he said, with a smile, ‘I see you are dying to print all this in your paper, quite exclusively. I think that would make what I believe you would call a nice “scoop”. Well, I give you full permission to do so. But I think it would be safer for yourself if you made no reference to your part in this affair.
‘Later this afternoon I am holding an informal sort of Press conference at which I shall be going over some of the ground we have covered during our chat.’
The Commissioner poured himself out some more tea, found it was nearly cold, and pressed the bell to order some fresh tea to be made.
‘Well, Sir Graham,’ Temple now replied, ‘I don’t profess to be able to work miracles. By profession, I’m a writer – but, well, I must confess I’m very intrigued by certain aspects of this affair.’
‘Then we can—’
‘You can count on me to give you every assistance in my power, Sir Graham. That I promise you.’
‘Thank you, Temple,’ replied the Commissioner. ‘I was hoping you’d say that.’
As he spoke the door opened, and Chief Inspector Dale walked in. As soon as he saw the visitors, he hesitated.
‘Oh, I’m sorry, sir,’ he apologized. ‘I thought you—’
The Commissioner cut him short. ‘Come in, Dale. Come in. You know Paul Temple, I believe?’
‘Yes, yes, of course,’ he replied.
They shook hands and the Commissioner introduced him to Steve Trent.
‘I thought perhaps you’d like to know that Inspector Merritt has arrived, sir,’ Dale reported, ‘with that man—er—Tyler, Skid Tyler.’
‘Oh, yes. When I ring, show them in here,’ Sir Graham replied.
‘Very good, sir.’
The Commissioner was not quite certain that Skid Tyler should be brought in before Miss Trent, nor whether even Miss Trent would care to hear his story. But she was now closely involved in the whole business, he reflected, and she might as well see this through.
‘Would you like to stay while we question this man?’ he asked her, after Dale had departed.
Steve was a reporter. And as a reporter, she had had to deal with situations that were far more gruesome than this might be.
‘Yes, yes, I would rather!’ she replied eagerly.
‘Good. I should sit over there in the corner, Miss Trent. You’ll be out of the way there.’
Then he walked over to his desk and pressed one of the bell buttons. His personal attendant, Sergeant Leopold, opened the door.
‘You rang, sir?’
‘Yes. Tell Inspector Dale, Inspector Merritt, and that man— er—Skid Tyler, to come in here.’
‘Yes, sir.’ The sergeant departed.
Meanwhile the Commissioner rearranged the chairs and waited for the three men to come in.
Presently the door opened again, and Tyler appeared, followed by Merritt and Dale.
‘Sit down, Tyler,’ said the Commissioner. ‘No, over there,’ he added, pointing to a chair near the fireplace facing his own chair.
‘What is it you want?’ Tyler started protesting, before the others had even found time to sit down. ‘What the ’ell is the idea draggin’ me along ’ere – anybody would think I was a blarsted criminal!’
‘Be quiet!’ said Chief Inspector Dale sharply.
‘That’s all right, Dale,’ said Sir Graham. ‘Now listen, Tyler. We’re going to ask you a few questions, and if you’ve got any sense, you’ll tell us the truth.’ He looked round at the little gathering who were now waiting to hear what Tyler would have to say.
‘What were you doing in Evesham at the beginning of this week?’
Skid Tyler did not look even surprised. ‘Evesham?’ he retorted impudently. ‘Never been near the place!’
The Commissioner was not so easily put off. ‘My dear fellow, don’t for heaven’s sake adopt that attitude. Inspector Merritt saw you there, didn’t you, Merritt?’
‘That’s right,’ agreed the inspector. ‘Outside “The Little General” about three o’clock in the afternoon.’
‘What would I be doin’ outside a pub at three o’clock in the afternoon,’ said Skid sarcastically. ‘Now I ask you?’
Temple drew his chair forward. ‘Who said “The Little General” was a—public house?’ he asked.
‘Who said so?’ replied Skid, ‘why…why—’ Then suddenly he realized how neatly he had trapped himself. ‘What the ’ell is all this about anyway?’ he demanded angrily. ‘You’ve got nothing on me. You can’t—’ He paused, realizing that he was making a very bad matter a great deal worse.
‘Last week, my dear fellow,’ resumed Temple in very calm tones that only served to infuriate Skid and make him splutter with rage and indignation, ‘with the aid of a two-ton lorry, you accidentally smashed your way into a very select little dress shop. By a strange coincidence, the shop next door happened to be a jeweller’s. By an even stranger coincidence, it happened to be robbed at precisely the same moment that you decided to make a closer inspection of Madame Isabel’s really remarkable exhibition of spring underwear.’
‘What are you getting at?’ Skid shouted.
‘I’ll tell you what I’m getting at, Skid,’ Temple replied. ‘But first of all, tell me, are you fond of children?’
‘Children!’ repeated the bewildered Skid.
‘Ah, but then you must be,’ continued Temple; ‘I was forgetting.’
Skid felt he was being baited. Temple’s smooth words were beyond his comprehension. At last, he burst out. ‘What the ’ell ’as children got to do with all this?’
‘My dear Skid, you surprise me! Don’t you realize you’re holding the baby? And, by Timothy, what a baby!’
‘Holding the…’ Skid did not know what to make of this. An angry policeman he could cope with. But this smooth, calm, deliberate manner of Temple’s was something new to him. ‘Say, listen,’ he started, ‘if you’re trying to be funny, then—’
‘Trying to be funny?’ interrupted Temple. ‘My dear Skid, I’m an amateur humorist compared with the crowd you’ve been mixing with.’
‘What—do—you mean?’
‘What do I mean?’ Temple began to laugh. Even the three policemen looked at him with slight bewilderment.
‘Oh! Oh! Our old friend Skid drives the lorry! Our old friend Skid smashes into the dress shop! Our old friend Skid gets arrested!
