Send for Paul Temple Again! by Francis Durbridge

Author:Francis Durbridge
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Send for Paul Temple Again!
ISBN: 9780755134540
Publisher: House of Stratus
Published: 2013-01-10T16:00:00+00:00

Temple let himself quietly into the flat, and stood at the door of the lounge as he took off his gloves. Inside, he could hear Ricky saying: “Is there anything else I can get you, sir?”

“No, no,” came Lathom’s voice. “Nothing else, thanks.”

“Perhaps another glass of sherry, sir?”

Lathom said: “No, really, I’m quite all right.”

“Mr. Temple should be here any moment now, sir. It is just ten minutes since I telephoned, and he is extremely reliable in such matters.”

“How long have you been with him?” inquired Lathom.

“About forty-eight hours, sir.”

“Then surely you haven’t had much opportunity—”

“To certain insects, forty-eight hours is double the length of a lifetime,” murmured Ricky.

Temple smiled to himself and opened the door.

“Well, Lathom, what seems to be the trouble?” he asked as Ricky discreetly withdrew.

Lathom had risen to his feet, then sank back on to the settee. His face was drawn and haggard, and he seemed to be under a considerable nervous strain.

“I’m terribly sorry to drag you away from Scotland Yard, Temple,” he began apologetically.

“That’s all right. You didn’t drag me away. Anyhow, the Yard isn’t exactly my idea of an ideal spot for a busman’s holiday. Have a glass of sherry?” smiled Temple.

“I’ve just had one, thanks.”

“Well, have another. It’s quite harmless,” urged Temple. “Well . . . thanks.”

Temple carefully poured out two glasses and handed one to Lathom.

For a minute or two, they sipped it without speaking. Then Temple said: “You look worried. Anything wrong?”

“I am worried, Temple. Hellishly worried.” Lathom set down his glass. Temple noticed that his hand shook slightly.

“Suppose you start your story at the beginning,” suggested Temple quietly. “Take your time – there’s no hurry.”

“I wish I could start at the beginning!” exclaimed Lathom somewhat dramatically. “If only I could! That’s just the point, Temple. Where is the beginning? If I knew that I might be able to see things much more clearly.”

“All right,” nodded Temple equably. “Start wherever you please.”

Lathom’s face worked spasmodically, and at last he burst forth.

“Temple, when I met you in the doctor’s waiting-room yesterday morning, you said rather a strange thing. I haven’t forgotten it. You advised me to consult you if by any chance my hallucination returned.”

“Did I say that, Mr. Lathom?” asked Temple amiably, taking his cigarette-case.

“Of course you did!”

“Then,” murmured Temple, lighting a cigarette, “I must have had a very good reason.”

“Your reason is quite obvious to me now,” replied Lathom tensely. He leaned forward and added: “You don’t think it is an hallucination, do you?”

“Do you?” stalled Temple.

“No!” retorted Lathom fiercely. “No, I don’t! Every day— every night—wherever I go there’s someone following me! I feel it! I feel it instinctively!”

“But you felt it before – and Doctor Kohima convinced you that it was purely imagination,” Temple reminded him, taking another sip at his sherry.

“I tell you I’m being followed!” cried Lathom almost hysterically.

“All right,” said Temple quietly. “You’re being followed. So are dozens of other people. I have been myself quite a number of times. The world isn’t coming to an end yet, Mr.

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