The Toff on The Farm Read online

  She didn’t know whether she wanted him to go or not. She certainly did not want to be left alone with Lodwin, but beyond that, couldn’t really be sure what she did want.

  She said: “I should have to wait for my brother before making any decision, so why don’t you both come back this afternoon?”

  “Suits me, ma’am, suits me fine,” the Texan said.

  “I see no point in postponing the decision,” interposed Lodwin nastily. “Obviously what you really mean is that you want another bid. Very well. I have the contract of sale in my pocket. I have a thousand pounds in cash, and my cheque for fourteen thousand pounds will be met if you make special clearance arrangements before three o’clock this afternoon. You stand to take no risk at all, Miss Selby. Why don’t you stop being foolish, and sign ?”

  He actually took a large envelope out of his pocket. It was badly crumpled at one comer, and a little crumpled everywhere, but somehow had an imposing look. It must have been a very tight fit in his pocket. He unsealed it, and stepped to the table, then shook out the contents. Five-pound notes began to fall out, not in ones and twos, but in dozens. They showered upon the table in a little hillock of paper money. The last thing to fall was a folded sheet of paper.

  William T. Brandt seemed as fascinated by the cascade of notes as Gillian. When the paper stopped sliding and rustling, each stared as if hypnotised, while Lodwin looked triumphantly into Gillian’s face, his expression making it clear that he was certain that she could not hold out any further.

  He didn’t know the difficulty with Old Smith, Gillian thought.

  He couldn’t possibly know that the farmhouse was worth no more than five thousand, could he ?

  “Miss Selby,” remarked the Texan, “that’s a large sum of money, and I come from a State where they respect money and a good business-man. I guess you’re a good businesswoman. If you are, then you’ll be asking yourself right now why it is this fat creep is ready to pay you fifteen thousand pounds for property which isn’t worth a penny more than ten thousand? I guess there must be some good reason. If you take my advice you’ll try to find out what it is before you close any deal with him.”

  Lodwin now glared at the Texan.

  Gillian actually shivered.

  That was as much because of the expression in the dark-clad man’s eyes as anything. He looked as if he could kill; looked as if he was ready to kill just then. His right hand had moved towards the inside breast pocket of his coat. It stayed there. The Texan watched him steadily, and it was almost as if he was willing him not to thrust his hand further inside the jacket.

  The two men seemed to have forgotten Gillian.

  Ten minutes ago, they had fought that swift, bitter battle with their fists. Now it seemed as if they were fighting with their eyes and their minds, and that it could be just as deadly. She wished they were a thousand miles from here. That telephone voice intruded again, with everything that it implied. Gillian was completely confused, although she knew that the Texan was right: before she made any decision, she ought to know why these men thought that the farm was of such value.

  When she knew that, she might know why these men wanted it.

  Then the tension eased.

  “I’ll be seeing you,” the Texan said. “Goodbye for now, ma’am.” And then for no reason at all he added: “You bet.” He turned and strode to the door and a moment later went outside and he didn’t once look back. Gillian stared at the window as he passed; and this time she couldn’t see his hair, only the lower part of his face. She heard him striding away, footsteps sharp and clear; then they stopped, and a car door slammed.

  “Now perhaps you will be good enough to take the sensible course, and sign this contract of sale,” said Lodwin in a thin voice.

  He unfolded the document and handed it to her.

  The engine of the green M.G. started off.

  “And directly you have signed it, I’ll give you my cheque for the balance,” Lodwin went on.

  Gillian didn’t read the contract, but looked at him, and asked :

  “Why do you want the farm so badly?”

  “I want it for my principals who wish to buy not only this but other property in the neighbourhood,” said Lodwin, so brusquely that it was easy to believe that it was true. “They are aware, as no doubt that young American is aware, that the value of the land in this vicinity will rise sharply in the near future, because of certain road and town planning developments. You may have read of them in the newspapers. My principals know that these developments will in fact take place. They could have offered you the present market value price for your property and so swindled you. They preferred to give a good offer, so that there would be no recriminations in the future. That is the simple reason, Miss Selby. I will go further. There are others who would like to buy this property for the same reason. In short, my principals and others are competing for it. However, mine are far more dependable, and have much more capital. We will never allow ourselves to be out-bidden. I may tell you that I was authorised to go up to fifteen thousand pounds without further consultation with my principals, and I think it unlikely that they would be willing to go seriously higher. I think the price a generous one. Your brother is hardly Likely to object to such a sale, so——”

  He rustled the paper as he held it over the little mountain of notes, and at the same time took a fountain pen from his pocket. It was obvious that he did not seriously think that Gillian would refuse, as obviously he believed that the Texan had left because he knew that there was no hope for him.

  And Alan certainly wouldn’t complain.

  “Allow me to make one further commitment on behalf of my employers,” went on Lodwin. “If you receive a better offer than mine in the next forty-eight hours, we will match the offer, and add five hundred pounds to it. I will write that undertaking on the contract. Allow me.”

  He put the document on the table, and then began to write with a bold, flowing hand, using jet black ink from an old-fashioned fountain pen.

  He finished, signed the document with a flourish, and handed it to her. At that very moment, a car sounded at the end of this road, the third one in less than an hour. It might be Alan! Gillian pushed the document aside and stepped swiftly to the window. Lodwin followed her, document in hand.

  “Were you expecting another caller?” he demanded, sharply.

  “No, not yet,” she said, and watched a scarlet car streak along, its top showing above the hedge, the thin hedge itself looking as if it were shielding a river of blood. Then she remembered seeing a car exactly like that before. It came into sight, very fast, and for a moment looked as if it was bound to crash into the house. But it didn’t. It missed Lodwin’s car by an inch, the corner of the cottage by two inches, a rose bed by three inches and the small lawn by about an inch and a half. As it quivered to a standstill, the driving door opened and a tall man climbed out and uncoiled himself; he was startlingly handsome and youthful-looking.

  Gillian had seen this man, Rollison, only once before : when she had been to the hospital to see Monty.

  She saw Monty now, about to open his door.

  She found herself fascinated by Rollison, whom she knew better by his reputation and the soubriquet of the Toff. In a queer way, she felt anxiety lose its sharpness, as if this man was already shouldering troubles for her.

  Then she turned to look at Lodwin.

  He was not there.

  4

  DISAPPEARING TRICK

  There was Rollison, already half way towards the door, and waving to her. There was Monty, out of the car and hurrying as well as he could in the taller man’s wake. There were the two cars. But there was no sign of Lodwin, although only a second or two before he had been standing there with the document waiting for Gillian’s signature. The pile of money was still there. She went swiftly to the kitchen, but there was no sign of him. She heard the front door open, for she had not locked it, and then Rollison came in, stooping beneath the low lintel of the door, and
smiling at her as he greeted :

  “Sorry we’re late. Is he back?”

  “Is who——” she began, and then realised whom he meant, and felt appalled because in that very moment she had forgotten that Alan had disappeared. She saw the surprise on Rollison’s face at her question, and went on hastily : “No, he isn’t, but I hardly know whether I’m on my head or my heels, so much has happened.”

  “Leave it all to the Toff,” boomed M.M.M. from the doorway. Then he inquired, his voice becoming shrill: “What’s on? Has it been raining money?”

  Gillian said: “I know, I’m absurd, but—well, a man was with me just now, he left it.” She stared up at the ceiling, as if wondering whether Lodwin was upstairs. “Now he’s vanished.”

  “What man was this?” asked Rollison.

  “The Johnny of the car?” asked M.M.M.

  “Yes,” answered Gillian. “He—oh, it’s a fantastic story! I don’t know where to begin, except that—well, he was here. By the window. He wanted me to sign a deed of sale, and offered this as a deposit. Then he saw you, and vanished. I didn’t hear a sound,” she added, aware of M.M.M.’s puzzled glance, and the way Rollison was looking, as if he was trying to read her thoughts.

  Then they heard the whine of a self-starter.

  On the instant, Rollison swung round.

  Men had moved swiftly in this cottage today, but none so swiftly as he moved now. M.M.M. was just behind him, and tried hastily to get out of his way, but failed. They collided. M.M.M. fell back, Rollison lost his balance, and the engine of the car outside roared. Rollison regained his balance, and leaped towards the window, which was open a few inches. He flung it open wide and climbed through, before M.M.M. had picked himself up. The sound of the engine became much louder, and reached a high-powered whine as Rollison disappeared.

  “That man is greased lightning itself,” said M.M.M. ruefully. “Let me give you a piece of advice. Gill. Never get in his way. Wouldn’t surprise me if he’s caught the disappearing johnny up, and jumped over the top of the car by now.”

  Gillian didn’t speak.

  “Here, I say,” said M.M.M. “You look all in, you’d better take it easy.” He limped towards her, while she stared at the window, listening to the car and the sound of running footsteps.

  At that moment, Rollison knew that there was no hope of catching the other car. Before he could turn his own round and reach the main road, the first would be several miles away, and might take any one of four different roads. He watched as the car disappeared, listened as the engine faded, as if he hoped to remember the sound, and then bent down and examined the gravel path. There were several wet places where the gravel had worn away, and only dirt was left. Sharply defined in one of these was a tyre mark. He studied this as the girl came hurrying out of the cottage.

  In a moment, everything about him seemed to change.

  Except for her pallor, this girl was really lovely. One would have to travel a long way to see her equal, and obviously she did not realise just how lovely she was, or how gracefully she moved. The over-critical might have said that she was a little plump, but that was hardly true, and she had a wondrous small waist and a beauteous bosom. Behind her, limping very badly, was Montagu Montmorency Mome.

  “Hallo, Gillian,” Rollison greeted, as if they were lifelong friends, and to prove it, took her hands in his, drew her to him, and kissed her lightly on the lips. She was so astonished that she didn’t back away. He kissed her again, squeezed her, and went on with magnificent ease: “Now don’t worry a bit, we’ll find your brother. That’s if he doesn’t come back of his own accord,” he added cheerfully. “Is there any news at all ?”

  “It’s been ludicrous,” Gillian announced, and added with a catch in her breath : “And frightening, too. I’ve never been so scared, and never been so worried.”

  “No need to worry now,” declared M.M.M. “I’m here, and if that isn’t enough, the Toff has agreed to give the investigation priority. Beheve it or not, he clipped thirty-five minutes off my pre-amputation time for getting here from London, a hairsbreadth under fifty-nine minutes. I was quite sure that after the inevitable accident, I’d lose my other leg and a pair of arms.”

  It was obvious that he was being cheerful and bright for the sake of it. Rollison wasn’t sure that these were the right tactics now, for the girl looked quite as worried as she said she was. The essential thing was to get her to talk, and Rollison did not want to lose any time.

  “What’s made it so worrying?” he asked, and his hand was gripping her forearm firmly; encouragingly. “News of Alan?”

  “In a way.”

  “Bad?”

  “A man said,” Gillian began, paused as if she didn’t know how to continue, and then suddenly began to talk as if she would never be able to stop. The whole story poured out of her as they stood there in the sunlight and amid the silence, with M.M.M. leaning against the front door and Rollison looking into Gillian’s beautiful eyes, made radiant by her eagerness to make sure that he understood everything. He did; she even managed to make him understand what a temptation it had been to sign on the dotted line, and accept Lodwin’s offer.

  As the story progressed, M.M.M.’s smile faded, and he looked both bewildered and baffled. When she had finished he looked from her to Rollison and back again, as if quite speechless. When he did manage to speak, it was gustily.

  “You mean three different people want the farm?” His voice squeaked. “They must be crazy !”

  “Three people if the man who telephoned wants it,” agreed Gillian. “He didn’t actually say so, just said that I mustn’t tell anyone that Alan was missing until he’d been to see me. He ought to be here soon,” she added, and looked along the road.

  “He’ll come, sooner or later,” said Rollison, “but probably not if Monty and I are still here. He’ll watch the cottage and try to catch you on your own.”

  “Sixth-sighted Sammy says so,” said M.M.M., weakly. “What on earth do you make of all this, Roily ?”

  “I don’t know yet, but I’ve got round to wondering if Mr. Smith of the farm knows anything, and whether his knowledge explains why he doesn’t want to give up possession,” Rollison said thoughtfully. “The puzzling factor about the story you first told me was that old Smith should be so difficult to move. I wondered what his real motive was, and it’s beginning to look as if there is a good one,”

  “We’d better tackle him, pronto,” said M.M.M.

  “All in good time,” demurred Rollison. “We’ve a number of other things to do first. This man who ran away, Gillian —what did he say his name was?”

  “Lodwin.”

  “I don’t think I know anyone named Lodwin,” Rollison mused, and slid an arm round Gillian’s waist and led the way to the door. M.M.M. went ahead of them, now moving more uprightly, as if his leg hurt less. “Yet he must have run away because he was afraid of too many people seeing him. What was he like ?”

  They entered the front room,

  “Well, medium height, and rather pale, with sharp features, I suppose.” Gillian frowned. “It’s rather difficult to describe him, he was really rather neutral. He had pale grey eyes and I suppose they impressed me most, he looked as if he was so used to getting his own way that if I refused, he’d cheerfully kill me.”

  She shuddered.

  “He won’t,” declared M.M.M.

  “He won’t even have a chance,” said Rollison, and hoped that wouldn’t prove an empty boast. “Did he have any distinguishing mark—a mole, scar, moustache, anything like that?”

  “I can’t think of any.”

  “Kind of face that gets lost in a crowd,” put in IM.M.M. with obvious regret, “Dark clothes and a bowler could mean that he was really a solicitor, but would a solicitor behave like that?”

  “Shouldn’t think so,” said Rollison. “All we really know about him is his height, his taste in clothes, and the fact that his Austin car was a Black saloon and had new Everlast tyres.”

>   ‘‘What?” M.M.M. sounded incredulous.

  “They made a clear mark on the drive,” said Rollison offhandedly. “They’re not the most common tyres and would be easier to trace than most. Anyone with him, Gillian?”

  “No.”

  “What about this other chap, Tex the Texan?”

  “All I know is that I liked him, and that for some reason he suddenly decided to go off on his own. I didn’t understand it at the time, unless he knew that he hadn’t enough money to outbid Lodwin, and wanted to go and try to arrange to get more.”

  “Nice head on those pretty shoulders,” M.M.M. said. “What did I tell you? But don’t you go falling in love at first sight with a handsome young Yank. I’m leader in the field.” Gillian was almost tart.

  “Don’t talk nonsense about falling in love with a stranger.”

  “Sorry, pet.” She flared up.

  “You might show that you’re a little worried about Alan! No one has given a thought to him yet.”

  “Oh, yes, many thoughts,” Rollison assured her, “and among them the fact that the telephone threatener said that he would be here soon, and that he probably won’t come if he thinks you have company. Think you could bear to be left alone for a while ?”

  Gillian said dubiously : “If I have to be.”

  “Not the slightest reason why she should,” said M.M.M. “We could hide.”

  “If this chap is watching the cottage, he’ll know we’re here, and will wait until we go away before coming to tell Gillian what he wants,” reasoned Rollison, “and we want to know. We’ll leave, Monty, but we won’t go far. There’s a pub in the village. We’ll arrive as if for lunch, and go inside. Then I’ll nip out the back way, and cut across country to the cottage. It won’t take half an hour, and the chap probably won’t come until he feels sure that we’re safely tucking into our luncheon. All right, Gillian?”