and her uncle, Dr. Milton, dined with me a fortnight ago.’
‘And you noticed the wristlet watch?’
‘Yes, I noticed it,’ he answered thoughtfully. ‘And so did Alec. And so did the constable at Leamington.’ He suddenly looked up. ‘Do you know, Steve, I think it might be quite a good idea if we paid Dr. Milton a visit!’
Paul Temple liked to take his life in a leisurely fashion. It went with his slight tendency to drawl. He, of all men, always seemed to have an infinite amount of time. Perhaps because the busiest of men are always able to fit even more into their schedule. But Paul Temple was also essentially a man of action. He could take the initiative better than anyone else, and rapid movement and thinking came as naturally to him as they did to Steve. For Steve, too, liked action. She lived in a world of action, for nothing requires more rapid thinking, more rapid work than an evening newspaper. And much as she admired what she regarded as Paul Temple’s perpetual pose, she herself could never adopt it.
They thought over the suggestion of the visit to Dr. Milton. To think was to decide.
‘No time like the present!’ said Steve with expectancy and excitement in her voice.
Paul Temple said nothing. By way of answer, he left the room. Two minutes later he was back, clad in his huge grey camel-hair coat; in his hand, his large fur-lined gloves and battered felt hat.
He looked at Steve a little quizzically.
‘Coming?’ he asked.
‘Right now!’ she answered happily. She jumped up and went to put on her coat. She might have been going to a cheery summer picnic.
She had not noticed the highly significant bulge in Paul Temple’s overcoat pocket.
‘I should ring again!’ said Steve.
She was standing outside Dr. Milton’s house with Paul Temple. A few yards away, in the drive, stood the car in which they had arrived from Bramley Lodge a few minutes before.
Once again Paul Temple pressed the bell-push. In the distance they could hear the peal of the electric bell echoing through the house. The noise stopped and everything was as still as before. The atmosphere seemed strained and eerie, as though immediately before a thunderstorm. Steve gripped her companion’s arm. Through his thick overcoat he could feel the strength with which she held him.
‘There doesn’t seem to be anyone in, as far as I can—’ He broke off. ‘Just a minute!’
Resounding through the hall, they could hear footsteps approaching. Next they heard bolts being drawn and presently the door opened. Before them stood Snow Williams.
‘Good evening, sir,’ he said quietly.
‘I should like to see Dr. Milton,’ said Temple. ‘My name is—’
‘Dr. Milton is out!’ the other interrupted. ‘He went into Evesham about an hour ago.’
‘Oh. Oh, I see,’ Temple replied. ‘Er, then perhaps Miss Thornley would—’
‘Miss Thornley is with the doctor, sir.’ Snow Williams spoke in his dispassionate voice, and instinctively Paul Temple felt there was no truth in what he was saying.
‘Oh. Er, that’s rather unfortunate, isn’t it?’ he said after a moment’s pause.
‘Was the doctor expecting you, sir?’
‘No,’ replied Temple. ‘No, I don’t think he was. Still, if he’s only popped into Evesham, it might be quite a good idea if we waited.’
Snow Williams did not appear to welcome the proposal.
‘I hardly think the doctor will be back for quite a little while, sir.’
‘Oh, er, don’t you?’ asked Temple. ‘Still, I think we’ll wait,’ he said pleasantly.
Snow Williams hesitated.
‘Very good, sir,’ he said at last. ‘This way, if you please.’
He closed the door and led the way through a large and stately hall. Their footsteps echoed over the parquet floor. One or two oil paintings hung on the walls. On an old-fashioned carved mahogany stand hung a collection of coats and hats.
The ‘butler’ opened a door and showed them into a large, comfortable room which appeared to be in frequent use. Newspapers and periodicals littered the tables and chairs. Among them Paul Temple noticed a copy of the Police Review and suppressed a smile. On the mantelpiece stood a number of small gilt statuettes. The doctor seemed fond of sculpture. In a corner of the room stood a statue, half life size, of Aphrodite. In the hall, Paul Temple had seen another large marble statue of Apollo. Dr. Milton was apparently very classical in his tastes, if a little obvious, Paul Temple reflected.
‘This is the lounge, sir,’ Snow Williams informed them. ‘I’ll let you know immediately the doctor returns.’
‘Splendid!’
‘What name shall I—’
‘Temple. Paul Temple.’
A look of surprise came into the man’s eyes.
‘Temple?’ he repeated. He paused, then seemed to recollect himself. ‘Oh, thank you, sir.’
Then he left the room and closed the door.
Steve Trent did not know whether to laugh or shudder at this strange specimen of humanity.
‘Well, I don’t think Boris Karloff would keep him awake!’ she remarked to Paul Temple.
The novelist began to laugh. ‘Behind that rough exterior there probably lurks a heart of gold!’
‘Lurks is about right, if you ask me!’ laughed Steve.
Neither of them seemed to have any inclination just to sit down and await the arrival of Dr. Milton. Together they started examining the room. All the furniture and decorations were obviously of the best. A beautiful old silk Turkish rug lay in front of the fire. Indeed, the room could scarcely have been more luxuriously equipped.
‘I say,’ remarked Paul Temple at last, ‘it’s a pretty impressive sort of place, this, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ she agreed. Then she turned to the mantelpiece and pointed to the little figures on it. ‘Our friend, the doctor, certainly believes in statues!’
‘Nothing particularly modest about ’em, either!’ remarked Paul Temple.
Steve rippled with laughter as she contemplated the nudity to which he referred. Meanwhile Temple walked over to give them a closer examination, and Steve began
