Paul Temple and the Geneva Mystery. Francis Durbridge
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FRANCIS DURBRIDGE
Paul Temple and the Geneva Mystery
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by
Hodder & Stoughton 1971
Copyright © Francis Durbridge 1971
All rights reserved
Francis Durbridge has asserted his right under the Copyright,
Designs and Patents Act, 1988 to be identified as the author of this work
Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2015
Cover image © Shutterstock.com
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008125721
Ebook Edition © June 2015 ISBN: 9780008125738
Version: 2015-07-24
Contents
Paul Temple had returned to the real world after ten long weeks of concentration on death, disruption and deduction. He found to his relief that the world was not at war, he wasn’t being sued for libel and his wife was still radiantly attractive. All good reasons for a celebration.
‘Darling, how nice,’ Steve murmured as they went into L’Hachoire, ‘I haven’t been here before.’
‘They do the best pigs’ trotters in London,’ said Paul. ‘They were recommended to me by my publisher.’
‘Ah, Scott Reed. Was he pleased with the new novel?’
It was one of those exclusive little restaurants that achieve rustic simplicity at conspicuous expense, with genuine décor and furnishings from Provence and genuine Provençal chefs and waiters. There was a lot of unvarnished wood, an oven range squandered space that could have been occupied by three tables and a dog replaced three possible diners. The place was crowded with rather trendy Londoners and a few slightly surprised French tourists. The head waiter showed them to a table in the corner marked ‘Reserved’.
‘No no, we haven’t booked –’ Paul began.
‘A cancellation, Mr Temple. Please be seated. Madam.’
The