The Toff In Town Page 8

  “Evidence?” said Rollison.

  “Oh, sure. Blane’s. Pauline’s. My own. You see, Mr. Rollison, anyone who works for me is prepared to swear anything I tell them to. And nothing is known against Blane or Pauline or me; we wouldn’t be bad witnesses. And what could you do? Produce the Aliens, maybe, to say they recognised Blane? No, sir, they wouldn’t do that. Allen wouldn’t dare, nor would his wife, even if Blane did cut some of her hair off. Maybe the police would believe your story, and maybe you’ve guessed the truth, or part of it, but—I know the law of this country, and I know what’s evidence. Up to now, there isn’t a thing that could be used against Pauline or me.”

  “Possibly not,” drawled Rollison. “That’s what I want to put right.”

  “But you can’t put it right,” declared Merino. “Because if you refuse to take that little holiday—well, I don’t like resorting to threats, but you wouldn’t be able to produce any kind of evidence, any place. A corpse can’t talk.”

  “Now you’re talking a familiar language,” said Rollison.

  “Maybe it’s language you understand, but I don’t particularly want to use it. You see, I don’t believe in violence except in certain cases——”

  “Such as Bob Allen,” interrupted Rollison.

  “I’m not here to discuss Allen,” said Merino. “Now, what about coming into the market for those diamonds? You can guess how much they’re worth. Nearly a hundred thousand pounds, and that’s a lot of money—you wouldn’t have to pay tax on it either, Mr. Rollison. Your holiday wouldn’t take much out of it, you can live in luxury for years. Now you’ve got to admit that’s a mighty generous offer.”

  “Yes,” said Rollison, “but I can live in luxury without it.”

  Merino sat back. His eyes were curiously light in colour and glinted with what might have been impatience or even the beginning of anger.

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” he said. “You can’t live at all if you don’t accept, Mr. Rollison. Maybe you think I’m bluffing. Well, just put this question to yourself. “I’ve come here to offer you those diamonds, which are worth a lot of money, and I wouldn’t try to buy you off if the rest weren’t worth a lot more. The stakes are very big. I can afford to make a gift like that and not notice it. But if you don’t accept and you happened to find a way of getting me in bad with the police, I’d lose it all. I am not going to lose it all.”

  “Aren’t you?” asked Rollison, softly.

  “No, sir! But I guess we’re getting too serious,” declared Merino, flashing a smile. “You’re not going to be fool enough to refuse! Let’s call it a deal, Mr. Rollison.”

  “No deal,” said Rollison.

  “Now, come!”

  “No deal,” repeated Rollison firmly.

  Merino sat for a long time, looking at him. The flat was silent; Merino didn’t move and Rollison did not avoid his challenging gaze. It seemed as if Merino were trying to outstare him, to force him into submission by the sheer strength of his personality. And it wasn’t easy to sit and watch him.

  The silence dragged on, but Rollison was determined not to break it

  Merino did.

  “You’re a very obstinate man,” he declared, “and I’m sorry about it, Mr. Rollison, but I couldn’t talk straighter than I have done. I’ve given you warnings and I’ve made a very generous offer. What I can’t give you is time. I’m in a hurry to concentrate on the main part of my business, and this isn’t it. You’ll go abroad. You won’t see the Aliens again. Or else——”

  “You’ll shoot me where I sit,” said Rollison dryly.

  “Maybe I could do that,” said Merino, “but first——”

  The telephone bell rang.

  Merino glanced at his watch, and it seemed to Rollison that he gave a sly grin of satisfaction. Rollison leaned forward and picked up the receiver. His voice was quite casual as he said:

  “Rollison speaking.”

  “Rollison, it’s Allen here.” He recognised Allen’s voice, even the note of desperation in it. “Rollison, my wife—where’s my wife?”

  “I don’t understand you,” said Rollison, very slowly.

  “Don’t talk like a fool! She was coming to see you, she ought to have been back an hour ago.”

  “She hasn’t been here.” Rollison looked at Merino, who smiled and stroked his beard. “How long has she been gone?”

  “Since two o’clock—just after your man called and told her to come. Rollison, if you——”

  Merino leaned forward and deliberately put his finger on the receiver rest, cutting Allen off. Rollison kept the receiver in his hand; Merino kept his finger in position.

  “You see, Rollison, I have several tricks,” he said, softly, “Mrs. Allen was persuaded to come to see you, but of course she didn’t arrive. She won’t arrive, she won’t return to her husband, she won’t turn up again anywhere unless—well, you might find her on the Riviera. Are you beginning to understand what I say?”

  CHAPTER TEN

  BLUFF CALLS BLUFF

  UNDOUBTEDLY Merino meant what he said. He sat back, com-pletely at ease. Between his beard and moustache his lips showed very red. His eyes were creased at the corners, as if he were really amused and confident that he would get his way. It was obvious that he was used to being obeyed; probable that he would find it difficult to get used to defiance. His confidence was as remarkable as the fact that he was prepared to offer an enormous bribe in order to set both the law and police at naught.

  He had expected that call from Allen; the timing had been perfect.

  Now, his expression seemed to say: “You haven’t any choice.”

  Rollison picked up the hangman’s rope and drew it through his fingers, and for the first time Merino’s eyes flickered towards it His smile disappeared, and he sat more upright in his chair.

  “Well, Mr. Rollison? What’s your decision?”

  “I think I’ll tell you a story,” said Rollison mildly. “There was once a very clever young man, an intellectual, a man who thought that he could defy Scotland Yard and all the police put together. And he did, for a long time. No one suspected him of crime, of murder— of a dozen-and-one offences against the law of the land and against ordinary human decency. I came to know him slightly. I had a great admiration for his cleverness, Merino—he wasn’t a fool, either. And I think he might have got away with murder and most of his crimes but—he fell in love with a girl. A nice girl. Not his type, not in his set and married. He didn’t worry about that. He always got what he wanted. He began to play on that girl’s nerves. He did so by working on her husband and framing him for crimes he hadn’t committed. He tormented and tortured both of them. He thought the time would come when he would get the girl, but—that was his mistake. This is the result——”

  He lifted the rope.

  Merino said: “You can’t frighten me.”

  “Oh, I didn’t frighten the man this rope hanged,” said Rollison, “but he was hanged. I often wonder whether he would have been, had he let that girl alone. I didn’t get him, nor did the police. We both helped, but the real thing that broke that man’s neck was a thing he hadn’t thought of. Love. Boy-loves-girl. Get a real case of that, and it’s stronger than anything else. Barbara Allen and her husband are a curious parallel.”

  “You may think that’s so,” said Merino, but there was a slight huskiness in his voice which hadn’t been there before. “I can do what I like with the Aliens.” He looked at the rope again, as Rollison kept drawing it between his fingers. “And I’ve told you the truth, Rollison, but you’ve lied. That rope didn’t hang anyone, it——”

  “Oh, it’s the same rope,” said Rollison. “How I got it won’t interest you, except—people said it was quite impossible to obtain!” He smiled. “I’ve many friends, inside and outside Scotland Yard. You may think you know something about me, that I’m supposed to be a free-lance who sticks his nose into crime and works independently of the police, but—I’ve seldom worked alone, although I
’ve sometimes worked without consulting the police.” He turned round suddenly and took a knife from the wall. It was of the stiletto type, with a handle of beautifully worked silver. He balanced it on his fingers as he went on:

  “There’s an instance. I took that out of a man’s heart, Merino. The victim had tried to get away with murder and worse, and he was hunted by people he’d victimised—and I helped those people. Not with the intention of letting them kill him, I wanted to see him hanged, but events got ahead of me. I couldn’t have helped by telling the police. I might have made the situation worse. There wasn’t any evidence of murder against the man—so the police didn’t come in until the body was found. I found it and sent for them; this was an exhibit at the inquest.” He tossed it up, and the blade glistened in the light.

  “A nice clean job. I don’t know where the killer is now, I couldn’t even have produced evidence that he was the killer, but I knew it all right. Queer things happen in this hunt of criminals, Merino, things such as you’ve never heard about

  They will again. And——” He stood up suddenly, and laughed.

  “My dear chap, you’re already half-crazy I You can’t buy licence to put men and women into hell. I’ve no evidence against you now, it wouldn’t help if I were to send for the police, although if it would, I’d tell ‘em and let the Aliens work out their own salvation. But—if anything happened to me, the police would know everything. And my friends wouldn’t hesitate to take revenge.”

  “You’ve got a clever tongue, but it won’t help you,” said Merino, after a pause. He stood up slowly. “I’m giving you another chance to take that vacation.”

  Their eyes burned at each other. Merino leaned forward, put the jewels back into the case, closed it and slid it into his pocket.

  “Don’t blame me,” he said.

  “I won’t blame anyone,” said Rollison. “No, don’t go for a moment.” He pressed a bell at the side of his desk.

  Merino stared

  Jolly did not come immediately.

  Rollison’s heart began to beat in a queer, spasmodic fashion. From the first he had seen the possibility that this man had brought others; that while they had been talking, Jolly had been attacked and overpowered. Merino might have more to his bluff than had appeared.

  And then the door opened.

  “You rang, sir?” said Jolly.

  “I rang,” said Rollison. “Bring in your camera, Jolly, will you?”

  “Yes, sir.” Jolly went out—but before he closed the door he mouthed a word, a short word, which Rollison did not understand. It might mean a warning—that Jolly had seen someone else outside. Rollison turned that over in his mind as Merino backed slowly towards the door.

  He said harshly:

  “What’s this about a camera?”

  “You’re going to have your photograph taken,” said Rollison.

  “To hell with that? I——”

  “You’re going to have your photograph taken,” Rollison insisted. He opened a drawer in his desk and took out an automatic. He glanced down at it, opened the magazine, and held it so that Merino could see inside. “Loaded, and don’t say I daren’t use it. Merino, if you were to get hurt through resisting, Jolly and I would concoct a story. That you came with menaces and tried to do me violence and got hurt in the process. That would be real evidence, as we’d both be eyewitnesses.” He laughed at Merino’s savage expression.

  “Not all the bluffs on one side. Ah—Jolly!”

  Jolly mouthed that word again but still Rollison did not get it He put it to the back of his mind as Jolly came forward with his camera and equipment The latter had only recently taken up this hobby seriously, although he had always done some photography for The Toff. He had perfected his camerawork—the flash-light and bowl were there—and he held it high.

  Merino bellowed: “Put that down!”

  He made a rush for Jolly, who skipped nimbly to one side.

  Rollison rounded the desk, Merino glanced at him, as if afraid that he would shoot, but when Rollison missed a chance, Merino shouted again and struck out at the camera and the bulb. He missed. Rollison reached him, poked the gun in his ribs and caught his right arm in a half-Nelson. Merino gasped with the sudden pain.

  The light flashed!

  Rollison released the big man and stepped aside.

  “Would you like one without the beard, sir?” asked Jolly politely.

  “Without——” roared Merino.

  “Not a bad idea,” said Rollison. Merino swung round on him, but this time the gun was pointed towards his chest. Rollison’s expression had altered completely; he looked grim and dangerous.

  Rollison said: “See if it’s real. The beard, not Merino.”

  “Very good, sir.” Jolly stepped forward swiftly and, before Merino could jerk his head away, took a hearty tug at the beard. Merino gasped. Jolly darted back, saying as he did so:

  “It appears to be real, sir.”

  “We could shave it off,” mused Rollison.

  Merino backed towards the wall. His red lips were parted and drawn back from his white teeth. He was rigid with rage and Rollison believed that whatever the danger, Merino would try to do violence if they approached him.

  “But, sir,” went on Jolly. “I believe the police are able to remove the beard in a photograph sir, and by a process of facial measurement, identify the man, even though, when apprehended, he has no beard. Of course if you would prefer me to get the razor——” He broke off, inquiringly.

  “Next time,” decided Rollison.

  There won’t be any next time,” breathed Merino, and all his swaggering bravado had gone. “I’ll have the pair of you fixed, I’ll—”

  “Now don’t make me change my mind,” advised Rollison. “Jolly’s a very good barber.”

  “You’ve had your chance, you’ll regret you’ve done this to me !”

  “Oh, vanity, where is your common sense?” sighed Rollison. “There’s always an advantage in playing against a man as swollen in conceit as you are, Merino. Get out.”

  Merino moistened his lips, then turned his back and went into the hall. Jolly went across the room, passed the man and opened the front door. Merino did not look at him, but as he stepped over the threshold, Rollison called:

  “Merino.”

  The big man stopped and looked round.

  “Don’t try any more rough stuff on the Aliens. And see that Mrs. Allen returns to her flat to-day. Otherwise

  Merino shot him a furious look, and went out of the flat Jolly quietly closed the door.

  Rollison looked out of the window and saw Merino get into the cream Chrysler. He was alone, and no one else was in sight. The Chrysler its engine making hardly any noise, disappeared round the corner.

  “I did wonder whether we should follow him,” Jolly remarked.

  “Let him sweat,” said Rollison. “Nicely done, Jolly. But now, confess and admit that you got quite a kick out of it—much more than if he’d been photographed at Scotland Yard.”

  “I did feel a slight exhilaration, sir,” conceded Jolly. “I was particularly glad that we thought of taking his photograph. Also he showed that he was opposed to having it taken, which suggests that he is now somewhat worried about the possible consequences. The quicker we get some prints of that picture the better, sir.”

  “While we’re about it, we’ll get a picture of Pauline Dexter. That’ll do Snub good, if nothing else.”

  “Talking of M. Higginbottom, sir, he has returned,” said Jolly. “I tried to convey that information to you. I am glad to say he came up the fire-escape. He said that he imagined it would be better to keep out of sight if anything were—er— on the go, as he put it. He is having a snack in the kitchen. I persuaded him not to show himself to our visitor.”

  “Happy thought,” said Rollison, and glanced at his watch. “By jingo, it’s five to five! Snub!”

  As he finished calling, the kitchen door opened and Higginbottom appeared, hastily swallowing a mout
hful of “snack”.

  He was a young man of medium height, well-built and lean, dressed in neatly pressed flannels and a brown sports-coat. His curly, light brown hair was untidy and his face split in a broad smile. His button of a nose could hardly have been snubbier, and his merry blue eyes surveyed Rollison as he said:

  “How I kept out of sight I just don’t know.”

  “It’s much better that you aren’t known to these people yet. Learn the story off by heart, with all the characters concerned, and then go out and hire yourself an opulent car. Try Gordon’s Garage.”

  “So I’m for the road,” said Snub.

  “You may be. Take it to Lilley Mews, near New Bond Street, and put it into the lock-up garage number 5.” Rollison tossed him a key. “Clean the window which looks out on to 7, Lilley Mews, where Merino and his lady-friend live. Have some trouble with the car and behave like an amateur mechanic— and make a careful note of all the visitors to number 7. It’s a two-in-one flat so we’re interested in everyone who goes in or out. Take the Leica, photographs might be useful. All clear?”

  “Aye, aye, sir!” Snub grinned, and then looked troubled. “The Aliens?”

  “I think they’ll pull through,” said Rollison. “I must fly.” He hurried into the hall and, taking his hat off a peg, said over his shoulder: “I hope you had a good holiday?”

  “All the sweeter for being the shorter,” said Snub. “You forgot to tell me whether to carry a gun.”

  “You can wield a useful spanner if it comes to the point. If Mr. Wardle rings, Jolly, tell him I’ll be along in ten minutes.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  And Rollison went out, jamming on his hat and hurrying to the top of the stairs.

  He tripped on a piece of string, fastened across them. He grabbed at the bannisters, saved himself from falling—and saw a small packet lying two or three stairs down. In a vivid moment he realized the possible danger—and he leapt over the packet, stumbled, reached the lower landing—and then a vivid flash and the roar of an explosion almost blinded and deafened him, and the blast pitched him forward on to his face.