The Toff and The Lady

“And you’re very fair,” said Rollison, giving him another two pounds. “If you find out where the Morris is garaged, come back and report and you can also live well to-morrow!”

“Don’t forget I ain’t making no promises,” warned the driver, “I’ll do me best.” He nodded and turned to his driving cabin, while Rollison strolled across the pavement and up the steps leading to the front door. The driver of the little car was sitting at the wheel reading a newspaper; he was nearly thirty yards away.

As Rollison put his key to the lock, the door opened and Jolly appeared.

“I’m very glad to see you, sir.” He stepped aside and then closed the door softly. Rollison stood watching him curiously. “Can we have a word together before you see Miss Barrington-Ley?” Taking assent for granted, he walked to the door of the small spare room. Rollison followed.

“We’re being very conspiratorial, aren’t we?”

“I think you will agree with the need for discretion, sir,” said Jolly, firmly closing the door. “Miss Barrington-Ley is in a state of some agitation, and although I have done my best to find out the cause for it, I have failed. However, I did manage to get some indication. I took the morning newspapers in to her, with The Record uppermost and folded so that she could not avoid seeing the photograph, and she showed some alarm.”

“Is alarm the word?”

“If you had been with me, I am sure you would have said so,” declared Jolly. “There was, also, some suggestion of distaste. I thought it wise that you should know before seeing her, sir.”

Yes,” said Rollison. “Thanks.”

“Excuse me,” said Jolly.

He went out ahead of Rollison, stepped to the front door and opened it, and then said in tones of delight:

“Good-morning sir!” He glanced at Rollison. “Miss Barrington-Ley has been waiting for some time.”

By that time Rollison had joined Jolly and the door of the living-room had opened.

Gwendoline Barrington-Ley stood in the doorway. She was taller than either her father or her mother, with an attractive figure not shown to advantage by a mannish tweed suit. Woollen stockings made her legs took sturdy. She wore a Tyrolean hat with a blue feather in the band, and on Gwendoline a Tyrolean hat looked slightly raffish.

“Hallo, Gwen!” said Rollison, stepping towards her with outstretched hand.

“Have you seen my mother to-day?” demanded Gwendoline.

“Why, no,” said Rollison.

“Thank heavens for that!” She took his hand and drew him into the room-. Her features were good, and with the right make-up she would have been attractive, but she scorned rouge and lip-stick. There was too much powder on the side of her nose, and it was nearly white—she needed a deeper shade to match her olive skin. Her grey eyes were very clear.

“Now what is all this?” demanded Rollison.

“Shut the door, please,” said Gwendoline, and would not go on until he had done so. Then she burst out: “It’s that dreadful woman!”

“There are so many,” murmured Rollison.

“You know what I mean. The woman who says she has lost her memory: Lost her memory!” Her voice was biting with contempt. “Rolly, I hate coming to you like this, I hate asking anyone to put themselves out, and if this were for my sake only I wouldn’t dream of it. But—well, there’s mother and father.”

“Oughtn’t we to start at the beginning?” asked Rollison. “And also be comfortable?” He led her to a chair and offered her cigarettes. She drew on one deeply, and when he was sitting in an easy chair opposite her, she began to talk in a low-pitched voice, quite determined that no one outside those four walls should hear.

“I don’t know when it really began. I do know that this woman is an impostor—lost memory indeed! she knows who she is as well as I know who I am. It’s a trick to outwit father, and she will do anything she can to make a fool of him, of that I’m quite sure. She’ll be absolutely ruthless, too, she won’t mind what trouble she causes between”

Gwendoline broke off, and bit her lip.

“This is in the strictest confidence,” murmured Rollison.

“Yes, I know, but—well, all right! Between Hilda and David.” She seemed to find it easier when she used the Christian names of her father and step-mother, and Rollison needed no more telling that she looked on them both as her natural parents. “I was there when she came in—I nearly had a fit! If you had seen David’s face you would know what I mean.”

“So he knows her,” said Rollison.

“Oh yes, although he pretends that he doesn’t. I often go to the London office, you see, and I was there when she came to see him, about ten days ago. Last night she looked like a ghost—on the previous occasion she looked like a Jezebel!”

“Strong sentiment,” murmured Rollison.

“Nothing can be too strong for her!”

“As I don’t know the lady, I can’t be judge,” said Rollison.

“You’ll have to take my word for it,” said Gwendoline. “I am quite sure that there is nothing that woman won’t do if she sets her mind to it. I can only tell you that she has seen my father before, and that when she left his office he looked like a ghost. I think she is blackmailing him, but I can’t be sure. I know that he has behaved most oddly since that time. Normally you can set your clock by him—oh, he’s always in a hurry but he’s never late for an appointment, and if he says he will be home by seven or any particular time, you