She kicked him on the shin.
It hurt.
He grabbed her again and held her very tightly, as if ready to squeeze the life out of her. She was more than scared, she was terrified. Abruptly he let her go. She backed away, breathing heavily and watching him nervously.
He gave her a dazzling smile.
His voice was quite unflurried when he said:
“Now let’s be friendly, shall we? I’m going to wait for Tiny, and you can’t exactly throw me out. I could even tell Tiny that I’d come to see you by appointment.”
Fear stormed in her eyes.
“You mustn’t do that!”
“Jealous, is he?” Rollison murmured. “Which in particular?”
“I’m—I’m Mrs. Wallis.”
“How do you do, Mrs. Wallis,” said Rollison politely. “When is Mr. Wallis likely to be in?”
“He might come in any time, and if he finds you here—” she broke off, still breathing hard, still frightened; but there was a changing look in her eyes. Rollison had often seen a look like it in a woman who had started off by wanting to cut his throat. She was just beginning to forget that he was Richard Rollison, the Toff, and beginning to realise that he was breathtakingly handsome, and had a way with him. “He’ll kill you,” she finished abruptly.
“And that wouldn’t do,” murmured Rollison, and offered her a cigarette. “Sure you don’t know what time he’ll be in?”
She answered almost at once.
“It won’t be later than seven, he always likes the news on the telly.”
“What about Clay?”
“He won’t be back till late,” she said. “He’s gone down to Guildford to see a pal.”
“I’ll find out who he’s beaten up in the morning,” said Rollison dryly. “So Tiny’s the only one to worry about for a while. Anyone else home?”
She shook her head.
“Clay not married?”
“No.”
“Just a friend?”
“He’s my brother.”
“Oh, is he?” said Rollison, more heavily, although he was still smiling. “You really had bad luck. With a brother like that you had to marry a man as bad if not worse. Why do you stand for it?”
She made no attempt to answer.
“Don’t try to tell me you like it,” said Rollison, and took a large envelope from his pocket and opened the flap. “Some women might but I don’t think you’re one of them. Seen these?” He handed her three police photographs of Jimmy Jones, when he had first been seen by the police and before the ambulance had taken him away. “Nice way for your husband to earn a living.”
“It’s none of my business!”
“It’s all your business,” Rollison said softly, “and if you go on shutting your eyes to it, one of these days you’ll find yourself in trouble, because someone will get their own back, and they won’t stop at Tiny. What’s your name?”
She was surprised into answering:
“Stella.”
“Stella,” echoed Rollison, “I’ve stopped reading the Riot Act, and I’m going to have a look round. You can come with me, or I can lock you in a cupboard or tie you up. Take your choice.”
Anger flared in her eyes.
“If you touch anything here, you’ll be crazy! I tell you you don’t know Tiny, he’s strong enough to break you into little pieces.”
Rollison chuckled.
“I can believe it, but I don’t think he will. Tiny is on the way out, Stella, although he probably doesn’t realise it yet. What’s it going to be?”
He didn’t try to rush her. There was plenty of time; even if Wallis came home unexpectedly early, there was time enough.
“You’d better lock me up,” she said at last. “All right, wise Stella,” said Rollison, and grinned. “Which cupboard would you like?” She was bewildered; then unexpectedly she laughed.
“I’ve often heard about you,” she said. “I’m beginning to understand what people mean. The larder’s the best place, there’s a ventilator, and it’s quite big.” She turned towards the kitchen, then stopped abruptly, so that he banged against her. She twisted round, taking his hand, and pressed against him. “Listen to me,” she said urgently. “You’re asking for the worst trouble you’ve ever had. You don’t know how strong Tiny is. When he knows you’ve put a hand on me, he’ll go raving mad. He’s so jealous he’s crazy.”
