should Doctor Steiner, a respectable university professor, want that letter?’ asked Steve.
‘I presume you have only his word for his identity,’ said Forbes. ‘What’s his nationality?’
‘Oh, obviously Austrian, I should say. Most probably Viennese,’ said Temple.
‘Well, it seems a remarkable coincidence that he should be staying here the very night that Noel Hammond—’
‘Who is Noel Hammond?’ demanded Temple. ‘And who’s this man Draper? And who the devil is—’
‘I can’t tell you now, Temple,’ snapped Forbes. ‘Come to my room after dinner—no, I’ll come down here. It will be safer. We must get that letter back – no matter what happens we must get that letter!’
He regarded them both with a grim smile. ‘I think you will be interested to know why I came to Scotland instead of going to the South of France.’
He turned to the door. ‘I’ll see you both here, in about an hour.’
‘Yes, all right,’ agreed Temple.
After Forbes had departed, Temple carefully folded his coat and placed it in a drawer. Neither spoke for a minute or two, then Steve suggested they should go down to dinner. Her husband was busy unlocking a suitcase, and did not appear to be listening.
‘Is anything the matter, Steve?’ he said suddenly.
‘No – nothing,’ she replied with a tiny gulp, but he could see that her eyes were slightly misty.
‘You’re worried, aren’t you?’ he challenged her, taking hold of her shoulders and looking at her closely. ‘You’re upset about this business.’
‘Yes,’ admitted Steve at length.
‘Why?’
She sighed.
‘Well, so many things have started like this, haven’t they? The Front Page Men, that awful business with the Knave of Diamonds, and—’
Temple gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. ‘Darling, if you want to leave here first thing in the morning – we leave. And nothing on earth will stop us.’
‘You’re very sweet,’ whispered Steve gently, rubbing her cheek against his rough tweed coat. Somewhere below a gong boomed insistently. Temple smiled.
‘I rather fancy that’s for our benefit,’ he said.
2
An hour later two men knocked cautiously at the door of Mrs Moffat’s shop. They seemed reluctant to be seen, but they need not have feared, for practically every person in that tiny hamlet was in bed, though it was little after nine. There was a sound of bolts being withdrawn, and Mrs Moffat eventually peered through the few inches between door and lintel. When she recognised them she opened the door swiftly, and they went inside.
‘What happened?’ she demanded quickly, setting the flickering candle on the counter and facing them.
‘We missed him,’ growled van Draper.
Mrs Moffat eyed them suspiciously.
‘It’s no good hiding things, Draper,’ said Guest. ‘She’ll have to know sooner or later.’
‘Something went wrong?’ speculated Mrs Moffat, leaning an elbow on the counter.
Guest nodded. ‘We stopped the car and dished out a cock and bull story about Lindsay being out of his mind. They seemed to swallow it all right, but…’
He took the packet of postcards from his pocket.
‘Instead of handing over the letter, he presented us with these damn things!’
Mrs Moffat recognised the envelope with a grim smile. Taking out the postcards, she carefully replaced them on the stand.
‘That was canny of ye both, I must say,’ was her only comment.
‘We can’t stand here all night,’ snorted van Draper impatiently. ‘Let’s go upstairs.’
But Mrs Moffat did not offer to move.
‘Why are ye both so anxious to get that letter?’ she persisted. ‘What was in it?’
‘I’ve had my suspicions about Lindsay for a long time,’ said van Draper. ‘Tonight they were—’
‘My God!’ cried Mrs Moffat suddenly, her face grotesquely distorted by the guttering candlelight. ‘Ye don’t mean to say he’s—’
‘His name is Hammond – Noel Hammond,’ replied van Draper with savage deliberation. ‘He’s a British Agent. We ought to have checked up on him long ago, instead of accepting one person’s word.’
‘But Z.2 recommended him,’ insisted Mrs Moffat. ‘She swore he was safe.’
‘The little fool was taken in by him,’ said Guest contemptuously.
‘Z.2. That’s Iris Archer, isn’t it?’ queried van Draper thoughtfully. ‘She’s always liable to fall for that type. That’s her one weakness. We should have realised that.’
Mrs Moffat set her lips in a firm line of disapproval. ‘You have always said that Lindsay was a good man at his job,’ she reminded them.
‘Hardwick always said so,’ van Draper agreed. ‘Though just lately they don’t seem to have been hitting it off too well.’
‘Well, whatever happens, we’ve got to get Lindsay,’ declared Guest in ruthless tones.
‘That’s imperative,’ said van Draper.
‘Why is it so imperative?’ Mrs Moffat wanted to know.
‘Why?’ spluttered van Draper impatiently. ‘Good God, woman, don’t you realise that Lindsay can blow up the whole bag of tricks? He’s been working with Hardwick on the screen…he knows about us – about Z.4—’
‘About Z.4?’ put in Mrs Moffat rapidly. ‘What exactly does he know about Z.4?’
‘He knows that Z.4 is behind Hardwick,’ said van Draper slowly. ‘Also that Z.4 is at the head of the greatest espionage organisation in Europe.’
‘But does he know who Z.4 is?’ pursued Mrs Moffat.
Guest shrugged his shoulders. ‘Do any of us?’
‘That’s not the point,’ van Draper cut in. ‘Lindsay or Hammond, whichever you like to call him, knows a great deal too much. There’s Hardwick to start with…’
‘And don’t you think the British Intelligence people know about Hardwick?’ suggested Mrs Moffat.
‘Of course they do,’ retorted van Draper. ‘But fortunately for us they
