‘I’m in rather a hurry, Paul,’ he started, ‘but I—er—’ His voice tailed away in some embarrassment. ‘I—er, happened to be passing, and—er—’
Paul Temple came to his rescue.
‘That’s all right, Alec. You can speak in front of Miss Trent.’
‘Oh, good. Well, your little publicity stunt about the “Trenchman” diamond seems to be working all right. We’ve certainly had plenty of inquiries.’
‘Oh?’ questioned Temple.
‘Most of them, of course, are quite legitimate,’ Alec Rice explained. ‘People in the trade. Firms we’ve dealt with for years. But this morning, about eleven o’clock, I think it was, a girl came into the shop. She asked to see some statuettes we had in the window; she examined one or two, and eventually bought one. Just before she was leaving, however, she asked to see your stone. She said she’d read something about it in one of the newspapers.’
He paused. Paul Temple had been listening intently, while Steve had hardly dared move in case she missed a word.
‘Go on!’ said Temple.
‘Well, there’s nothing more to tell, really. She admired the diamond we showed her and, and that was the finish of it.’
Paul Temple nodded. It was a sure sign that he was very deeply interested. ‘What did she look like?’ he asked.
‘Dark!’ said Alec Rice briefly. ‘Sort of—’ Again he seemed a trifle embarrassed. Temple suspected at least a few seconds light flirtation between the two. ‘Sort of voluptuous!’ he explained.
A very feminine ripple of laughter came from Steve. Alec Rice tried to prevent the slight blush he felt stealing over his face.
‘Good looking?’ questioned Temple.
‘Yes,’ was the answer. ‘Yes, I suppose she was.’
‘Well, something must have impressed you about her, or—’
Alec Rice attempted to redeem himself in Steve Trent’s eyes.
‘As a matter of fact, old boy, I got the impression that all this business about the statuettes was a sort of blind. I think the real reason for her visit was to have a jolly good “decko” at the diamond.’
‘Was she tall?’ asked Paul Temple.
The jeweller was a little dubious. ‘Yes, I—er—I suppose she was,’ he said hesitantly.
Paul Temple laughed. ‘You don’t seem to have been very observant!’
‘Good Lord, old boy – you can hardly—’ His voice tailed off as he struggled to recollect some detail or other about the girl’s appearance. ‘I say, just a minute!’ he suddenly started. ‘I tell you what I did notice. She had a rather snappy wristlet watch. Looked to me as if it was made of onyx or something. It was—’
Temple finished the sentence for him.
‘It was black, with a diamond clasp, and a small platinum safety chain,’ he said quietly.
Alec Rice opened his mouth with surprise.
‘Yes, yes!’ he exclaimed as Paul Temple finished. ‘I say,’ he continued excitedly, ‘I say, do you know the girl?’
‘I think perhaps I do, Alec!’ replied the novelist softly. ‘I think perhaps I do.’
Temple rose and took from the mantelpiece a new pipe he had bought a few days before. It was a habitual gesture when he was thinking over some problem. For a few minutes there was silence in the room. At last the jeweller got up.
‘Oh, well,’ he said, ‘I must be toddling!’
Paul Temple was taken by surprise. ‘Look here,’ he said, ‘won’t you stop and have a drink or something?’
‘Sorry, old boy – in a frightful hurry!’ Alec Rice was always in a hurry about something or other, with a seemingly endless stream of appointments.
When Temple came back to the drawing-room, after showing his friend out, he found a very puzzled Steve waiting for him.
‘Did you know the girl he was talking about?’ she started.
‘Yes!’ answered her host. ‘Her name is Diana Thornley. She and her uncle, Dr. Milton, dined with me a fortnight ago.’
‘And you noticed the wristlet watch?’
‘Yes, I noticed it,’ he answered thoughtfully. ‘And so did Alec. And so did the constable at Leamington.’ He suddenly looked up. ‘Do you know, Steve, I think it might be quite a good idea if we paid Dr. Milton a visit!’
Paul Temple liked to take his life in a leisurely fashion. It went with his slight tendency to drawl. He, of all men, always seemed to have an infinite amount of time. Perhaps because the busiest of men are always able to fit even more into their schedule. But Paul Temple was also essentially a man of action. He could take the initiative better than anyone else, and rapid movement and thinking came as naturally to him as they did to Steve. For Steve, too, liked action. She lived in a world of action, for nothing requires more rapid thinking, more rapid work than an evening newspaper. And much as she admired what she regarded as Paul Temple’s perpetual pose, she herself could never adopt it.
They thought over the suggestion of the visit to Dr. Milton. To think was to decide.
‘No time like the present!’ said Steve with expectancy and excitement in her voice.
Paul Temple said nothing. By way of answer, he left the room. Two minutes later he was back, clad in his huge grey camel-hair coat; in his hand, his large fur-lined gloves and battered felt hat.
He looked at Steve a little quizzically.
‘Coming?’ he asked.
‘Right now!’ she answered happily. She jumped up and went to put on her coat. She might have been going to a cheery summer picnic.
She had not noticed the highly significant bulge in Paul Temple’s overcoat pocket.
CHAPTER XVI
Going Down!
‘I should ring again!’ said Steve.
She was standing outside Dr. Milton’s house with Paul Temple. A few yards away, in the drive, stood the car in which they had arrived from Bramley Lodge a few minutes before.
Once again Paul Temple pressed the bell-push. In the distance they could hear the peal of the electric bell echoing through the house. The noise stopped and everything was as still as before. The atmosphere seemed strained and eerie, as though immediately before a thunderstorm. Steve gripped her companion’s arm. Through his thick overcoat he could feel the strength with which she held him.
‘There doesn’t seem to be anyone in, as far as I can—’ He broke off. ‘Just a minute!’
Resounding through the hall, they could hear footsteps approaching. Next they heard bolts being drawn and presently the door opened. Before them stood Snow Williams.
‘Good evening, sir,’ he said quietly.
‘I should like to see Dr. Milton,’ said Temple. ‘My name is—’
‘Dr. Milton is out!’ the other interrupted. ‘He went into Evesham about an hour ago.’
‘Oh. Oh, I see,’ Temple replied. ‘Er, then perhaps Miss Thornley would—’
‘Miss Thornley is with the doctor, sir.’ Snow Williams spoke in his dispassionate voice, and instinctively Paul Temple felt there was no truth in what he was saying.
‘Oh. Er, that’s rather unfortunate, isn’t it?’ he said after a moment’s pause.
‘Was the doctor expecting you, sir?’
‘No,’ replied Temple. ‘No, I don’t think he was. Still, if he’s only popped into Evesham, it might be quite a good idea if we waited.’
Snow Williams did not appear to welcome the proposal.
‘I hardly think the doctor will be back for quite a little while, sir.’
‘Oh, er, don’t you?’ asked Temple. ‘Still, I think we’ll wait,’ he said pleasantly.
Snow Williams hesitated.
‘Very good, sir,’ he said at last. ‘This way, if you please.’
He closed the door and led the way through a large and stately hall. Their footsteps echoed over the parquet floor. One or two oil paintings hung on the walls. On an old-fashioned carved mahogany stand hung a collection of coats and hats.
The ‘butler’ opened a door and showed them into a large, comfortable room whi
ch appeared to be in frequent use. Newspapers and periodicals littered the tables and chairs. Among them Paul Temple noticed a copy of the Police Review and suppressed a smile. On the mantelpiece stood a number of small gilt statuettes. The doctor seemed fond of sculpture. In a corner of the room stood a statue, half life size, of Aphrodite. In the hall, Paul Temple had seen another large marble statue of Apollo. Dr. Milton was apparently very classical in his tastes, if a little obvious, Paul Temple reflected.
‘This is the lounge, sir,’ Snow Williams informed them. ‘I’ll let you know immediately the doctor returns.’
‘Splendid!’
‘What name shall I—’
‘Temple. Paul Temple.’
A look of surprise came into the man’s eyes.
‘Temple?’ he repeated. He paused, then seemed to recollect himself. ‘Oh, thank you, sir.’
Then he left the room and closed the door.
Steve Trent did not know whether to laugh or shudder at this strange specimen of humanity.
‘Well, I don’t think Boris Karloff would keep him awake!’ she remarked to Paul Temple.
The novelist began to laugh. ‘Behind that rough exterior there probably lurks a heart of gold!’
‘Lurks is about right, if you ask me!’ laughed Steve.
Neither of them seemed to have any inclination just to sit down and await the arrival of Dr. Milton. Together they started examining the room. All the furniture and decorations were obviously of the best. A beautiful old silk Turkish rug lay in front of the fire. Indeed, the room could scarcely have been more luxuriously equipped.
‘I say,’ remarked Paul Temple at last, ‘it’s a pretty impressive sort of place, this, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ she agreed. Then she turned to the mantelpiece and pointed to the little figures on it. ‘Our friend, the doctor, certainly believes in statues!’
‘Nothing particularly modest about ’em, either!’ remarked Paul Temple.
Steve rippled with laughter as she contemplated the nudity to which he referred. Meanwhile Temple walked over to give them a closer examination, and Steve began to laugh anew.
‘Hello! Hello!’ he exclaimed, looking down from the mantelpiece to the grate below.
‘What is it?’ Steve asked, now serious again.
‘Dear, oh dear! It looks as if our friend Mr. Karloff was spinning a little story when he said the doctor and Diana left an hour ago.’
‘Why?’
‘There’s a cigarette-end in the fireplace and it obviously hasn’t been there very long, judging from appearances.’
Steve did not take the discovery quite so seriously as her companion. ‘Perhaps the butler was having a quiet little smoke!’ she remarked. ‘That would account for him keeping us waiting.’
‘It wouldn’t account for the lip rouge on the cigarette, dearie!’ said Paul Temple, ironically. ‘Unless we’ve greatly misjudged our friend.’
Steve Trent joined him in front of the fireplace and proceeded to examine the beautiful little statuettes. They were perfect specimens of workmanship. Indeed, two of them looked as if they were of solid gold and worth an immense sum of money. Suddenly Steve came to a stop before one of the statues.
‘I say, Paul—’ she started.
‘Yes?’
‘This is a funny sort of thing, isn’t it?’
‘What is it?’ asked Paul Temple quietly.
‘I don’t know,’ Steve answered. ‘Looks like a figure of something or other…’
Being gifted with an exceptionally large measure of curiosity, Steve proceeded to finger the strange little statue. Its upper half seemed separate from the remainder.
‘The top part is quite loose!’ she exclaimed as she made the discovery. ‘Look, it—’ She suddenly hesitated.
Steve had turned the statue round, idly wondering whether it could be unscrewed. As she did so, a section of the oak panelling in the wall, several feet square, began slowly and softly to slide back.
‘Paul, look!’ she shouted across at him. ‘Look!’ she repeated.
Paul Temple came to her side and together they stared at this extraordinary discovery. Behind the panel all was intense darkness. Steve, full of excitement, returned to have another look at the little statue.
‘No, don’t touch the statue, Steve!’ Temple admonished her. He felt in his pockets, and extracted a flat pocket electric torch. ‘We must have a look at this!’ he said softly.
He switched the torch on and flashed the light through the aperture. It was not big enough for both of them to look through, together, and Steve found it hard to restrain her impatience.
‘Can you see anything?’ she asked at last.
Paul Temple withdrew his arms and head and looked into her anxious eyes.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It’s just a small room – nothing exciting about it. It’s not even furnished.’
‘Oh,’ said Steve, feeling a trifle disappointed.
‘Let’s have a look inside!’ he said, however. He managed to push back the panel a few inches and started climbing inside. The opening was now just big enough for a man to work his way through. The bottom of the opening was some two feet from the floor. Slowly and carefully, Paul Temple began to clamber through, watching for anything that might happen. Soon he was inside. Then he stretched out his arm to help Steve into the little room.
‘Come on, Steve!’ he encouraged her. ‘Can you get in all right?’
‘Yes!’ she replied, as she placed one foot on the other side of the panel, unconsciously revealing as she did so a length of perfectly shaped leg. Then she bent down and was soon inside the mysterious little room.
‘Not very impressive, is it?’ commented Paul Temple.
‘It doesn’t seem to be used at all as far as I can see,’ she replied. Nevertheless, there was very little dust on the floor. Both stood looking round, equally mystified.
‘Isn’t there a light?’ asked Steve.
‘Yes, but I’m blowed if I can see the switch,’ was the answer. Set in the middle of the ceiling was an opal glass bowl which betokened an electric light. Yet neither of them had noticed any sign of a switch which would work it.
‘Close the panel, Steve,’ Paul Temple hazarded. ‘I have an idea that might work it.’
She pulled the panel. Immediately the little chamber was flooded with light from the bowl above. They could now see their immediate surroundings better, but found there was still nothing extraordinary about them.
‘I thought it would,’ he said. ‘I could see the small notch in the corner of—’
He broke off as a strange noise came to their ears.
‘What’s that?’ he asked.
They listened intently. It was the sound of machinery. It might have been the whir of a dynamo or some electric motor. It seemed to come from somewhere close at hand.
‘It sounds like—’ Steve Trent started; then she broke off. She had been feeling the panel, trying to push it back.
‘Paul!’ she exclaimed in sudden alarm. ‘Paul! The panel won’t open!’
‘Won’t open!’ he repeated, gently pushing her aside. ‘Here, let me try.’ He struggled hard, but it refused to yield.
‘By Timothy!’ he said. ‘We’re locked in!’
They looked round in helpless amazement at their tiny prison.
They pushed at the sides of the chamber, but without avail. Their desperate search for some hidden button or switch that might put an end to their imprisonment met with immediate failure.
‘Listen!’ exclaimed Temple suddenly.
The hum of the machinery had gradually been growing louder. Now it seemed to fill the little room. An instant later, the floor started to tremble.
‘Paul!’ exclaimed Steve with immense trepidation, ‘Paul! We’re moving!’
‘Moving?’
‘It’s the room – can’t you feel it? Can’t you feel it?’
The hum of the machinery had swollen till now it reverberated in their ears. The entire room was
shaking.
Paul Temple paused. Then in sudden astonishment, he realized what was happening. ‘By Timothy, Steve – we’re in a lift!’
‘A lift!’ she repeated.
‘Keep still!’ he instructed.
The two stood watching each other, powerless to do anything.
Slowly, they realized that they were descending, that they were being carried into the depths of the earth. Steve stared at Temple with an expression of bewildered astonishment.
‘Paul!’ she shrieked. ‘We’re going down! We’re—going— down! We’re—going—down!!!!’
CHAPTER XVII
The Secret of the Lift
The hum of machinery continued. For what seemed an eternity Paul Temple and Steve Trent were imprisoned in the slowly descending lift. Neither spoke. Both could only wonder what would be the climax of this strange turn of events. There was scarcely room to move.
There was nothing to be seen. The panel was the only opening, and this was now closed. There was not even a grill of any kind through which they could peer as they descended.
Down and down it went. Seconds lengthened into minutes. Only the continued vibration told them they were still moving.
‘We’re stopping, Steve…’ said Temple. Suddenly, almost simultaneously, the lift gave a sharp jerk and the vibration ceased.
‘Open the panel, Steve!’
Steve was in a better position to slide it back than Temple.
‘I wonder where we are!’ she speculated, a little nervously, as she stretched out her arm to open it.
‘Probably the bargain basement!’ replied Paul Temple, with grim flippancy. ‘Here, I’ll try that!’ he exclaimed, as he saw that Steve’s efforts to open the panel were proving fruitless. With a twist of his arm, he had the panel open.
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