by John Creasey
And then the interruption came.
It was no more than a light tap on the cellar door, but it made Hi Ling withdraw the knife, made the others turn their heads abruptly. The Toff did not follow their example. He saw the roughneck step away from him and open the door, but he did not see the wizened ancient, although he heard his words.
‘Mr. Ling—there is word for Mr. Ling.’
Chamberlain swore.
‘Get to hell out of here before I—’
‘A moment,’ said Hi Ling. ‘You forget that this is my house, mistah, these men my men. Yes, old one, what is it?’
‘There’s a ‘phone message from the docks, Boss. The Customs is holding one o’ the ships.’
Dougall swore.
‘If it’s—’
‘Be silent!’ snapped Hi Ling. He turned to Chamberlain, and at the same time glanced at the Toff, but expressionlessly. ‘Mistah, I must go at once to see the reason for this delay. Dougall must also come. It will be well to keep Rollison here, unless—like me—you believe he will not talk, or knows nothing to talk of. Dead or alive he must stay here until I return.’
‘Goddam you! Another ten minutes—’
‘You have seen Rollison, yet you do not believe in him,’ said Hi Ling. ‘It cannot be helped, mistah; I must go, and go now. It may perhaps give you time to think, Rollison.’
He went out swiftly, with Dougall on his heels. Chamberlain swore for thirty seconds on end, then stopped himself and stood up from his chair.
‘You can rot down here,’ he snarled. ‘Clear out, you!’ He jerked a thumb towards the roughneck, who went out first. Rollison watched Chamberlain go, and heard the door close. A moment later the electric light, controlled by an outside switch, went out. The cellar was in complete darkness, and the only sound was the breathing of the two men.
At last Brendon muttered: ‘It—it was ghastly, it—’
‘Don’t be a fool,’ said the Toff equably. ‘Worse things have happened and worse things will. I got off lightly, and while there’s time there’s hope. That was the trouble before.’
‘There isn’t a ghost of a chance, and—’
‘There’s a surprising lot of chances,’ said the Toff, and he stopped rubbing his wrists to get the circulation back properly, and took a handkerchief from his trousers pocket. He tied it awkwardly about the top of his arm, so that it covered the burn and prevented chafing. ‘Chamberlain has the wind up properly. He forgot I wasn’t tied up.’
‘How does that help?’
Both men were talking in whispers, as if to tone with the darkness and the silence. For a moment Rollison did not answer, but at last he said: ‘I can free you, and there are chairs and boxes in here – while the door opens inwards. Oh, Chamberlain made a mistake all right; it’s one of those chances that do come sometimes. Did you hear him talking of killing policemen?’
‘No, I—What?’
‘It is a point,’ admitted Rollison. He could not see, but he reached Brendon by going in the direction of the man’s voice, and he sought for the cords at the other’s wrists. ‘A knife would help, but we can’t have everything, and they’ve rifled my pockets.’
‘How the devil can you talk as if there was nothing the matter?’ gasped Brendon.
‘Can you tell me a better way to talk?’ asked Rollison. ‘If you want the whole truth, I’m so glad to be alive and whole for a few hours longer that I could sing many songs with great inaccuracy. Do you understand—that’s one knot, rub your wrists while I do the ankle cords—that we’ve gained time, and the police will be after Chamberlain?’
‘Why?’
‘Because of the dead policemen,’ said the Toff. ‘I never hope to see a man who’s absolutely scared stiff any more clearly than Chamberlain. He was desperate to hear whether I knew anything or not, whether I’d passed it on to the Yard, or … That’s the other knot. Crawl about before you start walking.’
He was speaking for the sake of it, chiefly to get Brendon nearer to normal, although there was much truth and common sense in what he said. He did feel as though he had been under sentence of death, and had been reprieved, and the pain in his armpit was negligible.
His ears were alert for the slightest sound of approach, but none came. In ten minutes, Brendon was talking rationally, and able to walk fairly freely.
‘All we need now is a light,’ said the Toff.
His eyes were growing accustomed to the gloom, but as he walked about he stumbled against chairs and the table. But he collected them together near the door, and then went on his knees in the hope of finding a chopper or hammer that might prove useful as a weapon.
He found none.
He was hardly aware of the passing of time, but he began to feel hungry, and Brendon admitted he felt the same. Minutes dragged by, the waiting seemed interminable. There was no sound from above them, no hint of a return of Chamberlain and the others.
Rollison settled himself by the door, sitting with his back towards it, not daring to doze although the temptation was strong. It was maddening not to be able to tell the time while hearing the ticking of his watch clearly. He tried to estimate it, but beyond feeling sure that at least two hours had passed he could not do so.
At last he heard footsteps coming down the stairs.
The fact that Arnold Chamberlain was an alien helped in the speedy circulation of an accurate description. Little was said in the police radio that went out, but word of the two missing detectives was asked, as well as the detention of anyone answering Chamberlain’s description. In that way nine men were detained in various parts of London, until each could prove his real identity.
At half past eleven McNab had nearly given up hope of quick results.
At twenty to twelve, while the harassed Chief Inspector was talking to the A.C. by telephone, a beat-policeman who had been off duty from eight o’clock – the call had gone out just after nine – was talking with a colleague on duty, and heard of the request for news about Chamberlain.
He said enough to make McNab hurry to the Bays-water Station, where the man would normally be stationed.
‘This man ye saw,’ said McNab brusquely. ‘Can ye swear to him answering that description, Morgan?’
‘Yes, sir, quite, sir. The man to a T, sir.’
‘Where did you see him?’
‘He got off a cab at Bayswater Road Station, sir, and walked down Queen’s Road. It looked unusual, sir, getting out of a cab and then walking. I saw him go into Number 29a.’
‘How is it you remember the number?’
‘It’s a boarding-house, sir; there’s been some rum customers there at different times.’
As near as he could, McNab felt excitement.
‘Right. Did you notice the number of the cab?’
‘Sorry, sir, I didn’t.’
‘All right.’ McNab lifted a telephone and sent a request for taxi-drivers who had deposited fares outside the station that evening to report to the Yard. He telephoned again for a Flying Squad car, for he was taking no chances. At ten past twelve he knocked heavily on the door of Number 29a, but there was no response. Three knocks were enough to convince McNab that either the house was empty or the occupier did not intend to open up. McNab, with the full authority of a search-warrant in his pocket, had one of his men force the door.
He found the place empty, until he reached the cellar. And after forcing the lock of the door he found Rollison and the youngster who had been at his flat – and both men were dirty and tired, but alive and well.
While the Toff admitted unreservedly that he had never been so overjoyed to see a policeman.
Later, when he was refreshed and bathed, and the burn in his armpit had been properly dressed, the Toff passed the opinion that Chamberlain and the others at the house had been warned of the police-call – rumours did get round, and Hi Ling would be one of the first to hear. Hi Ling, acting quickly and expertly, would have persuaded Chamberlain to leave the house, without harming Rollison or Brendon. T
he Toff could almost hear the Chinaman telling Chamberlain that to commit more murder would be to ensure a rendezvous with the gallows.
‘And he’d have been right,’ said the Toff, leaning back in an easy chair, and, except for a more than usual paleness, looking none the worse for his adventure. ‘For once I needed a hell of a lot of plain good fortune, my Mac, and you brought it to me.’
‘Why didn’t ye tell us all ye knew?’ demanded McNab.
‘I did. I know practically nothing, except …’
The Toff gave a brief and not complete resume of what he did know, and McNab admitted that there was little he could have passed on to the police which was of useful purpose. It was not known at the time how accurate the Toff ’s estimate of Hi Ling’s action and the departure of Chamberlain had been; later he knew that it had been almost word-perfect. For the moment: ‘You’ll want to have a go at Hi Ling’s ships, Mac.’
‘Ay. Rolleeson, did you see those two men of mine?’
‘I did not.’ The Toff looked, and felt, sombre. ‘But I heard talk of killing policemen, Mac, and I’m afraid they’ve not had the same luck as I did.’
‘Ach, no. Well, I’ll be going. Ye need a good night’s sleep, Rolleeson.’
‘You’re right, as always,’ smiled the Toff,
He did not, however, propose to have a good night’s sleep. He told a much-relieved Jolly that they were going down to Hersham, and he had little trouble in persuading Brendon to make the trip with him. In the small Frazer-Nash which Jolly drove the Toff alternately dozed and thought.
McNab now knew practically all he did – except the mention of the country house, and that, after all, was not knowledge but surmise – and the peculiar if small part Mr. Meer had played. That angle puzzled the Toff and he badly wanted to discover the possibilities behind it. It might, of course, mean nothing: on the other hand, an antique dealer in a sleepy old country town had wonderful opportunities for assisting in – for instance – drug distribution.
There was the Lowerby angle, too.
The Toff was, for once, inclined to wonder whether he should have made a clean breast of everything to McNab: certainly he owed the inspector that. On the other hand he was afraid that the many complications might result in the American slipping through the police net.
He did not expect Mannering to be pleased at being dragged from his bed at half past three in the morning, and he was right. But Mannering calmed down, told what little he knew of Mr. Meer, asked somewhat tentatively whether Rollison would be free for the next day’s match – which was also the last of the cricket week – and was not surprised to learn that it was doubtful.
‘What you can do for me,’ said the Toff, ‘is provide me with a bed, and then find me a register of empty houses in the neighbourhood that I can look at in the morning.’
‘Empty what?’
‘Houses,’ said the Toff; and yawned so widely that Mannering asked no more questions. Twenty minutes after his arrival at the house the Toff was fast asleep, and in the servants’ wing Jolly was also sleeping.
While through the darkness of the early hours Chamberlain, Hi Ling and Dougall sped from London towards Hersham.
Chapter Eighteen
Rough Stuff
The trio did not travel in the same car, but drove within half a mile of each other, all of them aware of the possibility that they would meet trouble before reaching the Sussex town. All of them had differing thoughts. Dougall was more frightened than anything else, and his hatred centralised on the Toff. Hi Ling was alarmed, but did not reveal that fact in his expression: he believed – in fact he knew – that Chamberlain’s murder of the two C.I.D. officers had been the turning point of the affair.
The Chinaman knew that the flourishing coastal shipping business was smashed – the legal as well as the illegal side. The ship which had been held up by the Customs had contained, among other things, stolen jewels from Paris, and a fair-sized cache of cocaine. Once he had realised that, and known that the arrest of himself and Dougall was inevitable, he had gone to the ‘Steam Packet’, collected what available money he had there – and it was a substantial amount, for he had always prepared against emergency – and considered the situation.
Capital, even some thirty thousand pounds, would not last for ever. And Dougall was not so well off. There was need for quick action, and for quick money.
Had he followed his inclinations he would have neglected to warn Chamberlain when, through a runner at the ‘Steam Packet’, he had learned of the police call out for the American. But Chamberlain had money – not only as Chamberlain. He had more negotiable assets than Hi Ling or Dougall, and he had a hide-out near Hersham which might well prove a place of safety. There was no such harbour in London.
Hi Ling had warned Chamberlain, in consequence, of his knowledge.
There remained Hi Ling knew, the Sanderson angle, one that even now might yield considerable profit. Chamberlain had smashed a successful business in the trafficking in drugs and jewels, but he still had one hope of getting out with a handsome margin.
Part of which margin Hi Ling desired. Certainly amiable relations with Chamberlain were necessary, and Hi Ling remained amiable, after the arrangement to go in their separate cars to the Sussex hideout.
Chamberlain – with his grey wig and the other items of disguise which made him less vulnerable to a police interrogation on the road than either of the others – was wondering how he could finish his work with the help of Hi Ling, and then avoid paying them for their services. He believed it could be done.
He swore to himself when he thought of the Toff. If the man had been made to talk …
Hi Ling should have made him. Hi Ling deserved all he got, but he was necessary for the time being. Necessary, in short, until such time as Chamberlain had all he wanted and could get out of the country. It might take two days, or even three; certainly neither Dougall nor Hi Ling were dangerous to him while he was at Hersham; he had one trick which they could not counter. They would try, he had no doubt: Hi Ling and Dougall were as suspicious of him as he of them.
But Chamberlain, calmer now that the first rush of danger from the police was past, had confidence in his greater efficiency.
And he laughed when he realised that Dr. Vincent Lowerby was going to get some shocks.
On the following morning the Toff awakened just after nine, feeling considerably refreshed even if his right armpit was somewhat more painful than he liked.
Jolly brought in the morning tea.
‘It was through you, sir, that the police suspected Chamberlain of illegal operations,’ he said. ‘Through you that Dougall and Hi Ling were suspected of being concerned in this affair, and therefore through you that the Customs authorities held up the ship which prevented Hi Ling and Dougall from—er—completing their self-imposed task. Consequently, sir, you might be said to have been the leading figure in the arrival of the police at Queen’s Road, and—’
‘I know, I saved myself,’ smiled the Toff. ‘Your loyalty does you credit, but in any case it was just one of those things. Meanwhile, we’re going to be busy. Is Mr. Brendon all right?’
‘Yes, sir. I ran his bath for him twenty minutes ago. He appears in somewhat bad temper, sir.’
‘In the circumstances we can’t blame him. Did Sir George provide that register of empty houses?’
‘Yes, sir, it is here.’
‘Imagine a reasonably wealthy Australian who was going to buy a wedding present for his only daughter,’ said the Toff, ‘and pick out any houses you think might fit the bill.’ He grinned as he gave the instructions, and went into the bathroom. When he returned, still more refreshed, he found Jolly at a table in his room, with a pencil in one hand, a mass of papers in front of him, and a close approach to a worried frown on his forehead.
‘As bad as that, is it, Jolly?’
‘I’ve selected every house over five thousand pounds,’ said Jolly conservatively, ‘and there are twenty-three of them within a twenty-
mile radius of Hersham, sir.’
‘Hmm.’ The Toff began to dress, and his voice was somewhat muffled from beneath his shirt. ‘Have you a map?’
‘Yes, at my side, sir.’
‘Have you marked the field where the body was found?’
‘My pencil is on it, sir.’
‘Take your pencil along the London road for a while,’ said the Toff, ‘and find all side-turnings that you can. Go, say, for ten miles, and then try to find the empty houses fairly near the main road on either side. Follow?’
‘Yes, sir …’ Jolly carried on with his work. The Toff finished dressing. When he stepped to his man’s side Jolly had the particulars of three houses separated from the others, and he handed them to the Toff.
‘They would appear to be the most likely, sir. You will note that on the particulars of one the estate agents have marked: “Let for one year, but possession might be obtained for a serious buyer earlier.” It is not, therefore, likely to be empty at the moment.’
‘No-o. Which one is it?’
‘Wyndham Manor, sir. The particulars, according to the list, suggest an extremely attractive Elizabethan property.’
‘My acquaintance with house agents is limited,’ said the Toff, ‘but I’m told they’re prone to exaggeration. Jolly, have a look at these three places—Wyndham Manor can be included as you’re bound to pass nearby—and let me know what you think of them. You might take young Brendon with you since he’s come. It will make him feel that he’s being active.’
‘I’ll do that, sir.’ Jolly collected the other papers and made a neat pile. ‘Where are your movements likely to be?’
Rollison grinned.
‘Worried about the possibility of another fiasco like yesterday’s? I’ll be in Hersham, near Lowerby’s, and conceivably near Mr. Meer’s antique shop. In fact if you haven’t heard from me by two o’clock you can tell Sir George that both places need immediate investigation.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ said Jolly, with obvious satisfaction.
The Toff went down to a belated breakfast to find Mannering not much earlier, and several other hearty-cricketers prepared to pull his leg on the matter of his investigations. Looking at them, five men in all, and all healthy and wealthy, an idea flashed through his mind that he did not immediately voice.
