are you thinking of?’ asked Steve Trent at last.
Paul Temple hesitated. ‘I was just wondering how long Sir Graham had smoked Russian cigarettes!’ he said.
The door opened and Diana Thornley appeared.
‘Diana!’ There was amazement in Dr. Milton’s voice.
‘Has he been through here on the ’phone?’ asked Diana Thornley irritably, peeling off her gloves and throwing them on to the small oak bench.
The doctor looked up at her in surprise. ‘You mean the Chief?’
‘Yes,’ she replied impatiently. ‘Yes, of course.’
Dr. Milton seemed puzzled. ‘No, of course he hasn’t. I thought you went down to town to see him.’
‘I went to town, all right! I waited over three blasted hours in that tube station, and there wasn’t a sign of him.’
Surprise gave way to anxiety in Dr. Milton’s face. ‘I wonder why he didn’t turn up?’ he asked her.
‘I don’t know,’ she replied thoughtfully.
The two were sitting in the drawing-room of Dr. Milton’s house. It was three hours after the death of Skid Tyler at Scotland Yard.
For perhaps half an hour Dr. Milton had been alone in the room, pacing backwards and forwards, smoking innumerable cigarettes, continually looking at the clock.
When Diana Thornley came in, his eyes brightened for a moment, thinking that she might have news. Now both were sitting in front of the fireplace, equally dejected.
‘You haven’t heard anything further about Skid?’ asked Dr. Milton suddenly.
‘No,’ she replied. ‘They’re still holding him, as far as I know.’
‘I hope to God Skid doesn’t talk,’ he added anxiously. ‘That’s all I’m worried about.’
Just then the door opened, and a tall man moved slowly into sight. Snow Williams was a rather sinister individual in the late forties. He was wearing a drab, grey overcoat, and underneath it an equally drab grey suit with badly worn shoes. He was very thin, and the deathly pallor of his gaunt cheeks added to the unpleasantness of his appearance.
Even the hardened Diana Thornley felt uncomfortable in his presence.
Slowly, he came forward until he stood with his back to the fireplace. Then he took off his overcoat, hung it carefully over a chair, and lit one of Dr. Milton’s cigarettes. Only then did he speak.
‘Any news?’ he asked. His lips barely parted for the words to issue forth. It was a smooth, deep voice, that had, oddly enough, once known a public school, and even a university.
‘No,’ answered Diana abruptly.
‘Didn’t you see the Knave?’ he continued.
‘No,’ she replied again, this time even more impatiently.
Snow Williams seemed to share Dr. Milton’s nervousness. ‘Something’s in the wind!’ he said anxiously. ‘Something’s in the wind, if you ask me!’
‘Well, nobody’s asking you!’ said Diana, with obvious irritation in her voice.
Snow was in no way annoyed by her tone of voice.
‘It’s a devil of a time since the robbery, and we haven’t heard a word about Skid,’ he continued unperturbed. ‘I tell you, he’ll talk! He’ll talk!’
Dr. Milton looked as if he could scarcely restrain himself. ‘Shut up, Snow!’ he burst out angrily. Then after a little while he asked: ‘Have you seen Horace?’
‘Yes,’ was the reply.
‘What about the stuff?’
‘That’s all right,’ answered Snow. He chuckled in his throat. It was an eerie sound. ‘That’s all right!’ he repeated.
‘Then there’s nothing to worry about!’ exclaimed Dr. Milton. He pointed to a sideboard where stood decanters, siphons, bottles and glasses. ‘Mix me a drink, and you’d better mix yourself one too.’
Snow Williams walked over to the sideboard and opened a bottle of whisky. Just as he was pouring it out, a telephone bell began to ring.
‘That’s the Chief!’ said Dr. Milton. ‘It’s the special line.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Diana. ‘I’ll take it.’
She walked over to a cupboard in a corner of the room, pressed a hidden button, and watched a panel slide back to reveal a telephone. She lifted the receiver and started speaking.
‘Hello…Hello…Yes…Why didn’t you meet me? What? Yes…Yes, I’m listening…’
‘What is it?’ put in the doctor anxiously.
Diana signed to him to be still. ‘Yes…When?…Temple? Yes…Yes…I say, be careful! Milton is here now…Yes…Yes, all right. Goodbye!’
She replaced the receiver, pressed the button to close the panel, and rejoined the two men.
‘Well?’ asked Dr. Milton urgently.
‘How’s Skid?’ came from Snow Williams.
Diana Thornley looked hard at them both. ‘Skid’s dead!’ she announced.
‘Dead!’ echoed the doctor.
‘Yes!’ Diana Thornley paused. ‘He was going to—talk.’
‘He…he didn’t?’ inquired Dr. Milton anxiously.
‘No. The Knave got him in time.’
The doctor sighed with relief and took the drink Snow was offering him. ‘Why didn’t he meet you?’
‘He didn’t say,’ Diana Thornley replied. She paused, deep in thought. ‘You’d better get in touch with Horace, Snow!’ she instructed. ‘Tell him we meet again on Friday.’
‘Friday?’
‘There’s a jeweller’s at Nottingham called Trenchman,’ she explained. ‘They’ve got a new stone. The Chief wants me to have a look at it. I’m going over there tomorrow. If it’s as good as the reports say it is, then…we’ll discuss the matter on Friday with Dixie.’
‘Good!’ agreed Dr. Milton.
‘Oh,
