‘What are you going to do?’
She hesitated an instant. ‘I’m going to play the record,’ she said decisively.
She opened the radiogram, switched it on, and placed the record carefully on the turntable. ‘The set takes a little while to warm up,’ she added.
‘Yes.’
‘Paul!’ This time there were traces of anxiety in her voice. ‘What do you think is on the record?’
‘I don’t know. Probably a message from the—’ He hesitated. ‘Steve!’ he said suddenly. ‘You’re shaking!’
‘No,’ she replied, though without any great conviction. ‘No, I’m…all right.’
‘Here – I’ll set it going. You sit down, dear!’
He took Steve gently by the arm and led her to one of the comfortable armchairs. She sat down in it with an infinite look of gratitude in her eyes.
Paul Temple walked slowly back to the radiogram. For some seconds he looked down at the gramophone record. From where she was sitting, Steve Trent watched him with curiosity.
‘What is it, Paul?’ she asked at length. ‘Why don’t you put the record on?’
‘Just a minute,’ said Temple. ‘Just a minute!’ He hesitated. ‘Aren’t we being a little obvious, my dear?’
‘A little obvious?’
‘Steve…Supposing you sent someone you knew a record – a gramophone record. It had no official label, and looked very mysterious. What do you think would be the first thing they’d do with it?’
‘Why, play it, of course! That’s what everyone would do under the circumstances.’
‘Yes, of course it is,’ agreed Temple. ‘That’s what everyone would do under the circumstances,’ he added slowly.
Steve looked even more puzzled.
‘Paul…I don’t understand.’
‘The person who sent you this record knew that you’d be puzzled by it,’ Paul Temple explained, ‘and he knew, without a shadow of doubt, that the first thing you’d want to do would be to satisfy your curiosity by playing it.’
‘Well?’ she inquired.
Paul Temple began to grow a little excited. His reason had told him something he did not even care to think about.
‘Steve, don’t you see?’ he asked urgently. ‘That’s the whole point! The Knave wants you to play this record – and immediately you do so, his purpose in sending it to you is fulfilled!’
‘But—but what is his purpose?’ asked Steve. Not yet had she begun to suspect what was in Paul Temple’s mind. ‘Why should he send me a gramophone record? If it contains a message, then—’
‘Any message it contains could have been sent to you in writing,’ interposed Temple quietly.
‘Yes, I—I suppose it could.’ But she was still very puzzled. ‘Then what’s on the record?’
‘Nothing,’ said Temple softly. ‘Nothing of importance. I’m sure of that.’
‘Then why should he send it?’ asked the bewildered Steve. ‘You said yourself his purpose was to get me to play it! If nothing is on the record, then—’
‘Yes, why should he send it?’ asked Temple in turn. He, too, was puzzled. ‘By Timothy!’ he exclaimed after a moment or two. ‘By Timothy, Steve!’ He hesitated. ‘The gramophone!’
‘The gramophone…?’
‘That’s what he wants!’ said Paul Temple in excited tones. ‘That’s what he wants He wants you to use the gramophone. Tell me,’ he said sharply, ‘has it always been in this position?’
‘Yes, always, only—’ Steve hesitated.
‘Well?’
Steve Trent had now caught Paul Temple’s excitement. ‘It looks as if it might have been moved slightly,’ she said. ‘It’s further against the wall as a rule. Oh, and look at the gauze on the speaker, why—’
‘It’s been altered, hasn’t it?’
‘Yes!’
Paul Temple walked back to the radio set and looked at it very carefully. He inspected the switches and the other controls; finally he bent down to examine the grill on the speaker itself.
Suddenly he jumped up and his face was set and determined.
‘What is it, Paul?’
‘Stand on one side!’ commanded Paul Temple quietly; then after a little while: ‘Steve, when you want to put a record on, you stand in front of the loud speaker like this, don’t you?’ And he stood in front of the radiogram, his arm stretched over it so that his hand was just above the tone arm.
‘Yes,’ she agreed.
‘And you lift the arm up and bring it across to the record?’ he continued.
‘That’s right!’
‘I’m going to do exactly the same, only I’m going to stand on one side instead – you’ll see why in a minute.’
He stood to one side of the radiogram, making sure at the same time that Steve was well back on the other side of the instrument. Then, very gingerly, he picked up the tone arm. He swung it over, as if to start the motor, just before setting the needle down on the groove of the record.
During that fraction of a second the room was filled with a loud, deafening report. A wisp of acrid smoke began to issue from the loud speaker grill.
‘Paul—’ ejaculated Steve, with a little cry, in sudden alarm.
Temple took her by the arm.
‘There’s a small revolver hidden by the speaker,’ he explained. ‘It’s been wired up with the tone arm. Immediately the arm was moved, the revolver was fired.’ He paused. His next words were ominous. ‘Now you know why he sent you the gramophone record. Obliging little fellow, isn’t he?’
Steve Trent shuddered visibly as she thought of the narrow escape she had experienced.
‘Thank goodness you were here when it arrived. Why, I—’
Paul Temple interrupted her.
‘How many people know that your real name is Harvey…Louise Harvey?’ he said.
‘Yourself,’ she replied, ‘Lord Broadhedge, the proprietor of The Evening Post, and Sir Graham Forbes.’ She thought a moment. ‘That’s all.’
Paul Temple nodded. ‘And Merritt, Inspector Merritt,’ he added. ‘I told him myself.’
‘Inspector
