‘Your brother must have known a great deal about this man,’ Temple resumed at last.
‘Yes, a great deal,’ she replied. ‘And the day before he died, he passed that information on to me.’
‘To you!’ exclaimed Temple with surprise. ‘That may mean danger. Great danger.’ He spoke impressively. ‘You realize that?’
‘Yes.’
Temple paused to let the full significance of his remark sink in. Then he asked her another question.
‘What is it you know about Max Lorraine?’
‘I know that he has a small scar above the right elbow, that he smokes Russian cigarettes, and is devoted to a girl who answers to the name of Ludmilla,’ said Steve slowly.
Temple rose to his feet and started pacing up and down the room as though digesting this information. It was not until after some minutes had elapsed that he again spoke.
‘Miss Trent, you said you wanted my help. You said you wanted my help more than you’ve ever wanted anything in your life before. What did you mean by that?’
‘I meant that from now on I want it to be Paul Temple versus Max Lorraine!’
For a full two minutes Temple again remained silent. Still, he did not seem sure that he wanted to follow his inclinations and take a hand in this struggle. Then he began to laugh, rather quietly at first.
Steve Trent looked up at him as if wondering what new phase of himself he was going to show. ‘Why are you laughing?’ she asked.
‘I was just thinking of something Pryce said before you arrived here.’
‘Well?’
‘He said, you simply wouldn’t take “no” for an answer!’
That same afternoon, ‘The Little General’, only two or three miles from Paul Temple’s house, was the scene of a strange gathering. There were many men at Scotland Yard who would have given a year’s salary merely to have heard the conversation that took place in that mysterious Room 7.
Now that the body of Superintendent Harvey had been removed the inn had become famous, quite literally, overnight. Motorists, cyclists, and hikers arrived in a never-ceasing stream to see the place where the well-known police chief had met his unexpected fate. Detectives kept a close watch on all visitors, not that they entertained the hope of making an arrest, but they applied the old adage that a murderer always revisits the scene of his crime, and they did not intend to fail merely because they had neglected such elementary principles.
Chief Inspector Dale had made several visits to the inn. While in no way striving after the spectacular, he was spending as much time as he could on the ‘Midland Mysteries’, and he had delegated as much of his ordinary routine work at Scotland Yard as possible on to his subordinates. He had called on Paul Temple and had had long conversations with all who might know anything that had any bearing on Harvey’s death.
So far, however, the police had found no clue that might lead them towards a solution of the robberies and the death of Superintendent Harvey.
A few hours after Steve Trent and Paul Temple had been discussing the mysterious and elusive Max Lorraine, Dr. Milton was sitting, together with two other men, in Room 7 at ‘The Little General’. Horace Daley, the innkeeper, hovered vaguely in the background. But the innkeeper was not his normal ebullient self. He now very definitely yielded precedence to Dr. Milton, who was in full charge of the proceedings.
‘Is that quite clear, Dixie?’ the doctor was saying.
‘Yes, it seems quite clear,’ answered the man known as “Dixie”. ‘Diana will be parked at the corner of Regent Street. I’ve got to get from the jeweller’s to the car – pass the stuff over – and then mingle with the crowd in front of the dress shop.’
‘Yes, that’s right,’ Milton agreed. ‘And stay there,’ he ordered; ‘don’t make any attempt to sneak away until the crowd moves!’
‘Don’t worry, I won’t!’ said Dixie.
‘Have you looked the place over?’ inquired the doctor.
‘Yes. I had a look round this morning.’ Dixie paused. ‘Not very difficult. I should be out in a little under seven minutes.’
‘Good.’ Dr. Milton turned to the man known as “Skid”. Both Skid and Dixie were young men, not more than twenty-five, or twenty-six. Both were wearing cheap, ready-made lounge suits. Skid was a sharp-featured man who spoke quickly and never wasted his words. Dixie, on the other hand, to whom Dr. Milton had already been talking, was almost moonfaced. He appeared of a pleasanter disposition than Skid, and even showed traces of a real sense of humour. He was tall enough to be a guardsman, and was a good head taller than Skid.
Dr. Milton now took a map out of his pocket and opened it on one of the little tables. ‘Now, Skid, I want you to have a look at this map,’ he said. ‘You see Regent Street? That’s where Diana will park the car. Now take a look at the Parade. You can see the jeweller’s and the dress shop the moment you come round the bend. The Chief wants you to come round that corner at seven-forty precisely. You should reach the dress shop about seven-forty-one. Then let it rip! Got that?’
‘Yeah,’ replied Skid, implying that all this sort of thing was to Skid as easy as sleeping; ‘I got it all right.’
‘And we want a good job made of this,’ continued Dr. Milton. ‘No half-measures. Straight through the dress-shop window, you understand, Skid?’
Skid nodded. ‘Sure!’
‘We want noise, and plenty of it!’
‘Don’t worry,’ answered Skid, somewhat impatiently. ‘I’ll wake up the whole blasted town.’
‘Good,’ said the doctor, finally satisfied that his instructions had made the necessary impression.
Horace Daley moved towards the group and took out the home-made cigarette which hung down from the corner of his mouth.
‘Well, thank Gawd it’s you on the lorry, an’ not me!’ he said.
‘You’ll be all right, Skid, provided you keep your head,’ said the doctor again. ‘All you’ve got to do is make it look genuine.’
‘It’ll look genuine all right!’ Skid assured him.
‘Well, I hope so!’
Dixie had been regarding the scene with clear impatience over his face. In their own sphere they were competent workmen and he felt that Dr. Milton ought to be more certain of them. But he still had a question to ask.
‘Do I wait for the smash before I—’
Dr. Milton interrupted him. ‘No, at 7.40 get to work. You won’t have much time, but it shouldn’t take any longer than the Gloucester job.’
‘Don’t worry about me, Doc,’ said Dixie. ‘I’ll be out of there in no time. Have you got a list of the stuff?’
‘I’m expecting Diana with it.’ Dr. Milton paused significantly. ‘She went to see the Chief this