Salute the Toff Read Free Page B

heavy.
    â€œOh, no!” she said, and her voice was low-pitched. “Oh, it can’t be true!”
    The Toff said nothing, and she looked towards the door, as if determined to go in and see for herself. He meant to prevent that, but he did not have to fight, for she shivered from head to foot, then turned towards the stair-head.
    The Toff closed and locked the door, slipped the key into his pocket – handling the key with his gloves so as to make sure that his finger-prints did not show – and took the girl’s arm as she began to descend the stairs. She walked stiffly, as if with no idea of what she was doing. As they reached the landing a door opened and a woman appeared.
    The Toff saw her clearly.
    She was very tiny and very smart – not characteristic of that part of Chelsea, nor in a flat of that kind, for she had spent a small fortune on her dress. Her hair was red, and the most remarkable thing about her were her eyes, very large and brilliant, and amber in colour.
    She looked curiously at the girl and the Toff, then preceded them down the stairs.
    â€œThat might be unfortunate,” the Toff said sotto voce, and to his mingled surprise and relief Fay said: “Oughtn’t we to have been seen?”
    â€œIt doesn’t matter a great deal.”He had spoken to try to make her think of something else. “We’ll manage, Fay. Bundle in.”
    â€œBut what are you going to do?”
    â€œI’ll handle it all,” said the Toff quietly. “That’s one thing you needn’t let yourself worry about”
    She said: “Thank God I came to you.”
    Then she stepped into the car, and he followed her, driving more quickly on the return journey. She did not ask questions when he reached the flat, and after he had insisted that she should drink a weak whisky-and-soda, which made her grimace, but brought some colour back to her cheeks, he telephoned a Kensington number.
    A pleasant feminine voice answered: “Who is calling, please?”
    â€œAnthea,” said the Toff quietly, “can you desert Jamie for a few hours, perhaps even a day or so?”
    â€œCan I— what!”
    â€œI’m quite serious, and I’m not alone,” said the Toff.
    â€œOh, Rolly, nothing’s the matter, is it? Yes, I’ll come over. Jamie can look after himself. What—what is it?”
    â€œI’ll tell you when you get here,” said the Toff.
    He replaced the receiver, to find Fay staring at him, neither blankly nor with excessive curiosity.
    â€œWho was that?”
    â€œA friend of mine who’ll be a friend of yours.”
    â€œI see,” Fay said. “You’re very kind.”
    â€œNonsense,” said the Toff, and took up the receiver again. He saw no purpose in trying to hide the necessary formalities: to try to enshroud her with a cloak of hush-hush would do more harm than good. So she heard him speak to Scotland Yard, and then to a Chief Inspector McNab, who also lived in Chelsea, and who had taken a well-earned day’s rest.
    To the Toff, McNab did not sound affable.
    â€œWhat ees it, Rolleeson?” His accent was unreliable, and privately the Toff considered that he was a case of the Scotsman occasionally pretending to be what he was. “If there is any reason for a call the night—”
    â€œWould I be worrying you otherwise?” asked the Toff reproachfully, to which McNab replied that he would not be surprised. He stopped his complaints when the Toff told him what had happened. He finished: “So the key’s here, Mac, and I disturbed nothing.”
    â€œWill ye bring the key to the hoose?” demanded McNab.
    â€œI’d rather you sent for it,” said the Toff, “and I’ll come to see you later.” He was an old acquaintance of McNab.
    There had been a time, particularly in the days when the Toff had been little known, and when legend had not grown up about him, when his