The Toff In Town

“That’s dangerous, ducky, in my present sentimental mood! But let’s go out. Let’s——”

The telephone bell rang again.

His lips clamped together and he glanced towards the hall.

The first “ting” had brought everything back vividly, and Barbara had come to hate the telephone. Neither of them got up, and the bell kept ringing. Then they started to move together, and Barbara reached her feet first. But Allen said:

“No, I’ll go.”

He limped into the hall.

He had broken his leg when he had crashed on the flight which had nearly ended his life, and the natives who had rescued him had set the bone badly. There was some talk of having it broken and re-set, but he hadn’t shown much interest in that or in anything else, except—fear and the mellow-voiced man.

“Allen speaking,” he said harshly. There was an agonising pause; she did not move, felt numbed and stiff. Then he went on in a completely different voice in which there was a throb of excitement. “You want me to what?”

Barbara jumped up and rushed into the hall. He looked round at her, obviously excited, and mouthed the word: “Quiet.” She waited, close by his side, and he kept saying: “Yes, if you like,” over and over again. Then at last he said decidedly: “No, not to-morrow, I’m engaged all day to-morrow. I could manage this afternoon, if that’s any good . . . Right-ho! Where is it? . . . Aeolian Hall, New Bond Street, yes, I’ve got that, and I ask for . . . Mr Hedley . . . Right, thanks, good-bye!”

He rang off, and stared at Barbara with his eyes glistening.

“Well, what do you make of that,” he demanded.

“Bob, what is it?”

“Fame in a night!” cried Allen. “A three minutes” wonder! That was the B.B.C.! A man named Hedley thinks I can fill up a gap in the In Town To-night show. Saturday,” he added. “He wants to see me beforehand. I wouldn’t go to-morrow because you and I are having a day in the country.”

“Bob, it’s glorious!”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” he said, more calmly. “I shall be as nervous as Old Harry. Still——” A shadow entered his eyes as he went on: “Saturday will be quite a day, won’t it?”

CHAPTER TWO

FRIGHT

THE little chiming clock in the sitting-room struck four. Barbara heard it as she sat in the bedroom, putting on lipstick. “I must hurry,” she thought, but she didn’t hurry; she finished with the lipstick and looked at her face, carefree for the first time for weeks. She looked better, too; the little furrow between her eyes, which had become almost permanent, had gone. And this bright green suited her; it was a smart suit, and the wide-brimmed hat had gone on just right. She ought to have a set, but her hair wasn’t too bad. She tucked in a few light brown strands, and then suddenly laughed aloud.

Everything would be all right!

Anxiety hadn’t quite gone; Bob had been too emphatic about the police, as if some crime were heavy on his conscience, but he had been transformed, almost normal, since the call from the B.B.C. Bob to broadcast! Would she be able to go with him? Or would it be better to hear him on their own radio? She glanced at it, where it stood on the bedside table, then stepped across the room and picked up the Radio Times. She turned over the pages to Saturday and read:

6.15 p.m. In Town To-night.

400 Edition.

Once again we stop the mighty roar of London’s traffic and bring to you some of the interesting people who are in town to-night.

 

She put the paper down, and saw a small slip of paper on the floor. It was yellow with age, and when she picked it up, she saw some shorthand notes on it. She couldn’t make out the meaning, but it was obviously too old to matter. She screwed it up and tossed it into the waste-paper basket, then went across and glanced at herself in the mirror again, satisfied that she looked her best

It had been impossible to judge how long Bob would be, so they had arranged to meet outside the Aeolian Hall at half-past four. She had only twenty minutes to get there from St. John’s Wood; she shouldn’t have had a bath. She picked up her hand-bag and gloves, and stepped into the hall.

The front door bell rang.

“Oh, bother!” she exclaimed.

Even if the caller only delayed her for a few minutes, she could now no longer hope to be in New Bond Street at half-past four. She hurried to the door and opened it briskly. Then looked in surprise at two men—one little more than a boy. They were dressed in blue overalls, and one of them carried a rope-bag.

“Good-afternoon,” said Barbara.

“Afternoon. Miss. Come about the gas.”

“Gas?” echoed Barbara. “I haven’t sent——”

Then a great fear welled up in her, for the bigger of the two lunged forward. He had something in his hands —a large sponge. While that stab of fear was making her heart swell, and pain shot across her breast, he thrust the sponge into her face. She caught a whiff of a penetrating smell which took her breath away. Her hands were