Send for Paul Temple Again!. Francis Durbridge

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      The man on the settee eyed Temple keenly. ‘Oh, I’m afraid I was rather jumping to conclusions,’ he said. ‘This is your first visit, perhaps?’

      ‘Well, yes,’ smiled Temple, ‘I suppose in a manner of speaking it is.’

      The other leaned forward and said in an earnest voice, ‘You won’t regret it.’

      ‘I hope not,’ said Temple, secretly wondering if the other man was quite normal.

      ‘Kohima’s a brilliant man. Really brilliant. Absolutely first class. Take my word for it.’

      Temple did not speak for a moment, but quietly eyed the fair-haired man very carefully. Then he said, ‘Forgive my asking, but haven’t we met before somewhere?’

      The other shook his head, and with just a shade too much emphasis replied, ‘I don’t think so. My name is Lathom – Carl Lathom.’

      ‘I thought so,’ nodded Temple, whose memory for faces was as reliable as a card index. ‘It was about six years ago, at Lady Forester’s.’

      Carl Lathom frowned.

      ‘I’m afraid I don’t actually remember the occasion,’ he admitted.

      ‘Then you’d hardly remember me. My name happens to be Temple.’

      Lathom’s face cleared.

      ‘Oh yes, of course. You write detective novels and things.’

      ‘Chiefly detective novels.’

      ‘Oh, please forgive me,’ said Lathom apologetically. ‘I didn’t mean to be rude.’

      ‘That’s all right,’ laughed Temple.

      ‘But I really must apologise. I know how sensitive one feels about one’s work. You see,’ he added, with a rueful sort of smile, ‘I once wrote a play myself.’

      ‘I remember it very well,’ Temple assured him.

      ‘Yes,’ nodded Carl, in a more indifferent tone, ‘it had quite a good run. Made me a lot of money.’

      ‘Congratulations.’

      Carl Lathom shrugged.

      ‘Oh, that was a long time ago,’ he murmured, as if the memory was not entirely pleasant.

      But Temple had suddenly recollected something else.

      ‘Tell me,’ he went on, in a casual tone, ‘wasn’t Norma Rice in your play?’

      ‘Yes, she had the lead. It was her first big chance in the West End. She was awfully good, too. Awfully good. The play was quite hopeless without her.’ After a brief pause, he added, ‘I say, did you see that in the newspapers? About Norma? It was a hell of a shock to me.’

      ‘A most distressing business,’ agreed Temple.

      ‘Oh, most distressing. A charming girl, too. Temperamental, of course, but that’s understandable. I got to know her quite a bit during rehearsals of the play, and it seemed to me that she had a morbid streak in her nature which might run away with her one day. When I first read about her death I should have been willing to lay ten to one that it was suicide.’

      Temple smiled.

      ‘But surely she would hardly have taken an overdose of Amashyer and then gone to the trouble to scrawl “Rex” on the carriage window…’

      Lathom shook his head.

      ‘That’s just the sort of crazy thing Norma would do – specially if she had happened to read about the Rex murders.’ He sighed. ‘There’s no accounting for some women. All the same, she was a great actress.’

      ‘Have you written anything else since that play?’ asked Temple.

      ‘Not a single word. I got caught up in the advertising game and then I had a sort of breakdown. I’ve been very ill during the past three or four years.’

      ‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ sympathised Temple.

      Lathom smiled. ‘Oh, I’m much better now, thank you.’

      ‘Thanks to Doctor Kohima?’

      ‘Entirely. He’s really first class. It’s difficult to explain without sounding rather schoolgirlish, but he is really, quite frankly, such a distinctive personality. Something keeps telling you that he is doing his utmost to work with you and straighten out all the kinks.’ He laughed a trifle self-consciously and added, ‘You can imagine that’s rather important with a psychiatrist.’ Opening a slim gold cigarette-case, he passed it over to Temple.

      After they lit their cigarettes, Lathom went on in a conversational tone, ‘Yes, I’ve been very groggy. Had one or two very nasty turns – the brain can play some devilish queer tricks, you know, Mr. Temple. As a matter of fact, strictly between ourselves, I’ve been suffering from – well – hallucinations.’

      Temple managed to conceal his surprise by taking a draw at his cigarette and slowly expelling a stream of smoke.

      ‘Of course, I’m cured now,’ continued Lathom rather more assertively. ‘But it was distinctly unpleasant while it lasted.’

      ‘I should imagine so,’ nodded Temple.’ Did the – er – hallucinations take any consistent form?’

      ‘Why, yes, I had the impression that everywhere I went I was being followed—’

      ‘Not by the police?’ queried Temple, who had often heard of this particular type of illusion.

      ‘No, nothing as lurid as that,’ laughed Lathom. ‘This was a girl who was following me around. A very attractive girl, too. I can see her now just as clearly as I see you sitting there. She had brown shoes – brown costume – brown handbag – perky little hat – silk stockings! I suppose, really, it was quite the nicest type of hallucination.’

      ‘Did you ever try to, well, to sort of corner the girl in brown?’ asked Temple, in an interested tone.

      ‘Time and again. But of course she was never there. She’d vanish quite completely – almost into thin air. It was quite uncanny. I don’t mind telling you it had me badly rattled.’

      ‘And you mean to say Doctor Kohima convinced you that she did not exist?’

      ‘That’s just what he did,’ Lathom assured Temple earnestly. ‘It’s taken him literally months of exhaustive research, but he’s done it! I can’t quite tell you how, but suddenly the lady in is no more. She’s vanished for the last time. No doubt about the doctor is brilliant – really quite brilliant.’

      He appeared to be about to enlarge further upon this question when the door opened, and a well-dressed woman of about thirty-five stood there.

      ‘The doctor’s sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Temple,’ she announced. ‘He’ll be able to see СКАЧАТЬ