Accuse the Toff (22 page)

As he spoke the Toff opened the door of the car, held up by a police van in front of it and almost stationary. He nodded but his expression was bleak enough to startle Grice as he stepped from the car, swayed to regain his balance then turned and walked swiftly towards Parliament Street as the car moved forward.

 

 

Rollison hurried up the stairs to his flat, making little noise and taking his key from his pocket as he went. He did not exclude the possibility of being attacked but as his key turned in the lock he heard Jolly's voice from the reception lounge: I won't be a moment, sir.'

Jolly's footsteps followed and thereupon there was the sound of the bolt being drawn. Jolly opened the door and stepped aside for the Toff to enter, closing the door again but this time not bolting it.

‘I thought it wise to take every precaution, sir.'

‘You're always wise,' said the Toff and meant it. ‘In fear of assault, Jolly, or just nerves?'

‘The circumstances indicated extreme caution,' replied Jolly. Like the Toff's his eyes were red-rimmed, ample evidence that he had not slept a great deal the previous night. ‘I cannot be sure that I was not followed from The Bargee, sir, while the policeman you sent to inquire about me mentioned my name in the saloon and it may have been associated with you. I haven't been back very long,' added Jolly apologetically, ‘but I've just made some tea—would you like a cup?'

‘Many cups, yes. I'll be ready in three minutes.'

It was obvious that Jolly had news he considered to be important but Rollison felt in need of a refresher before learning what it was. He went into the bathroom and washed his hands and face in tepid water and, while drying himself, walked into the lounge where Jolly was depositing a tea tray and some cold toast on a small table – not bought from Harridges.

‘Good,' said Rollison and took a cup. ‘Very good, Jolly. Now don't sit on it any longer. What happened?'

Jolly said slowly: ‘I
think
Ibbetson and two of his accomplices are at The Bargee, sir. I waited until a little before closing time and then I—er—I forced entry.' Jolly sipped his tea and went on in a quick, almost excited voice for him. ‘It wasn't very difficult and I managed to look in most of the rooms before I was heard. Then I heard someone say “Gibby”.'

‘Ibbetson's nickname, yes,' said the Toff sharply, his tea momentarily forgotten.

‘Then there was an oath and another man – probably Ibbetson, I thought – distinctly said: “That's Peveril, the swine.” I did not stay much longer,' admitted Jolly, ‘but I was there long enough to understand that they were afraid of Peveril and at the same time prepared to murder him if the opportunity arose. At all events, sir, I managed to get outside and from a nearby house watched the others looking for me. Five men left the inn – it would be about half-past twelve when that happened – and after about twenty minutes the first returned and the others followed. I can't be sure that they were the same men but I heard “Gibby” mentioned again and presume that Ibbetson was with them.'

‘What then?'

‘I waited nearby and watched the inn, sir,' said Jolly, ‘after telephoning Sammy Diver and asking him if he could send a couple of men to help me. He promised that he would and they arrived soon after four o'clock. I waited a little longer and then returned here in the hope that you would be back. I told the men that they were to telephone here if anyone left The Bargee and that one of them was to follow. I did wonder afterwards whether I would have been wise to ask Diver for more than two men.'

‘Two should do,' said the Toff. ‘Ibbetson won't leave that hidey-hole unless he's forced out. The trouble is that Peveril's men might find a way of getting in.' He finished his tea and poured out a second cup, crunching a piece of toast as he did so, told Jolly the essentials of his story and added: ‘You learned nothing else?'

‘Nothing, sir. But a few minutes ago a man telephoned. I liked neither his voice nor his manner but he said that Ibbetson would be leaving The Bargee at ten o'clock this morning!'

‘Did he, by Jove,' said the Toff slowly. ‘We'll ponder over that. Now you've done better than I hoped,' he said warmly, ‘and we should be able to make it. Jolly, we'll see this thing through ourselves; it isn't safe to leave it to others.'

‘Meaning the police.' murmured Jolly.

‘I'm not in favour with the police just now. Peveril has convinced them that I've been working for Paterson and June for some time. Grice thinks that I've taken a quixotic interest in the couple and that I'm backing their innocence against all reason. Very carefully Peveril has convinced Grice that for once I'm a danger to a successful police action, rather than a help to them achieving it, and Peveril has a considerable degree of low cunning. Why hasn't he been to The Bargee? He certainly knows about it.'

‘Did you tell me that he was under arrest, sir?' asked Jolly discreetly.

‘There are others working with Peveril, he's not on his own. And what they will want to do is to offer further “proof” that I've been in it all the time and thus strengthen their contention that I've been helping Paterson and June for longer than I've pretended. Also, they will almost certainly prefer me to get into a jam, Jolly. For instance, they will expect me to go to The Bargee, to see Ibbetson. They telephoned a message for me, didn't they? On my arrival they'll break in or follow me in. Violence is likely and, if their plans don't go awry, Ibbetson and the other witnesses will be silenced. And—
and
,'
continued the Toff very tensely, ‘they will shape the evidence to make it look as if I did the silencing.'

‘Are you serious?' ejaculated Jolly.

‘Of course I'm serious,' said the Toff sharply. ‘From the time that I saw young Jameson I've been the Aunt Sally. All the evidence and most of the actions have been turned against me: the major effort of the other side has been to switch police attention to me. It's been done well. Grice is more than half-convinced. Our question is: who has worked with Peveril and who conceived the idea in the first place?'

‘Have you any idea, sir?' asked Jolly faintly.

‘A glimmering,' admitted the Toff. ‘No more than a glimmering and, if it grows into a bright light, we'll have deserved most of what's happened for being too free with our sympathy. Or I will,' he amended hastily. ‘Now, if I'm right—and please God I am!' he exclaimed with unaccustomed fervour – ‘the flat is being watched. I shall be followed. You'll follow my follower. And I think—'

He paused, then stepped across to the telephone and dialled a number in Aldgate. In a few moments he was talking to a Mr Samuel Diver, who kept a large and prosperous public house near Aldgate High Street and who was indebted to the Toff for several particular favours. Amongst Sammy Diver's various activities there was the running of a gymnasium in the Mile End Road, a chopping-block for ambitious boxers, a rendezvous for the hundreds who had battled in the ring and passed their heyday. The Toff, in peace time, had been a regular patron of the gymnasium and knew most of the members of Sammy's club. Jolly, knowing that, had called upon the man for help and the Toff obviously considered the idea worth imitating, for he asked Sammy for another four or five men who were to go to The Bargee and to wait nearby.

Sammy promised gladly that he would arrange that at once.

The Toff replaced the receiver, lit a cigarette and then nodded slowly. Although he looked as tired as he felt, there was a gleam in his eyes and a sense of satisfaction within him which rendered him oblivious to the chance of being proved wrong. He would have denied emphatically that he was working a hunch: that he had been framed carefully and cleverly from the beginning – his beginning – of the affair was obvious and he considered the last act in the framing a natural consequence of the earlier ones.

‘Are you ready to start, sir?' asked Jolly.

‘I've had some second thoughts,' the Toff told him. ‘You and I will go together. We'll both be followed and our man or men will think that it's working out very nicely. And why shouldn't it?' he added for no reason at all. ‘We'll go slowly to The Bargee, getting there after Sammy's reinforcements have arrived. Our follower probably won't think of reinforcements in the form of Sammy's men, he'll be on the lookout for police, not bruisers.' He thrust his hands into his pockets, hesitated and then stepped to the window. He saw nothing to interest him in the Terrace and turned to say quietly: ‘If you wanted to murder three or four men, all of whom could provide evidence against you, what would you do? Assuming,' he added, ‘that the men were likely to come out of a house or a shop or even a pub together.'

Jolly considered for a while, and then said: ‘I don't quite follow you, sir.'

‘Don't you?' asked Rollison softly. ‘Think again, Jolly. Think back to the newspaper stories we read about the Chiswick murder, and … I see you've got it,' he added softly. ‘I see you've got it.'

Jolly eyed him for a moment in amazement and then with a dawning apprehension. They were silent for a while, before Jolly said as softly as the Toff: ‘You think they'll try the madman-with-a-gun trick again, sir?' ‘It certainly wouldn't surprise me,' declared the Toff. ‘Come on, let's get over there.'

They left the flat a few minutes afterwards and walked to Piccadilly, going down to the Underground station. As they walked they were careful not to look behind them or to give the slightest impression that they suspected that they were followed; but they were followed by a man in the uniform of a Commando with the three stripes of a sergeant on his sleeves.

 

The Toff and Jolly reached The Bargee at five minutes to ten. The public house was on the corner of two narrow roads, a dingy little place with boarded windows and a dilapidated sign hanging outside. A frowsy woman was swilling the pavement outside the pub with dirty water. Rollison and Jolly passed on the other side of the street, walking casually but seeing three of Diver's men within easy distance.

Rollison ignored them, whispering to Jolly: ‘Wait here for a moment.'

He went on, turning a corner and seeing a fourth of Sammy's men waiting near it, apparently interested in the window of a confectioner's shop. Rollison spoke before he reached the man, to receive a shake of the head which suggested that nothing of interest had happened. Rollison continued to speak, not raising his voice but uttering the words loudly enough for the other to understand.

‘Tell the others to watch for a car, which will probably pull up opposite the pub, and stop anyone who goes towards it.'

‘Oke,' came a gruff response.

‘Thanks,' said Rollison and then turned and sauntered back, glancing at his watch as he turned the corner and seeing that it was three minutes to ten. The need for keeping away from the front door of The Bargee was obvious but the temptation to go there was strong. He saw Jolly strolling along the road thirty or forty feet away while the minute hand of his watch crept round and he saw that only one minute remained. The possibility that the message had been telephoned to get him there while action was staged elsewhere made him uneasy but then he heard the sound of a car engine approaching from a nearby road and unfastened the flap of his holster, taking a grip on his revolver.

The car turned the corner. It was an open one and he did not recognise the man at the wheel. But he did recognise the man in khaki with a
Commando
tag on his shoulder who suddenly appeared in the porch of a house alongside the hotel.

As the man appeared the hotel doorway opened and a man glanced quickly up and down the street. Rollison, the Commando and Jolly were all hidden from his sight. The man peered at the car, which was driven past at a fair speed, then backed into the pub. A moment later he reappeared with two companions. Despite greasepaint and dirt smeared over the face of one of them, Rollison recognised Ibbetson. He imagined that one of the others was “Mike.”

Rollison stepped into sight and started to go across the road. The Commando advanced suddenly and in his hands there was a small machine-gun of the type used by the British shock troops. He levelled it as Rollison neared the party coming from the hotel and while Ibbetson, seeing the Toff, turned and began to run.

Quite calmly, Jolly fired his automatic at the Commando.

The single shot from his gun echoed sharp and clear in the crisp morning air. The Commando gasped and half-turned; there was blood on his right hand and the automatic machine-gun drooped towards the ground. He made a quick, desperate effort to regain it but Jolly fired again.

Ibbetson and the others were running full pelt towards the nearest corner. The man at the wheel of the small car was in the middle of turning in the road. He glanced over his shoulder and his expression held horror and dismay. Rollison divined his intention of getting away while the chance remained and fired towards the car; his second bullet punctured a rear tyre which exploded with a loud report. The car slewed across the road then crashed into the kerb and against the brick wall of a small house. As it crashed, Ibbetson and the others reached the corner and then ran into the arms of Sammy's men, taken so much by surprise that they did not even put up a fight. Had they done, two more of Sammy's men, hurrying towards the scene, would have stopped them.

The Toff and Jolly turned towards the wounded Commando, whose gun was on the ground and who was leaning against the wall of the house where he had taken shelter, his face twisted in pain. Everything had happened so swiftly and been carried out with such assurance that Jolly's mild question was an anti climax.

‘Do you know him, sir?'

‘Oh, yes,' said the Toff. ‘I told you that my sympathies had been working too freely. That's young Jameson but his second attempt wasn't as successful as his first. I think we'd better ‘phone Grice now or he'll lose patience.'