Salute The Toff

Waikato Times, Volume 127, Issue 21184, 6 August 1940, Page 8

Salute The Toff

BY JOHN CREASEY

CHAPTER XXI. (continued) “You told Rollison nothing, but he follows you, with Delray. Odd that Delray worked for you before he started getting a nuisance.” The cinema magnate’s foreheard was beaded with sweat. “I assure you, I ” “Said nothing, eh? That’s what brought Rollison.” There was something in her expression that made Gabriel Selsom dreadfully afraid. But she laughed. “Don’t worry, my friend. You’ll be all right—this time. Rollison fell for it, as I expected he would. He’s got just one fault, of being too clever. Too clever, Gabriel. That’s a lesson you might learn. Where’s the money?” Gabriel Selsom picked up the case. She opened it, with a key he provided, and saw the notes that were crammed into it, all of small denomination. “Ten thousand?” “Every penny of it!” He was breathing hard, and he still looked terribly afraid. She nodded, slipped one note from a wad, and examined it. She seemed satisfied, and dropped it carelessly on to a settee.

OUR SERIAL STORY

“They seem all right. As soon as the mess outside is cleared up, you can get back. But next time—come alone.” “I tell you ”

“Don’t trouble to tell me anything,” said Irma Cardew, gently. “See that big man in the garden, Gabriel?” Selsom looked through the bay window. Several men were in the garden, two holding a tall, stout and fat-faced customer whose pink handkerchief drooped from his pocket. Next to him, also gripped by the wrists, was a younger, smaller man in an outrageous pea-green suit.

“Rollison and Delray,” said Irma. “So dressed up that 1 could recognise them a mile off. I knew you’d talk —and in case of accident I made sure Rollison knew where to come. He’s worked on his own once too often, though—and when he’s dead he might learn that it’s sometimes wise to rely on the police. And listen, Selsom.” Her voice grew indescribably hard, “when Rollison is gone, you’ll have to rely on the police. And the first time you see them, we’ll be watching. You—Wellward—Bannister. You’re all dying, and dying painfully, if you talk. You’ll pay as I told you, and if you try trouble, we won’t raid the cinemas until after you’re dead.” Selsom wiped his forehead. He could not force his eyes away from the woman standing there, although he heard the heavy footsteps in the hall. The drawing-room door opened. Pete Delray' was pushed through first, and a plug-ugly held a gun unpleasantly close to him. The man with the drooping pink handkerchief followed, breathing very hard. Irma laughed as she stepped towards him. The moustache came off as she tugged at it, and her words were honey-sweet. “My dear Rollison—it’s not worthy of you. I could hardly believe you’d go to lengths like these. We had a call from Regent Street five minutes after you’d left, but we expected you in any case.” Pete Delray grunted, still dazed, but conscious.

“I thought it was damned silly, Roily. I ” And then he stopped, and the smile seemed to freeze on Irma Cardew’s face. For as a gunman wiped the grease-paint off the stout man’s face, they knew the truth. It wasn’t Rollison; it was Jolly! Put One Over Irma Caraew’s breathing was short and jerky. Delray was staring at Jolly as though he could not believe his ears. The Toff wasn’t here—the Toff had put one over on them, and Irma found her voice. “Jolly, eh? So Rollison still thinks he’s clever. Where is he?” Jolly shrugged his shoulders. “He did not think it necessary to advise me, Miss.” “You’ll think it necessary to think again,” snapped Irma Cardew, and there was nothing beautiful about her. Her lips were turned back in a snarl that was more animal than human, and her open palm whipped against Jolly’s face. The man stepped back a pace—and then Delray moved. In the shock of the discovery the toughs who had come into the room had relaxed their hold and Pete took advantage of it. His hand dropped like lightning to his pocket, and the gun came out. Thank God they hadn’t searched him. “Keep back! Jolly, move towards the door. You—” he stabbed the gun towards Irma—“get by the window. Selsom, go with Jolly, and take that case.” Irma did not move. The gangsters went slowly towards the win-

dow, and as if they were contemplating a rush, but the cold steel held them back. Pete’s smile was thin. “Put her by the window, Jolly, and ” But he got no further. He had not seen the man in the hall—a man who came downstairs silently, and whose right hand held an automatic. But he heard the crash of the shot, and the gun in his own hand went flying from his fingers, while the shock to his wrist was such that it seemed broken. The theartened rush became a fact. Pete tried to fight, but the odds were helpless. Someone tied cord round his ankles and wrists, pulling it painfully tight. Selsom suffered the same, with Jolly!” “Get ’em upstairs,” snapped Irma “Hurry!” They were carried upstairs, helpless to defend themselves, and the small room where they were thrown was hardly big enough to hold them in comfort. The window was tiny—far too small for them to get through, and as the door was closed and locked against them, Pete Delray swore. “Of all the luck ” “You did very well, sir,” said Jolly. Tied as he was, he spoke as though he was bowing before Rollison, and nothing had happened to worry them. “I should trust Mr Rollison, sir, if I were you.” “Trust Rollison!” barked Selsom. “Why ” “He usually manages to find a way out of difficulties, sir,” said Jolly. “And—do I hear a car?” he broke off. The absurdity of the words made Delray laugh, but he stopped laughing a moment later. He heard the rush of footsteps outside, and Irma’s voice. (To be continued)