Here Comes the Toff (17 page)

Wrightson scowled.

“Not a chance.”

“Somehow,” said the Toff, “I can't associate Irma with the marry-then-murder idea. It has too many pitfalls, and it's not her idea of a game. After her own fashion, she's quite sporting.”

“The Curtis woman—sporting!”

“Call her Cardew,” said the Toff, with his lazy smile. “Yes, up to a point. I suppose, Wrightson, there's no possibility that the company's a rig-up, and that Renway knows it?”

Wrightson coloured.

“My uncle's honest if he's nothing else.”

“Which is something,” said the Toff.

Wrightson muttered uneasily, but the Toff left the subject and did not return to it. Wrightson had had more than enough, and the Toff persuaded him to go to bed.

When he had gone, the Toff sat back in his arm-chair, with his feet on the mantelpiece and looked at the clock. It wanted twenty minutes to twelve, and he was feeling impatient, half wishing he had made no bargain.

Jolly was back, with nothing to report.

Wrightson's confirmation that the new company was to be put on the market in a couple of days was the only information that seemed likely to offer results. Its shares would probably be well subscribed, and there was bound to be a great deal of money changing hands. That was what puzzled the Toff. It would merely go from one bank to another; there was no hard cash to handle, and no bullion.

Midnight struck.

At five minutes past the hour, he was ringing the bell at the St. John's Wood house. Late though it was, a footman opened the door, and in a few seconds Rollison was in the library, shaking hands with Renway.

Renway looked his surprise.

“My dear Rollison, an unexpected pleasure. What can I do for you so late at night?”

Rollison said: “I don't know that I've a pleasant job, but it's got to be done. About your nephew, Mr. Renway.”

Renway's expression darkened.

“I'm not interested in my nephew.”

“I think you will be.”

“If you have come as a messenger from him …”

“I haven't,” said the Toff. “I've come to tell you he didn't elope, Renway. He was struck over the head and kidnapped. So was Miss Bailey.”

Renway half rose from his chair.

“James kidnapped! It's absurd!”

“But very true,” said the Toff.

Renway stamped across the room, his hands clenched, his eyes glaring, his usually pallid face red with rage.

“It's outrageous! Prove it, Rollison, tell me what .you have to do with it, tell me who …”

“Steady,” said the Toff. “He's safe and well, I can tell you that.”

“Are you sure?”

“You can take my word for it.”

“Then who arranged it?”

“You know the woman as Curtis, but her real name is Cardew. Obviously, she made it look like an elopement to prevent police inquiries. These are
facts
, Renway.”

Paul Renway stared at him without speaking. His earlier sprightliness had dropped away, and it would have been easy to feel sorry for the man. The Toff would have done so, in some circumstances, but at the moment he was too full of his own thoughts.

“I—I can't believe this,” Renway said hoarsely. “Irma, of all people. You'll have to offer me convincing proof, Rollison.
Very
convincing proof.”

“I can. But first, Renway—how long had you known her before you realised she was Irma Cardew? Did you know it at first, or did you learn afterwards?”

Renway stiffened.

“Rollison, what are you suggesting?”

“That you haven't been so deceived as you would like to make out,” said Rollison quietly. “Are you working with them, or entirely on your own? I fancy,” added the Toff, “that you're on your own, and that you're making very pretty fools out of Irma and Kohn.”

He stopped, for Renway's eyes showed naked hatred and the Toff knew he had found the truth.

Renway
was in the new company ramp.
Renway
was not being fooled.

 

 

Renway had one arm uplifted, and he took half a step forward. Then he staggered, and put his arm down to support himself against the table. His face, particularly at the lips and nose, had a bluish tinge.

“How—how did you learn?”

“The so-called elopement told me a great deal,” said the Toff. “It was obvious, after I had made a few inquiries, that you would know there had been no elopement, yet you affected to believe the story. From then on, it was open and shut. Irma and Kohn had been using you as a dupe, as they thought, while you had them fooled.”

Renway's lips worked.

“Rollison—Rollison, listen to me! I've been doing very badly. I'm insolvent. If I don't get through with this, I'll be broken. It will make hundres of thousands, and Irma and Kohn can take the blame. They don't know that I've been waiting for them, waiting for the money to come in, for the credits to be transferred to their accounts – accounts
I
can control. Before they put their hands on a penny I'll warn the police what they're going. It's a ramp, but they'll be blamed, no one will suspect me. I'll take you in as partner, Rollison! Keep your theories to yourself, that's all you have to do.”

Rollison was silent for a moment.

He had realised that Renway was in it from the moment he had been sure of the kidnapping; but that Renway had been foxing so cleverly, planning to double-cross Irma and Kohn, had an irony that took his breath away.

Kohn was
not
so clever.

Nor was Irma.

“Well?” Renway snapped, “Will you do it?”

“Why did you let your nephew disappear and make no fuss?” asked the Toff.

“I thought he might guess something, and he was better out of the way for a while. The fool Kohn thought of it, of course; he didn't tell me, but I knew. He probably wanted to know what you'd been talking to Jim about. Rollison, it's absolutely foolproof, I tell you. Martin and Sidey worked for Kohn, and I can prove it. They're both in this; it looks as if Kohn planted them on me. I've even let them cash forged cheques to make the case against them all foolproof. It can't fail, Rollison, if you'll keep quiet.”

“Can't it?” came a voice from the door.

It was then that the Toff was outplayed, that he knew he had lost himself too deeply in Renway's story to take heed of other possible threats. He half-turned, to see Irma in the doorway, still muffled in furs and still smiling – but not pleasantly. In her gloved hand was an automatic, while Kohn, standing just behind her, carried another.

Renway licked his lips, and seemed to shrink into himself.

Rollison kept his hands in sight; to go for his gun then would be to invite murder.

“Can't it fail?” asked Irma again, and she spoke very softly. “You've been clever, Paul, much cleverer than I thought; but it can fail all right.”

Kohn pushed past her.

It was a foolish thing to do, and for a split second Rollison considered going for his gun. He decided against it; while Kohn reached Renway and hit him. It was a blow of the kind he had delivered against Phyllis Bailey, on a par with the kicking of Ritzy. It showed that his temper was ungovernable, and that just then he was in the white heat of rage; his eyes were glaring and red-rimmed, as if he had no self-control.

Renway fell across the desk.

“No, don't, don't …”

“I'll break your bloody neck,” snarled Kohn. “You'd put this across me, would you? I …”

He raised his clenched fist again, but Irma's cold voice cut across his words, making him hesitate.

“Don't be a fool all the time, Leo; that won't do any good. We're through, and we've got to get our hands on what money we can. Get his keys.”

“A nice thought,” said the Toff, and his voice was amiable. “I wish I could think you were just being kind-hearted, Irma.”

“That's enough from you,” said Irma. “You didn't lose much time working.”

“I started on the stroke of twelve,” said the Toff, and he selected a cigarette from the table. Kohn was going through Renway's pockets for his keys. He found them, and stepped to the safe behind the desk. As he opened the safe, the Toff struck a match to light his cigarette. Irma watched him closely, knowing that what danger there was would come from Rollison, and wondering whether she would get away in time.

Kohn was taking bundles of notes out of the safe.

The Toff saw them, and knew that Renway had been preparing against the failure of his coup, for there were several thousands of pounds there, all in small wads of banknotes. Kohn stuffed them into his pocket, and turned to Irma.

“That's the lot.”

“Yes,” said Irma, and she laughed. “Renway, you poor fool, you're going out.”

She fired towards the man.

Renway reared up, and then slumped down. The bullet went well above his head, and the Toff thought that she had intended to fire high; but he doubted whether a bullet through the heart would have been of more effect, for there was an ominous rattle in the old man's throat. He himself was stiff with tension, for he expected the next bullet to come his way.

“Going out of black?” he asked, and there was a challenge in his voice.

“Yes,” said Irma. “But for some reason I don't want to kill you, Rollison. You've played by the rules, and …”

Kohn snapped: “Put him out, now!”

“Leo, this is my game. I …”

Kohn swore, and fired from his pocket. He sent Irma's gun flying from her hand, and he swung round on the Toff, beside him. A split second more, and the Toff could have won; but as it was he saw only murder in Kohn's hands.

And then:

Crack
!

The first shot had been barely audible, for Kohn's gun was fitted with a silencer. The second was loud and clear, and did not come from Kohn. It came from the door, and the bullet hit Kohn in the chest. A second followed, and a hole leapt into his temple. He lurched forward, dead before he touched the ground, while in the doorway stood Ritzy Martin. Ritzy's lips were twisted; a heavy revolver was smoking in his hand.

“That's one of you,” he sneered. “Now you, Irma …”

And then the Toff fired.

Ritzy reared up, a strained surprised expression on his handsome face. His gun dropped, and did not fire again. For a few seconds it was like a tableau, with Irma standing and nursing one wrist, Kohn and Renway dead on the floor, and Ritzy Martin dying. He tried to speak, but he failed, his big body slumping heavily.

The Toff's eyes met Irma's.

They were silent for a moment, with her entirely at his mercy. And then he said, in a voice which she hardly recognised: “Make it, my pet. Don't waste any time in getting out of London. I'm sending for McNab at once. He'll pull in Wray and Benson, and you'll be lucky to get out of England before they've talked.”

Irma said: “Thanks, Rollison. Is there anything you want to know?”

“Did Minnie know about the job?”

“Yes; Kohn paid her five hundred to keep silent.”

“Was Wrightson involved?”

“No.”

“Why
was
he kidnapped?”

“Because he would make a nuisance of himself after his girl had gone. Kohn wanted her, to find out what you'd said to Wrightson.”

“Involved,” said Rollison. “Kohn seemed so simple, too, but he made too many mistakes. All right, Irma. But remember, there's no next time. Not this way.”

“I'll remember,” she said.

She half-turned, as the Toff called: “What money have you got?”

“A few hundred pound, but not with me.”

“Take some from Kohn; no one will miss it.”

There was a twisted smile on her lips as she took two of the bundles that Kohn had taken from the safe. She looked at Rollison once, and then quickly away.

He waited until she had left the room before he stepped to the telephone. While he was asking for McNab, a scared voice came from the door. A footman was standing there, holding a poker.

“Is—is anything the matter?”

“Sleeping sickness,” said the Toff abruptly. “Get upstairs and stay there.”

The man disappeared, while the Toff lit a cigarette and then stepped to Renway. The man was dead, as were the others.

The affair was over, and to him it seemed that this was the best way. The Sideys had been avenged; only Charlie Wray was free, and he would not be so for long. Irma had a sporting chance of a getaway, and he felt that she had earned it.

He did not tell McNab that, and he kept Irma's name out of things until the early hours of the morning, after McNab had taken the rest of his story, interviewed Benson, and arrested Charlie Wray.

McNab was on top of the world, for he had solved his case, and even had a victim for trial. The hard words which had been said of him by the Assistant Commissioner would be withdrawn, and McNab's honesty compelled him to admit that it was due only to the Toff.

“Why didn't you mention Irma Cardew earlier, Rollison?”

“I forgot,” said the Toff, very gently. “She was trying to marry Renway, so she would hardly have wanted him dead.”

McNab grunted, and composed further questions for Benson and Wray. Within an hour, the call was out for Irma, and the Toff marvelled at himself for hoping that she would get away in time. It transpired that she had caught a night tourist plane. The Toff did not think she would land in McNab's net, once in Paris.

He felt pleased with life.

So did Wrightson and his Phyllis, despite the scandal.

So did Anthea, when the Toff went along to see her, and gave her the outlines of the story. She was in bed again, for her visit to him had damaged her ankle more than had at first been thought, but she was not complaining.

At her bedside were the five books which Phyllis Bailey had written.

“I'm enjoying them,” said Anthea. “Have a chocolate?”

“Thanks,” said Rollison. He ate one reflectively, eyeing her with amusement. “You certainly take things as they come, my dear, and you don't realise that you played a bigger part in this than you wot of. I doubt whether I could have forced the issue without you.”

“Good,” said Anthea enthusiastically. “I was worried almost grey, Rolly, but since I've known it's over, I've decided that you have so much luck that you're not worth worrying about. Jamie may be a bit dull and staid, but I rather like a quiet life.”

“Go to it,” said the Toff.

He turned to leave her, but she held his hand, pulled him down towards her, and kissed him. It was a gentle kiss, and her eyes were gleaming as she let him go.

“That's a kind of kiss I can teach you, Rolly.”

“Learned from Jamie?” asked the Toff. “Be advised, my sweet, it's the best kind. Do you mind if I go?”

“Will you look me up from time to time?”

“I will, when you're safely married, and no longer a temptation.”

“I think”, said Anthea quietly and seriously, “that that's the nicest compliment I've had, Rolly. Goodbye, for now, and good luck. And be careful.”

“As always,” said the Toff.

He walked back to his flat thoughtfully, thinking a great deal about Anthea.

Long before he reached Gresham Terrace, however, his mind had turned to Irma. He wondered soberly where she was, if he had seen the last of her, and whether he would live to regret the fact that he had let her go. She had saved his life, and she had played according to the rules of their queer game.

In her own way.

The Toff shrugged, and let himself into his flat. It was pleasant not to have to take precautions as he went in, pleasant to see Jolly framed in the kitchen door, looking gloomy and eyeing a hob-nailed boot with some disfavour.

“May this be thrown away, sir?”

“It may not,” said Rollison firmly, and he glanced towards that wall which was covered with souvenirs. “Find a place of honour for it, Jolly, and dust it zealously every day.”

“As you say, sir,” said Jolly, resignedly.

“And another thing,” said the Toff. “You will recall a wager on the subject of Kohn—his cleverness as against his mistakes?”

“I do, sir.”

“Then remember that you owe me half a crown,” said the Toff.

“I beg leave to differ, sir,” said Jolly. “I placed the coin on your dressing-table just before you came in.”