Send for Paul Temple

Send for Paul Temple
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In the dead of night, a watchman is brutally attacked and with his dying breath cries out, “The Green Finger!” It is the latest in a series of robberies to take place that have left Scotland Yard mystified, and with no other choice but to call upon the expertise of Detective Paul Temple.Aided by the beautiful journalist Louise Harvey – affectionately known as Steve – the duo discover that this is not the first victim to warn of the dangerous and elusive ‘Green Finger’… who or what is it? The pair must work together to solve the deepening mystery.

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FRANCIS DURBRIDGE

Send for Paul Temple



An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by

LONG 1938

Copyright © Francis Durbridge 1938

All rights reserved

Francis Durbridge has asserted his right under the Copyright,

Designs and Patents Act, 1988 to be identified as the author of this work

Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2015

Cover image © Shutterstock.com

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008125523

Ebook Edition © June 2015 ISBN: 9780008125530

Version: 2015-06-01

CHAPTER I

Conference at Scotland Yard

‘Superintendent Harvey and Inspector Dale, sir!’

‘All right, Sergeant, you can go. Let me have the map some time before noon.’

Sir Graham Forbes, the Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police, stood up to greet the new arrivals. He was a tall man with iron-grey hair and a sparse figure. Even the black coat and striped trousers, which gave him the appearance of a City stockbroker, could not conceal that his early career had been spent with the Army. He contrasted strangely with the two men who now came into his office at Scotland Yard.

Dale was a man of medium height and build who always seemed unhappy and helpless without his bowler hat, and the umbrella which nobody ever remembered seeing unfurled.

The superintendent was a full head taller. He was a man of mighty frame whose bronzed face might have made the casual stranger mistake him for the more successful type of farmer. But he possessed a fund of wisdom and mellow humour, coupled with an astuteness that he would reveal in some urbane remark, that few farmers possessed.

Superintendent Harvey and Chief Inspector Dale had been placed in charge of the mysterious robberies, the size and scope of which had literally staggered the country. It was now their unpleasant task to give the Commissioner an account of yet another mysterious robbery which had occurred in Birmingham only a few hours before.

‘It’s the same gang, sir!’ Chief Inspector Dale was saying. He spoke quietly, but the calm, clear note of efficiency sounded in his voice. ‘There’s no question of it. £8,000 worth of diamonds.’

The Commissioner looked worried. Monocle in hand, he strode backwards and forwards across the heavily carpeted room.

‘The night watchman is dead, sir!’ Superintendent Harvey added.

‘Dead?’ There was no mistaking the surprise in Sir Graham’s’ voice.

‘Yes.’

‘The poor devil was chloroformed,’ Dale explained. ‘I don’t think they meant to kill him. According to the doctor, he was gassed during the War, and his lungs were pretty groggy.’

The news had not put Sir Graham in the best of tempers. ‘This is bad, Dale!’ he said irritably. ‘Bad!’ he repeated with emphasis.

‘He was a new man,’ said Harvey. ‘He’d only been with Stirling’s a month or so.’

‘Did you check up on him?’

‘Yes. His name was Rogers. “Lefty” Rogers. He was working at Stirling’s under the name of Dixon.’

The hint in the superintendent’s words, and the inflexion of his voice was not lost on the Commissioner.

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