Dead to the World: Based on Paul Temple and the Jonathan Mystery. Francis Durbridge

it’s true, isn’t it, that you were in the neighbourhood on the night this American student was murdered? – No, don’t bother to stall, Curly, we’ve got our information from top sources. Inspector Hyde sends his regards, by the way.’

      ‘So that’s who you’re workin’ for. Well you can just tell ’im from me that I ain’t—’

      ‘Let me bring you up to date, Curly. It’s Mr and Mrs Robert Scranton that I’m working for – the murdered boy’s parents. They’re rich Americans and they’ll pay a good price to anyone who’s helpful. They’ve asked me to investigate their son’s death.’

      ‘’Fraid you’ve taken on a very nasty job, mate.’

      ‘I thought you said you knew nothing about it!’ Holt put in swiftly.

      A slow smile spread over the ex-convict’s features. ‘So I did … Pretty quick, aren’t yer?… Well, you might prove a bit too quick for your own good one o’ these days. Take my advice and keep out o’ this Scranton business. From what I’ve ’eard it’s not the sort of thing for a toff like you to get mixed up in. And you wouldn’t want this little bird of yours to get hurt neither, now would you?’

      ‘I’m not so fragile,’ Ruth retorted. ‘Listen, Curly, aren’t you forgetting something?’

      ‘What’s that?’

      ‘Muswell Hill – six years ago?’

      ‘What … what the hell’s Muswell Hill got to do with it?’

      Holt said, bitingly, ‘Inspector Hyde leaned over backwards to help you then, because he thought you’d had a hard break. I think he saved you about four years in clink, didn’t he?’

      Curly was silent.

      ‘Have you forgotten, Curly?’ Ruth insisted. ‘I don’t think you have.’

      ‘What you drivin’ at?’

      ‘It’s perfectly simple,’ she said briskly. ‘Now’s your chance to pay back that favour.’

      ‘Why don’t he ask me hisself?’

      ‘Because he knows you wouldn’t be seen dead talking to him! He’s had to ask you through us.’

      Curly’s Adam’s apple worked convulsively and his hulking body seemed to screw itself into knots as he fought a battle with his conscience. Then a curtain of fear seemed to draw over his eyes and his voice was harsh as he declared, ‘We’re wastin’ time! Let’s get back to the nags, shall we? You got nothin’ for me, an’ I got nothin for you – nor Inspector Hyde neither. So let’s just part friends, shall we?’

      Holt began to protest but Curly cut him short. ‘Turn ’er round and drive back! And look sharp!’

      There seemed no point in arguing; Curly was flourishing the revolver in an ugly manner. Holt started up the engine again. He glanced in the rear mirror and waited for a small delivery van to overtake him, experiencing a motorist’s twinge of annoyance at the way it crawled past. When it had gone the path was clear for Holt to swing in a U-turn to the other side of the road.

      Curly had not seen the van; he had been busy stuffing the gun into his raincoat pocket. He looked up just as Holt was pulling out of the turn. Instantly, he hurled himself over the back of the seat, swearing vehemently, and peered out of the rear window. ‘Look out – he’s stopping!… He’s goin’ into a turn!… For Christ’s sake step on it!’

      Holt slipped into second gear and thrust his foot down, uncomprehending, but recognising fear in Curly’s voice. In the rear mirror he saw the van swing into a U-turn just as he had done. A second later it was in swift pursuit and, judging by the speed at which it began to catch up with them, this was no ordinary delivery van but a harmless looking exterior containing a hotted-up engine.

      ‘What’s all this about, Curly?’ Holt shouted.

      ‘Keep yer ’ead down! Just keep yer bloody ’ead down!’ came the hoarse reply.

      Ruth was scrambling over the seat, clutching Holt’s pocket camera. A great hand flattened her to the floor. ‘Lie flat, you little idiot! D’you want to get killed?’