The Toff and The Lady

“Now, I said,” said Rollison.

Pomeroy was as much afraid of Malloy as of him, and licked his lips but remained silent. Then Janice stirred; it should not be long before she was able to go for help.

Flo Malloy said: “I’ll tell you, these damned fools don’t know when they’re beaten. Listen, Rollison, I . . .”

She backed away when Malloy rose to his feet. The man looked as if he would defy Rollison and the gun, and actually stepped towards her. For the first time Rollison saw that the woman was frightened. The glare did what oaths could not, and she shrugged her shoulders and looked away from him, with her lips tightly set.

“Don’t change your mind,” said Rollison to her.

“It’s changed for her,” said Malloy, turning towards him with a sneer. “You think you’re clever, don’t you—well, you’ll learn different. If you knew everything we could tell you, you still wouldn’t know much. If you want to know the whole story, find the Countess, she’ll tell you.”

Rollison said: “What countess?”

“I thought you knew all about her,” said Malloy, “and you thought I was unconscious.” He looked at Pomeroy. “He’s all gas, he doesn’t know a thing.”

That was the moment when they heard a sound inside the house.

Malloy moved his head round quickly, and Pomeroy clapped his hands together as if in anguish. Rollison whispered:

“Quiet—all of you.”

Malloy opened his lips, and then caught sight of the gun and discretion triumphed. Flo stared at the door which still stood ajar. Pomeroy was uttering little noises in his throat, but they were not loud enough to be heard outside.

“Malloy, where are you?” There were heavy footsteps in the next room, a smothered oath, and then: “You’ve got to get out, the police are coming!”

A man came into the room.

Rollison stared incredulously at Marcus Shayle, who stood, quite as dumbfounded, on the threshold of the room.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

HUE AND CRY

MALLOY took full advantage of the opportunity that offered. Looking round as Shayle paused, he saw that Rollison’s gun was pointing towards the door, and that Rollison was momentarily off his guard. He put his hands beneath the edge of the table and tipped it up, and as Rollison realized the danger the table struck him on the thigh. As he staggered against the wall he remembered Malloy’s gun, and tried desperately to regain his balance.

“Snap into it!” Malloy shouted.

Pomeroy bounded from the chair, jumped past Rollison and sped into the passage, while Marcus Shayle turned back and disappeared. For an agonizing moment Malloy and his wife stared at each other; then Malloy moved towards the gun.

Flo bent down, snatched it up and flung it through the window. There was a crash of breaking glass. Loud footsteps sounded in the street, and then grew fainter. From inside the house Shayle shouted:

“Don’t waste time!”

“If you breathe a word,” Malloy said to his wife. “I won’t rest until I’ve killed you.” There was no passion in his voice, it was a simple statement of intention. Then he went out of the door into the next room.

The front room was curiously quiet. The woman stood against the wall with her hands at her face, and Janice stirred again but did not open her eyes. Rollison tried the door into the next room, but found it locked. He went into the street, but there was no sign of Pomeroy. As he turned back into the little house, the door of the shop opened and Percy appeared, his Adam’s apple working at lightning speed.

“S’matter?” he demanded, shrill-voiced.

“Most of the birds have flown,” said Rollison.

“Cor-lumme, you didn’t start anything!”

“Not enough,” said Rollison. “The police will be here any moment, Percy, I shouldn’t stay if you don’t want to be a witness.”

“What, me?” said Percy.

He went back into his shop, and Rollison looked along the street. Two cars were coming round the corner. He shrugged his shoulders resignedly as he went into the front room. Mrs. Malloy had not moved, but she had taken her hands from her face and was staring at Janice, whose eyes were open and who looked bewilderedly about her. She saw Rollison, and tried to get to her feet, but dropped back with a gasp, and said plaintively :

“Oh, my head is terrible:

“Just sit still.” said Rollison.

The cars pulled up outside, and he met Grice on the front doorstep. It was a harassed Grice, with two sergeants who looked at Rollison in surprise.

“Are they here?” Grice demanded.

“No,” said Rollison.

“So you frightened them away.”