Accuse the Toff Read Free Page A

as he’s a Commando—cracks up and goes haywire. It’s happened often enough before. Now and again there’s an unsuspected neurotic amongst the special troops and it comes out when least expected. Why shouldn’t it be just that?’
    â€˜Isn’t it?’ murmured the Toff.
    Grice raised one eyebrow above the other. ‘It wouldn’t surprise me to hear that you know damned well that it isn’t,’ he said. ‘Or it mightn’t be,’ Grice corrected slowly. ‘It was a peculiar business and I haven’t sorted it out yet. On the surface everything is the same as it’s been before. The last straw breaking the camel’s back, a wild shooting affray and a mad rush by car. The main difference is that the man got away this time, evading all his followers. We’ve traced most of the eye-witnesses—in fact the only one who was there but hasn’t been found was a young RAF man. He’ll probably keep in the background.’
    â€˜So I read,’ said Rollison.
    â€˜What did you read into it?’ asked Grice, obviously genuinely interested in the other’s opinions.
    â€˜Just a single question,’ Rollison admitted. ‘Here’s a man who goes haywire after a slight jolt from a car, sprays bullets about him and then tears off in the said car. But he doesn’t dash along the main road until he has a crash; he doesn’t do the things that a man suffering from a brainstorm is likely to. He goes down a narrow turning leading to a maze of streets—I’m quoting the Echo— and disappears completely. He could have turned off at several other points but without a maze of streets conveniently handy for losing himself in.’
    He broke off and regarded the Superintendent with some eagerness while Grice nodded.
    â€˜I’ve got that far,’ he admitted. ‘Just.’
    â€˜Have you found the car yet?’ asked Rollison.
    â€˜Yes. Stranded near the Grand Junction Canal, at Wembley,’ Grice told him. ‘We’re having the canal dragged. It’s just possible that he came to, realised what he’d done and drowned himself. But there’s an odd thing,’ added the Superintendent. ‘The canal is patrolled regularly by the Home Guard and a man who passed the spot at six o’clock this morning swears that it wasn’t there then. Another, who passed at eight—on the last round, they only patrol it during darkness-discovered it. The petrol tank,’ he added heavily, ‘was half-full.’
    Rollison’s eyes narrowed.
    â€˜The man Ibbetson said it was only a quarter-full when it was stolen. Quoting the Post!’
    â€˜You don’t miss much,’ admitted Grice. ‘I haven’t made up my mind whether Ibbetson knew there was more petrol in the tank than there should have been and is covering himself or whether the car was taken somewhere else and refilled. It might have travelled a hundred miles during the night: Ibbetson says he doesn’t remember the mileage showing when it was stolen.’
    He paused and then the telephone rang on his desk. He lifted it and after a moment said: ‘Ask him to come along, will you?’ He replaced the receiver and added: ‘The police-surgeon who treated the victims is coming in with the Chiswick man who’s upstairs with Freeman. Stay, if you’d care to.’
    â€˜I don’t think I’ll worry,’ said Rollison, pushing his chair back. ‘There is one other little thing—’
    â€˜Let it come,’ invited Grice.
    â€˜Who died?’ asked Rollison. ‘Did they matter? Could they have been picked out?’
    Grice rubbed his long chin.
    â€˜One was a customer, the other a member of the staff of a shop in Green Road—a furniture shop. The other members of the staff, three in all, were leaving at the same time, just after six o’clock. They were in a group in the doorway and the staff