Introducing The Toff Read Free

passenger in the rear when the seat next to him was vacant. Yet twice the red glow of a cigarette spread for a second, and died down.
    Someone was in the back of the Daimler; there was no shred of doubt about it.
    ‘Stranger and stranger,’ thought the Toff, and he was beginning to enjoy himself.
    As the two cars crawled in ghostly succession, he formed an opinion in the manner that had made him the best-hated man in the shadier purlieus of the East End.
    After the driver of the Daimler had jammed on his brakes and slithered to safety he had deliberately dazzled the Toff by switching on the headlights. Why? Obviously to give that mysterious passenger time to draw the curtains and hide his face. And the passenger was not overloaded with little grey cells; otherwise he would have doused the cigarette.
    The Toff’s conjecture was not water-tight, but it was sound enough to rouse that curiosity. He had positive doubts of the doctor’s story, but he didn’t voice them. There might be more in this than met the eye, but it would not be revealed by slinging sudden questions. Nor, unless things happened quickly, would it be revealed that night.
    The cars, still nose to nose, reached the wider stretch of road. The Toff swung his Frazer-Nash close to the hedge; brambles scratched along the wings as he smiled blandly at the man with the beard. A more affable, anger-appeased motorist would have been hard to find.
    ‘Here we are,’ the Toff said. ‘But go steady for the next half-mile. The road twists about a lot, and everybody doesn’t know it as well as I do.’
    The ‘doctor’ ignored the thrust.
    ‘You have my very best thanks. I very much appreciate your courtesy, sir.’
    ‘Delighted,’ lied the Toff, and waved his hand.
    His fingers could have brushed the body of the Daimler as it squeezed past. Taking a cigarette from his case, the Toff struck a match as the doctor, in line with him, nodded with that touch of condescending arrogance which had annoyed the Toff before, and angered him again now beyond all reason.
    The Toff bit back an acid comment. He made an ineffectual effort to see through the drawn curtains, and then shrugged his shoulders. It was a promising little mystery nipped in the bud. A pity.
    And then suddenly his jaw hardened, and subconsciously his hand moved towards his fob pocket, where in days of ‘off’ business he parked his gun. For out of the corners of his eyes he saw the curtains widen; the mysterious passenger was curious.
    The Toff was very wary, even before he saw the gun poking towards him from the rear window.

 
2:   AND MAKES A DISCOVERY
    The Toff’s teeth snapped viciously and he ducked, grabbed for his own gun. But before he could draw, the air behind him was punctured by two yellow stabs of flame! Two soft ‘zutts’ told of an efficient silencer; lead nosed bullets potted into the rear of the sports car.
    Tight-lipped with fury, the Toff found his gun and screwed round to take aim, still keeping under cover of his car’s hood. But before his finger touched the trigger the air was split again by two yellow flashes; a bullet plonked into the rear offside wheel, and the little car lurched on one side as the tyre burst with a deafening report.
    The Toff felt the machine quiver from bonnet to tail-lamp; he stumbled helplessly forward, losing his grip on his gun and banging his nose painfully on the dashboard. Tears swam in his eyes, half-blinding him as he crouched out of the line of fire. He was burning to take a pot shot at the gunman, but he knew better than to show so much as the tip of his nose. For once in his life he had been caught for a sucker; there was no need to act like one!
    He made a lightning review of the possibilities as he regained his automatic. Was the attack a deliberate and planned attempt on his life? It would not have been the first; there were a hundred rogues who hated him enough, for it. Or had Providence rocketed him into trouble coincidentally?
    The