Here Comes the Toff

by John Creasey

  “Fifty-fifty what?” said the Toff.

  “You can take Wrightson and the girl,” said Irma. “We won’t stop you. But you’ll keep out of this business from now until …”

  Rollison shrugged.

  “No deal, Irma.”

  “You’re so impatient,” said Irma, easily; “let me finish. Until tomorrow. Just for tonight.”

  The Toff confounded the gloom, for he could not see her expression. As it was, he had to judge from the inflection of her voice just why the suggestion was put forward. He imagined that she was worrying most about her own safety. Certainly it would be a big thing if he could get away with the girl and Wrightson.

  “I might take you,” he said, “up to midnight.”

  “That will do.”

  “Oh, no,” said Kohn, and the Toff knew from the concentrated fury in his voice that he would gladly have strangled his accomplice. “Rollison’s found his own way in; he can find his own way out.”

  “You’ll change your mind,” said Irma. She spoke under her breath, and the Toff didn’t catch her words. Kohn did, and grunted. Irma said: “It’s a deal, Rollison?”

  “It’s a deal,” said the Toff, “as soon as the others are out in the street.”

  “I’ll arrange it,” said Irma.

  In the darkness of the landing he could just see her as she moved. Kohn turned, too, but the Toff warned him to stay. A door opened softly, and Irma’s voice came clearly: “Take her downstairs, Tike.”

  Who Tike was the Toff did not know; he did know the roughneck, who had certainly drunk Charlie Wray’s beer, and who came out of the room carrying the girl over his shoulder, fireman fashion. He stopped for a moment when he saw the Toff.

  “Hurry!” snapped Irma.

  The Toff let the man pass, and heard him go down the stairs to return for Wrightson. The Toff recognised Wrightson’s fair, crisp hair, as Tike half carried, half dragged him.

  “There you are,” Irma said. There was mockery and yet relief in her voice. “A truce until midnight, Rollison. I shall probably be in bad with Leo over this, but I’ll risk it.”

  “Nice of you,” said the Toff. “Can Tike drive a car?”

  “He can.”

  “Tell him to go a hundred yards along the street and bring my Frazer-Nash,” said the Toff. “He can put the youngsters in, and that will be enough for tonight.”

  There was a chance that someone would see what happened in the street unless things were done quickly; he grinned when Kohn helped the roughneck to load the car. Irma was standing near the Toff, who had pocketed his gun. It was an odd fact that he knew he could take Irma’s word for it that she would not cause trouble – nor let anyone else cause it – until midnight. He was relieved up to a point.

  There had been one reason only, of course, why he had taken the offer, and allowed them some three hours in which to work. Wrightson and the girl would have been in poor shape had he insisted on fighting, and even had Tike been the only other man in the house, the odds would have been heavy enough to make the situation ugly.

  Irma, of course, had realised that in a shooting match she or Kohn, and perhaps both of them, would have been put out of action. She was thinking of herself; the undercurrent of enmity between her and Kohn was becoming more obvious with every encounter. But in her whisper to the man she had persuaded him to withdraw his objections to the bargain she had struck.

  Odd that the Toff could trust her.

  There were times when he was almost fond of Irma, others when he hated her, when he wanted nothing better than to see her in the dock.

  She had wanted that margin of safety, and he had accepted for one good reason; but there was another thing which had been in his mind all the time. In three hours Irma and Kohn could do little. They had wanted breathing space, and the Toff could also do with it.

  There was another factor; Wrightson and the girl were unimportant in their scheme, or Irma would not have let them go so easily.

  “You were wrong,” said Kohn coldly, “and you’ll pay for it.”

  “I sometimes wonder,” said Irma sharply, “whether you really are the fool you often look. What do you think Rollison is? You saw him shoot Ritzy, and he took the skin off your leg. If he’d wanted to force things then, he would have done. He needed time, and so did we.”

  “He should never have been allowed to go.”

  “But you might have been dead, and certainly you wouldn’t have been able to walk. In any case, we haven’t lost much. The mistake was in taking them.”

  Kohn shrugged his shoulders, and turned to a sideboard in the downstairs room. He served himself a drink, and raised it.

  “All right, have it your own way. But we’ll have to move fast, now, and we want Renway.”

  “Not for a few days,” said Irma. “We do want to learn what Ritzy told the Toff – if you haven’t killed him.” Her tone was conciliatory; how that she had gained her point, she allowed her enmity to sink out of sight.

  Kohn had not killed Ritzy, but that handsome man was unconscious and likely to be so for some time. They moved him from Abbott Road to a bide-out nearer Wapping, and Tike went with him. Kohn superintended the removal, while Irma took a taxi to St. John’s Wood.

  Renway was in, and his face brightened when he saw her.

  “I didn’t expect you tonight, my dear, but you’re always welcome.”

  Irma laughed, and took a cigarette from her case.

  “I felt fed-up, Paul. And I’m worried in case this thing doesn’t go through.”

  Renway smiled. He looked younger, and moved more easily about the room.

  “Nothing I back is a failure, Irma. The company is to be floated in two days, and the money will pour in. The directorate will do very well, I can assure you, very well indeed. A gin and Italian, my dear, or something stronger?”

  “Gin and It, thanks,” Irma said.

  She felt tired. The affair at Abbott Road had taken a lot out of her, and the task of persuading Kohn had taken, more. But in two days the new company would be on the market, the shares subscribed. Within forty-eight hours of that, she and Kohn would have their rake-off.

  It was so easy. Even the Toff would be able to do nothing to stop the getaway, for until the money was gone there was nothing illegal, everything was fair and above-board.

  Afterwards, Renway would be the scapegoat. He would be accused of the swindle, and when his finances were examined they would be found in a chaotic state of disorder. With the help of Ritzy and Kohn, Irma had seen to that.

  It was surprising how easy it was – while Kohn, by forcing the issue with Rollison that night, might have smashed the whole plot.

  The other directors of the company were unimportant, and would never be directly involved. The verdict of the City would be that Renway had suffered heavily, and had resorted to a fraudulent promotion in an attempt to recoup his losses.

  Of course, Renway must die – by natural causes; a slight overdose of the drug he took for his weak heart would be easy to administer, and there would be no trouble with the medical certificate.

  She would be suspected, of course, if only because of Rollison; but there would be no proof. She and Kohn would cash in and disappear. He was not officially associated with Renway; no one would suspect him. Kohn had planned well, Irma had superintended most of the execution, and in a few days they would see results.

  She thought of Renway again, without remorse, pleased that the boredom of his presence would soon be over. Renway raised his head.

  “Something amusing you, my dear?”

  “Odd thoughts,” she said evasively. He could not see her expression, for she was bending over the fire. “I shall be glad when it’s finished.”

  Renway leaned forward and patted her hand.

  “Don’t forget it’s
for you, Irma. For you and me.”

  She looked up, and in her eyes was a veiled promise, while her smile was sleepy and provocative.

  “Of course,” she said, “for you and me, Paul.”

  Ritzy had never particularly liked Leopold Kohn, and when he recovered consciousness his thoughts were vitriolic. He had little regard for the sanctity of human life, and he felt like murder.

  He was very deep in this affair.

  He was hoping to get a lot out of it, for the murder of Minnie Sidey had been cleverly managed. He had killed her because he realised Kohn was right when he had said the woman might squeal on Benson. He knew he was in Kohn’s hands, knew now that while Kohn lived he would never be safe. He felt the ugly bruise where Kohn had kicked him, and before he left the Wapping house he put an automatic, fully loaded, in his pocket.

  The Toff learned two things soon after he left Abbott Road. One of them gave him considerable satisfaction, and the other he found baffling.

  Wrightson and the girl were not badly injured, and Wrightson was able to talk, even during the journey to the Toff’s flat.

  The girl was still under the influence of drugs, and Wrightson told the Toff that her cry had been uttered while unconscious. Wrightson had been in the room with her, tied hand and foot. The man Tike had been there, and had simply stepped across the room and struck her. In her near coma she had whimpered, and kept quiet.

  But Wrightson did not know why he had been attacked. He could offer no explanation, even when they reached the flat. Soon the girl was in bed and resting, and Wrightson and the Toff were sitting opposite each other, strengthened by whiskies-and-sodas and cigarettes. Wrightson looked worn out.

  “There must be a reason,” said the Toff, “but it seems that they think you have served your purpose, or there would have been more trouble about letting you go. I suppose your uncle isn’t aware of being swindled?”

  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.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Quick Finish

  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.”