said in a low voice, his eyes on Steve’s trembling hands and nervously restless glance. ‘I think we’d better get her home and let a doctor see her before we start asking too many questions.’

‘You know, Temple, this really is an extraordinary affair.’ Sir Graham Forbes put the glass of whisky Temple had given him on the table beside his chair. ‘I’ve never come across a case quite like it before. No ransom – no mysterious notes – no threats – no blackmail. Nothing.’

‘And no motive either, sir,’ added Raine, who had opted for a glass of lager, ‘so far as we can see.’

The hands of the clock on the mantelpiece of the Temples’ sitting-room had moved round to twenty past eleven. More soberly than on the outward journey Raine’s driver had brought Steve, Forbes and Temple back to Eaton Square. Temple had been lucky to find the partner of their own doctor at home and he had come round at once. The three men were having a drink while they waited for him to pronounce her fit for questioning.

‘They must have had a motive!’ Temple exclaimed. He was pacing restlessly up and down the room. ‘Whoever they are, they must have had a reason for picking Steve up like that!’

‘I agree, Temple. But what was the reason? After all, it isn’t as if you’re mixed up in a case at the moment, or even helping us over…’

Forbes was interrupted by the door opening. Dr McCarthy put his head round it. ‘May I come in?’

He was a small, competent but slightly self-effacing man with a balding head and prominent ears. He wore rimless glasses and carried the regulation leather bag.

‘Yes, of course, Doctor. What’s the verdict?’

‘Nothing to worry about – nothing at all.’ The doctor ventured a little further into the room. ‘But there’s no doubt Mrs Temple has had quite a shock, and, in my opinion, she’s either been drugged or even possibly hypnotised.’

‘Hypnotised!’ Temple echoed incredulously.

‘However, the main thing is, there’s nothing for you to worry about, Mr Temple. What your wife needs now is rest, and plenty of it! I’ve given her a sedative; she’ll probably sleep most of tomorrow morning.’

‘Thank you, Doctor.’

‘I’ll look in during the afternoon, or give you a ring tomorrow evening.’

‘Thank you,’ Temple said again, and moved towards the door to see him out.

But Dr McCarthy had picked up the purposeful and expectant atmosphere in the room. He peered sternly at Raine through his small lenses. ‘And, Superintendent…’

‘Yes, Doctor?’

‘My patient can’t answer any questions – not at the moment, at any rate.’

Raine nodded, accepting the ban with resignation. ‘Very well, Doctor.’

‘So hold your horses until tomorrow.’ McCarthy turned to Temple, who was standing waiting by the door. ‘And that goes for you too, Mr Temple.’

When Steve woke she did not immediately open her eyes, afraid that she might see again the walls of the small room where she had been held prisoner. But the sound of music was reassuring and she dared to raise her eyelids. With relief she saw that she was in her own bedroom. Though it was darkened she could identify the familiar objects of everyday life.

‘Paul…What are you doing sitting over there?’

‘I’m listening to the radio and watching you, darling.’

‘Well, what time is it?’

‘What time do you think?’ Temple asked, smiling.

‘Oh, I don’t know.’ Steve sat up in bed, stretched her arms and yawned. ‘The sun’s shining so it must be morning.’

‘It’s a quarter past five.’

‘A quarter past five? In the afternoon?’

‘Yes, darling. You’ve had quite a nice little nap.’

‘How long have I actually been…?’

‘Since eleven o’clock last night.’ Temple put the paper down and came over to the bed. ‘The doctor gave you a sedative.’

‘Good heavens! You shouldn’t have let me sleep like this! Oh, Paul – you look wonderful! How lovely to see you again!’ She reached out towards him as he bent down to kiss her. ‘Did you have a nice trip?’

‘Yes, I did. But it’s the last trip I’m making without you, Steve.’

‘You can say that again!’ She laughed and slid luxuriously back under the bedclothes. There was more colour in her cheeks than the night before but she had dark shadows under her eyes.

‘How do you feel?’

‘I’m perfectly all right now. There’s no need to look so anxious.’

He sat down on the edge of the bed. She put out a hand to grasp his. ‘Do you feel well enough to talk?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘What happened yesterday, Steve?’

‘Well, now – let me think…’ Her eyes clouded as she stared at the half-drawn curtains. ‘I’m not sure where to begin…’

‘Suppose we begin at the very beginning. You set out to meet me at the airport, just as you planned…’

‘Yes, that’s right. I arrived there with plenty of time to spare, and parked the car. A man in uniform, one of the airport officials, came up to me. He checked the number of my car, and asked if I was Mrs Temple. He told me your plane had arrived ahead of schedule and you were waiting for me in the Concorde Lounge.’

‘Would you recognise this man again?’

‘I doubt it.’ She shook her head. ‘He asked me to follow him to another car just outside the car park. I thought he was taking me to another building some distance away. In the back of the car was a woman wearing air hostess’s uniform. I sat beside her and the man climbed into the driving seat and we drove off. We’d been going for about a minute when the woman suddenly pushed a pad over my face and I felt a jab in my right arm. I’m afraid I don’t remember anything else – about the journey, I mean. When I came to I was in a darkened room. I felt absolutely awful. Everything was going round and I wanted to be sick. After a while a man came into the room and gave me a drink. I don’t know what it was, but it certainly made me feel better.’

‘Was this man the phoney airport official?’

‘I couldn’t see him very well, but I don’t think he was. For one thing, his voice sounded different.’

‘And what did he say?’

‘He said there was nothing to worry about – that I wasn’t in any danger and later on they’d be releasing me.’

‘Did you ask why they’d kidnapped you?’

‘Yes, and he said: “We did it as a warning, and to prove that it was possible, Mrs Temple.” ’

She felt his grip on her hand tighten, saw the line of his mouth harden.

‘Go on, Steve.’

‘Well, I was left alone for ages after that. It must have been two or three hours later before another man came into the room. I think this was the man at the airport; he was about the same height and he sounded rather like him.’

‘But you’re not sure?’ he said sharply.

‘No, Paul, I can’t be a hundred per cent sure. Anyway, this man also assured me that there was nothing to worry about and that they were going to send me home. About half an hour later they drove me down to Euston and allowed me to make the telephone call.’