Salute The Toff

Waikato Times, Volume 127, Issue 21158, 6 July 1940, Page 12 (Supplement)

Salute The Toff

_ SERI AL STORY

BY JOHN CREASEY

CHAPTER Vlll.—Continued. Charlie unfastened the box, and simply tipped the Toff’s cramped unconscious body to the floor. He picked him up, dropped him on the bed, felt his pulse and nodded. A minute later he reached the old man in the shop. “I’ve gwine to flicks, Pap, I be seein’ yuh.” “All right, all right,” Redsmith quavered. “Is it quite safe upstairs?” “Sho’ t’ing, de guy's 0.K.,” Charlie beamed, and bit off half an inch of chewing plug as he lounged out of the shop. One big advantage in working for Sir Basil Meldrum was that the flicks were free. Sir Jonathan Tysart glared belligerently at Mr Rupert Bannister and thudded a clenched fist on to his desk. It was nearly five o’clock on the same afternoon and Sir Jonathan was tired of the subject under review.

“I’m —not—paying! Wellward won’t either, first time in my life I’ve agreed with him! I didn’t think you—you!— would show the white feather.

Bannister fidgeted in his chair. “I don’t like it, Jonathan, I really don’t, but I can’t afford any more losses. You're all right, you've plenty of money, but I rely on the business. Be reasonable, old man.'’ "All right, pay, pay, pay!'’ Tysart almost jumped out of his chair. "You're one with Meldrum and Selsom—l'm convinced Selsom’s paying, but won't admit it. a born liar that man. I'm going home!” He pushed a drawer to, locked it, and pushed his keys into his pocket. "I'm fed right up—tired of it, nothing but this business from morning to night.” “You’re no more tired of it than I am,” Bannister said. “I—my God! He jumped, and Tysart stared belligerently towards the door that had opened without a by-your-leave. Both men recognised the woman and for a moment felt cold. Tysart recovered first. “You—you!” He shot his hand towards his bell-push. “You’ve made a mistake this time, you hussy, I—” His hand stopped, an inch from the push. Irma Cardew, as fresh and lovely as ever—even Bannister let his mind run on thoughts not strictly moral—was an expert at showing a gun at the critical moment. Tysart dropped back into his chair, and Bannister cleared his throat. “Don’t be foolish, gentlemen,” said Irma, self-possessed and menacing. CHAPTER IX. “On a Peaceful Errand” | “I know the police are outside,” | said Irma to the two men. "I know ' that you could call them and give me in charge, but I promise you that

you wouldn’t like to give evidence against me. I’ve come,” she added with a flashing smile of mockery, “on a peaceful errand.” “Damn your errands!” muttered Tysart. “You’re still in that mood are you?” Irma looked at him thoughtfully almost pityingly. “I’ve come with a final offer. I’ve the assignment papers for both of you with me, and it will take only a few seconds to sign them. Well?” She looked at Bannister now, and the unhappy-looking Rupert plucked a fountain-pen from his pocket. - i “You don’t get a guarantee,” said Irma. “You just trust me, Mr Bannister. And—you?” She looked at Tysart, her eyes j half-closed, the papers for signing i in her hand. Tysart’s eyes were | staring wide, as though he could see | into the future, and knew the price of refusal. But there was a streak of obstinacy and more than a patch of courage in the little man with the golden hair. “I—won’t—do it!” “Please yourself,” shrugged Irma and she seemed to brush Tysart aside. “Sign that, Bannister, I’m in

a hurry.” Bannister’s hand was trembling, but he signed, the document—similar to that which Selsam had signed on the previous morning. It might have been the automatic still in j Irma’s hand, memory of the outrages and the cold-blooded killing, or the cumulative effect of them all. The paper was signed. Tysart was trembling, standing close to the bell-push. Irma laughed suddenly, silently, and opened her handbag. She took something out, a little wrap of paper, opened it, and then tossed the contents to- i wards Tysart. As it went through | the air she turned towards the door, j while Tysart was staggering, clutch- j ing at his eyes, gasping for breath. And then he started to sneeze, for pepper was floating about the room, and Bannister followed suit. Both men were reeling and sneezing helplessly as Irma Cardew reached the j street below and climbed into her i Rolls. Two watching detectives j followed her but she lost them in two minutes, leaving them to try to make j up a report to satisfy McNab. Racketeers’ Threats About the time that Tysart and j Bannister were sneezing and the Toff was stretched out but conscious J in the top room of Abraham Redj smith’s shop premises in the Mile ! End Road, a pale-faced, hot-eyed • youth was waiting in the office of [ Sir Bruce Wellward. j j Wellward had told the Toff earlier that day that he was doing his best j | to keep everything normal, despite | ! the threats from the racketeers. But j Ithe temporary loss of his secretary i —operated on for appendicitis as he ] had told the Toff—had complicated j j things still more. He had sent an | urgent summons to Employment | Agencies for a male secretary with j a wide experience of the cinema in- j dustry as it concerned the Regia Picture Corporation. Pete Delray—but lately working I for Mr Gabriel Selsom—had drunk i himself blind, on the previous night j and staggeied home. The Delrays,

I brother and sister, ran a small flat lin Fulham, and Anne Delray had | watched the gradual disintegration | of her brother since the loss of theii parents. The pilfering at Selsom’s I had seemed the last straw. | Pete Delray had listened to a lo; I of things, but nothing as scathing as j Anne's ten-minute harangue when Ihe had sobered up. And a tense- ] lipped, dogged and determined Del--1 ray called at the agencies, and then | unexpectedly learned of Wellward’s | requirements. (To be continued;