oOo

Paul slept in late the following morning, but by the time he woke up, he felt his old self again. The after-effects of the drug had clearly worn off. While he had been too tired to fully notice the previous day, it now struck him how empty the double room felt without Steve's presence. It was strange how quickly he had gotten used to the routine of married life, even after having been a bachelor for years. He wondered whether things could ever go back to the way they had been, between Steve and him. But wondering and thinking about it, Paul reminded himself, wasn't going to help. Only time would tell. He had just emerged from the shower when the phone rang.

"Hallo?" he picked up the receiver and answered.

"A Detective Harrington wishes to speak to you on the phone, sir. Shall I put him through?" a male voice, most likely belonging to one of the hotel porters asked.

"Yes, put him through," Paul replied, wondering what news the detective had for him. He hoped he wasn't calling to tell him of Beverly Kingston's death. While Paul did not like the woman very much and frankly wondered how she and Steve had come to be friends, he held no ill will toward her. To his investigation she would be more use alive anyway, even if she wasn't tell him everything she knew. Much the same went for Peter Baxter, who also knew more than he was telling, that much Paul was certain of.

A click indicated that the call had been put through. "Mr Temple?" the now familiar voice asked.

"Yes, speaking. What's happened, Detective Harrington?"

"It seems that your wife has gone missing from hospital. As has Beverly Kingston."

Paul could hardly believe his ears. How could anything have happened to Steve?

"What happened?" he managed eventually.

"We don't know yet. She was discovered missing earlier this morning by a nurse. They unfortunately took their time in alerting us. Apparently, they first thought she had wandered off in confusion and searched for her all over the hospital. When they couldn't find her, they finally called us. About ten minutes earlier, we'd gotten the news that Mrs Kingston was nowhere to be found either."

Paul's mind was spinning. He felt almost like he had been thrown back in time to when he'd first learned that Steve had been shot. It was like falling into a bottomless pit for the second time.

He was barely listening when the detective went on. "My men are questioning hospital personnel right now to see if anyone saw anything. The way I figure it, their disappearance must be connected in some. It would be an awfully huge coincidence if they weren't."

"I agree," Paul said. "What about the man you posted for Steve's protection? Didn't he see anything?"

"He was knocked out from behind, tied up and dragged into a supply closet. We only found the poor devil just now. Needless to say he didn't see anything."

"What about Peter Baxter? He's still at Mercy Hospital, or has he disappeared as well?"

"Why? No, not that we've heard of," Harrington paused. "So you still think there is a connection?"

"Yes, I still think so. In fact, I'm convinced that it all ties into the same affair."

"You wouldn't happen to know what sort of affair that is, Mr Temple?" Harrington asked, a tinge of exasperation showing in his voice. Unlike Sir Graham Forbes and the Scotland Yard men, Harrington hadn't any experience with Temple's particular brand of investigation and the fact that the novelist didn't like to share his theories until he'd completely solved a mystery to his satisfaction.

"I have some suspicions, yes, but it's too early to say for certain." Then he added: "I know it's all connected, but I don't know yet by what."

"Well, I hope you plan on letting us know at some point, because if there is any sense behind this business, I sure can't make it out," Harrington replied somewhat gruffly.

After promising that he'd keep Temple apprised of any developments, the NYPD detective rang off.

Paul sank down in the chair near the phone, still reeling from the shock. He hadn't seen this coming, not in the least. He'd guessed that someone might try to get to Steve yes, but what about the disappearance of Beverly Kingston. And why kidnap the women, why not just kill them right then and there?

Paul thought back to the morning all this had first started. Steve had been reading a story in the newspaper about Beverly Kingston. It seemed like a lifetime ago, but in reality less than week had passed. What was it that the newspaper article had been about? Paul tried to remember. Yes, it had been about the fortune of the late Mr Kingston. Maybe there was a motive to be found there. He hadn't considered it so far, but maybe this was about Kingston's money. In Paul's experience, kidnappings served one of two functions, either to extract money, or to blackmail somebody into doing something. The former might conceivably apply to Mrs Kingston, if she did inherit, then she would be a very wealthy woman indeed. The Temples weren't nearly in the same league financially. Blackmail on the other hand might be the object in taking Steve to force his hand in some way. But who was there to blackmail in the case of Mrs Kingston? Her husband was dead. Who else was there? None of it made any sense.

oOo

Louise, though she usually regarded herself as quite fearless, couldn't deny the fact that right now, she was more than a little scared and quite confused as well. She had found herself in a medium-sized bedroom, clearly not a hospital ward, with no memory of how she had gotten there. She did remember the night's events at the hospital, but between the chloroform infused cloth being pressed against her face and waking up in this place, her memory was an absolute blank. Clearly some time has passed, because although the curtains on the window opposite the bed were drawn, light was filtering in through the fabric. There wasn't much else she could tell about her current situation merely from the room - it was simply, yet tastefully furnished, but there was a certain generic quality about it that made it difficult to deduce much about her location or who the owners of the house might be. If she had to guess, she would have said it looked like the guestroom of a country house. But that wasn't the real mystery as far as she was concerned. What puzzled her the most was why anyone should go to the trouble of kidnapping her. She had no enemies of her own, not as far as she knew at least, unless one counted the man whom her brother had been chasing and who had already killed a police officer. With her brother dead however, what would be the point of abducting her, she wondered and for the first time, she realized that she knew hardly anything about the shooting that had landed her in hospital in the first place. She had been too distracted by her injury and the revelation that she had lost five years of her life to even ask who had shot her. There was so much she didn't know and it frightened her more than she had ever been frightened before.

Giving into fear and confusion wasn't going to solve anything, she told herself as she tried to pull herself together and analyze the situation as rationally and calmly as possible, a task hindered by the headache that was building slowly but surely between her temples.

At that moment, the there was a knock on the door. Louise froze, uncertain of what to do. Before she could make up her mind however, the door was opened and in walked a matronly woman in her fifties, her gray hair pulled into a tight bun from which a few strands had escaped. She was carrying a small black tray on which stood a glass carafe filled with a clear liquid, a small vial filled with white powder and an empty glass.

She appeared startled when she spotted Louise looking at her.

"Oh, excuse me, Miss Harvey. I had no idea you were awake. I shall inform Mrs Kingston." She deposited the tray on the bedside table.

"Mrs Beverly Kingston?" Louise questioned.

"Yes, I believe she is an old friend of yours, ma'am."

Louise nodded, still perplexed by the situation. Beverly Lloyd was one person she had not expected to see again. From the looks of it she had married Patrick.

She remembered the two well, but according to what she had been told, five years had passed, she had since married and come to America. It seemed like the three of them had stayed close over the years. But that didn't answer the question of why she'd been kidnapped from the hospital and she was now doing with Beverly.

Her frantic thoughts were interrupted when the door opened again and Beverly entered. She looked older than Louise remembered her, but the her smile was still much the same. Louise couldn't help but smile back.

"Beverly..." she began, not sure what question to ask first.

Beverly came over and enveloped her in a hug. "Oh, Louise, I'm so glad you're all right. I can't tell you how worried we've been about you."

"What happened?" Louise finally managed when Beverly released her.

"It's a long story," Beverly said. "The important thing is that you're safe here."

"Save from whom?" Louise questioned, getting more confused by the minute.

"Oh dear, so you really don't remember?" Beverly seemed genuinely shocked.

"Well, I do remember you and Patrick, but nothing at all about the last five years."

"That's terrible! I can't imagine how frightened I would be in your place," Beverly exclaimed.

"To be honest, I'm pretty scared myself," Louise admitted to her friend. "What happened to the man who kidnapped me? From the hospital I mean." Unconsciously, her hand went up to where the knife had cut her neck.

"That was William, he's good friend. We had to get you out of there quickly and it was the only way we could do it. I'm so sorry if we frightened you unduly."

Louise took a few moments to process the information. "What about my husband? Is he here as well?"

"No, no, he's not. You're quite safe here. Nobody but Patrick, William and I know that you're here. And of course Elizabeth, our cook and maid whom you have already met. But she can be trusted, so there is no need for you to worry at all."

"I don't understand," Louise protested. This was all going a little bit too fast for her liking.

Beverly sat down on the edge of the bed, looking at Louise earnestly. "I suppose I better start from the beginning," she said. "Patrick and I have lived here in America for about three and a half years now. We hadn't heard from you in a while when suddenly you telephoned out of the blue, saying that you were here in New York City and that you needed to talk to me. You sounded terribly upset and we met that same afternoon. It was then that you told me what had happened to your brother and about the man he was chasing. You told me that you had come to America on the track of an agent of the Knave of Diamonds, hoping to find out from him where the Knave had disappeared to after your brother's murder. You were planning to meet that agent that very night. I tried to talk you out of it, but you were determined to go. The next day, I learned that you'd been found shot the previous night. I immediately knew it had to have something to do with your appointment. I tried to come and see you at the hospital, but they would only let family members see you. It was there that I ran into your so-called husband, a man calling himself Mr Paul Temple. You had never mentioned to me that you were married and the way you had described the Knave's agent, I just know it had to be him, so Patrick and I decided to get you out of there, before anything else could happen to you," Beverly finished, reaching for Louise's hand, gently squeezing it.

Louise was speechless. For the second time in as many days, her world had been turned upside down. She had started to get acquainted with the notion of being married and her husband had seemed like a good man who was genuinely concerned about her. Was it possible that it had all been a charade, put in for her benefit?

"I know it must be a great shock for you to hear this, but please you must believe me Louise that I only acted for your protection," Beverly said softly.

Louise nodded. In a way, it all felt so unreal, more like something out of a novel instead of something that could really happen. Happen to her of all people. For the first time, she truly understood the depth of her brother's fears and the ruthlessness and cleverness of the Knave, his enemy. She shivered in spite of herself.

"Are you all right?" Beverly's question brought Louise back to the present.

"I'm not sure," she replied truthfully. "My head hurts something fierce, to be honest." Louise found t hard to admit weakness. It was something she wasn't used to doing, even in front of her best friend.

"I understand, my dear," Beverly replied. "Patrick and I have hired a nurse to look after you, until you get back on your feet. She should arrived later today. In the meantime, I got you some medicine for your head." Beverly indicated the tray the maid had brought in earlier. She put some of the powder from the vial into the glass and filled it up with liquid from the carafe.

"Here, drink this." She handed the glass to Louise.

oOo

"How is she?" Patrick Kingston asked over then rim if the newspaper he was reading.

"I told you not to bring that kind of thing here!" Beverly snatched the newspaper from her husband. "What if she sees it?" she questioned angrily.

"Then I guess you'll have to make sure she doesn't see it," Patrick replied, seemingly undisturbed by Beverly's outburst. "If you ask me, it was a damn foolish idea to bring her here in the first place."

"I suppose you would have killed her straight away?" Beverly's voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"Yes, and if we had, we'd be in the clear right now, and on our way to South America." Patrick said, completely unruffled.

"Whether you like it or not, she's a friend."

"You forget that she's also a friend who knows far too much about our operation and who could very easily land us both in jail or worse, especially now that she's married to Paul Temple." Patrick lit a cigarette and puffed out a blue-gray cloud of smoke. "We can't keep her here forever, you do know that," he remarked after a while.

"I'll think of something," Beverly replied tersely. A worried frown had appeared on her face.

TBC