Paul Temple and the Geneva Mystery. Francis Durbridge

across her forehead. The urchin grin she gave as Paul burst into the bedroom was apologetic. But Paul was too shocked to be amused. He sat on the bed tight lipped and anxious.

      ‘How are you now, Steve?’

      ‘Darling, I’m perfectly all right. I’ve a slight headache which would disappear if you’d let me get up and make a pot of tea.’

      ‘Kate is already making tea.’

      Steve looked slightly bashful. ‘Is Kate all right?’

      ‘Of course she’s all right, she’s an ex-policewoman. A little shaken up to begin with, but I increased her salary and she brightened up at once. The only other casualty was a taxi driver, and he was discharged from hospital as soon as they’d stuck some elastoplasts on his knee. So relax, stay in bed and be pampered.’

      Kate came bustling in with tea and biscuits. The whiff of crime was obviously in her nostrils – the tea was not of her usual standard and while it had been standing she had telephoned the Pentagon Garage to establish that they didn’t know a Mr Stone.

      ‘Well, we had to check,’ said Paul. ‘Perhaps you’d have another go at contacting Mrs Milbourne?’

      ‘Yes, Mr Temple,’ and she bustled out.

      ‘Paul, what happened this morning?’

      He poured the tea and passed her a cup. ‘This morning?’ he repeated innocently.

      ‘With Dolly Brazier.’

      ‘Oh, she tried to borrow some money from me. Poor Dolly, she’s always in some kind of trouble.’

      ‘Did you lend it to her?’

      ‘Of course not. She wanted a hundred pounds, and you know how these things develop. Once you start lending people money –’

      ‘I don’t believe a word of it,’ Steve interrupted. ‘If Dolly had needed money you’d have lent it to her. I know you, Paul. What did she really want?’

      Paul rearranged the flowers he had brought for her. They were gladioli and he wondered absently where flowers came from at this time of year. ‘She told me to take care,’ he said quietly. ‘Not to become involved.’ Perhaps they were imported from the Bahamas. If they have gladioli in the Bahamas.

      ‘Involved in what?’ Steve asked. ‘In the Milbourne affair?’

      ‘I didn’t intend to tell you about this, Steve,’ he said. ‘Not today. You need to rest –’

      ‘I’ll rest when I know what’s going on. I have to be kept in the picture, and you just remember that, Temple!’

      Paul laughed and said, ‘Of course I will, darling.’ He kissed her and ruffled her hair so that it partially covered the bandage. ‘I’ll rest better myself when I know what’s going on.’ He went to the door and blew her a kiss. ‘Sleep well, darling.’

      He found Kate in his workroom, sitting at his desk and talking briskly on the telephone. Daunting, Paul thought to himself, she must have routed crime like a battleship in her day. He had a brief mental picture of her tossing gangsters across the police station, reducing full grown bruisers to tears.

      ‘No lead there, Mr Temple,’ she said as she hung up. ‘Mrs Milbourne didn’t tell anyone about her visit, except her brother. She hasn’t seen many people socially since her husband –’

      ‘I’m not surprised. Kate, will you stay and keep an eye on my wife for a couple of hours? I think I’d better visit Mrs Milbourne’s brother. And after that I might find out a little more about Dolly Brazier’s current job.’

      Maurice Lonsdale greeted him like an old friend and insisted that they should dine together. ‘So much more civilised than talking in the office,’ he said. ‘I’m told the trout is superb this week.’

      Paul agreed to sample the trout.

      ‘I’m glad you saw my sister, Temple.’ He had a good memory and ordered the dry sherry Paul had had the last time. ‘But I hope you didn’t take her story too seriously. You see, Margaret has always been highly strung, even when she was in the theatre.’

      ‘Apart from being highly strung,’ said Paul, ‘she’s also highly intelligent. I don’t think we can completely dismiss everything she says.’

      ‘Good gracious me, of course not,’ he said quickly. ‘I’m not suggesting we should, Temple. Not for one minute. But I did go out to Switzerland with her. I saw Carl after the accident and I identified him.’ He paused while the waiter placed the soup before them. ‘However, you’re a busy man. I’m sure you had a particular reason for coming to see me this evening.’

      Paul nodded. ‘I want to know who else you’ve discussed this business with. Who, apart from your sister, knows that I’ve been consulted?’

      ‘A curious question,’ he murmured thoughtfully.

      ‘An important one.’

      Lonsdale thought for a moment. ‘I may have mentioned you casually to some friends or acquaintances when we were talking about my sister. I would have seen no reason for not doing so.’ He tipped the bowl in the wrong direction to reach the last spoonful of soup. ‘Why is it so important?’

      ‘Because,’ Paul said grimly, ‘while my wife and I were talking to you last night my car was stolen. The man who stole it was shot – in mistake for me. And at lunchtime today there was a deliberate attempt to kill my wife.’

      Lonsdale stared in amazement. As he blinked it looked as if he were lowering shutters over the cold grey eyes to keep out the truth. ‘And you think that both these –’

      ‘I think that someone is deliberately trying to stop me taking an interest in the Milbourne case.’

      Lonsdale shook his head and muttered, ‘No, it’s not possible. No, never.’ He pushed the empty plate aside and looked again at Paul. ‘There’s only one person, but she’s the soul of discretion. I discussed my sister and the car accident at length with a very good friend of mine, and I remember I did mention you. She had read several of your books –’

      ‘Could you tell me her name?’

      ‘Freda Sands.’

      Paul had heard of Freda Sands. She ran a secretarial bureau in Baker Street, and whenever highly successful businesswomen were needed by television or press interviewers they contrived to interview her. She was dynamic, attractive, and she didn’t believe in the equality of the sexes because she knew she was superior to any man. She made good copy and she photographed well. Paul wondered where she found the time to read his books.

      ‘You must meet her,’ said Lonsdale, ‘I’m sure both you and Mrs Temple would enjoy her company. I’ll arrange a little dinner party one evening.’

      ‘That would be pleasant,’ Paul murmured.

      He was wondering whether this was the flaw in Lonsdale’s character – the social ambitions of a millionaire to know and be seen with the fashionable people of the moment. As Paul was thinking this through the waiter approached the table with a message.

      ‘Excuse me, Mr Lonsdale,’ he said, ‘but I have a message for Mr Temple. An Inspector Vosper telephoned. He wants to see you immediately, sir, at the Middlesex Hospital.’

      ‘Did he say why?’ asked Paul, rising in alarm.

      ‘No, sir. But it sounded urgent.’

      Lonsdale rose to his feet as well. ‘Gaston, send my chauffeur round to the entrance. I’m sorry, Temple, I hope it’s nothing to do with your wife’s accident. My chauffeur will run you to the hospital in ten minutes.’

      ‘That’s very kind of you.’

      Charlie Vosper was sitting in the corridor of the casualty wing, smoking an impatient cigarette under a No Smoking notice when Paul arrived. He stubbed out the cigarette on