The Toff In Town

that the police have been consulted. If they show up, you won’t see Higginbottom again.”

He had so shaken her composure that she came out with a direct threat!

“No police—I always prefer working without them,” said Rollison firmly. “If I were to tell them about you, my pet, I wouldn’t be able to wring your neck myself. I’m looking forward to doing that later, but I’ll do nothing violent at Blott’s:

Her voice lost all trace of its silvery note, became coarse, ugly.

“I’ve warned you what will happen if Allen doesn’t alter that script.”

She was badly shaken, she had been living on her nerves, a tiny crack in her armour had quickly grown larger, perhaps large enough to destroy her defences.

“But he isn’t even going to broadcast,” he said gently.

“What!”

“I’ve been thinking about it, and I’ve just decided that it will be much better for him to stay at home to-morrow night,” Rollison said. “Pity in some ways; I think he would sound well over the air, don’t you? But it just won’t do, we can’t use the B.B.C. for such dark deeds as yours. And you’ve slipped away into the country, after giving him a dose of morphia, so I’ll give him another dose and take him away for a day or two. You’ve got Snub, I’ve got Bob Allen, and that about makes us equal. Good-bye, my pet!”

“Rollison!”

“What, are you still there?” asked Rollison, sweetly.

“Rollison, if you stop Allen from broadcasting, you——”

“Sorry, my love, but there’s no drawing back. Good-bye!”

“Rollison!”

He rang off.

Jolly stared at him with glowing eyes.

“And that was a nice instalment of reward,” said Rollison. “Jolly, telephone Ebbutt and tell him that I want to hide Allen away for a day or two. He must be able to collect him at short notice. I’ll go and get Allen, and take him straight to the gymnasium. “Right?”

“Very good, sir!”

Rollison hurried across the hall and downstairs, gladly enduring his aches and pains. The morning was much brighter, almost another day. He was angry with himself for not having thought of this before; it was so obviously the right thing, the only thing. Pauline desperately wanted Allen to broadcast. If anything could lure her out of hiding, making him vanish would do it.

He turned right, towards the garage, but before he had gone two steps a cheerful Cockney voice sounded.

“Want me s’morning?” demanded Perky Lowe.

Rollison swung round.

“You’re just the man,” he said. “Byngham Court Mansions, in a hurry!”

He was hardly inside the cab before it started off. He watched the passing traffic and the passing people with a benevolent eye, and now and again burst into a chuckle. He pondered over the new move, trying to see any way in which it would work to his disadvantage and perhaps put Snub in more danger; none presented itself. From the beginning, Merino and Pauline had been determined to make Allen do exactly what they wanted, and—he was necessary to their plot, necessary because of the proposed broadcast. Spiriting Allen away was the perfect answer to the threat to Snub.

A plain-clothes detective was in the street near Byngham Court Mansions, and undoubtedly he noticed who climbed out of the taxi which Perky pulled up close to the front door. Rollison hurried upstairs. When he reached the top, his head began to ache more painfully, but he was still in high feather. Sam was on the landing, and greeted him cheerfully.

Rollison rang the bell, and this time Barbara was no longer answering it. She looked surprised to see him, and her eyes were swollen, as if she had been crying.

“Well, how’s the invalid?” asked Rollison cheerfully.

“He’s—a bit better.”

“He’s still here?”

“Yes—yes, of course,” said Barbara. “He’s getting up now.”

“And in a bad mood, is he?” asked Rollison gently. “I shouldn’t be too worried this morning. Tempers get frayed after you’ve been drugged.”

“He seems to have gone right back,” said Barbara. “There are moments when I almost——”

She broke off abruptly.

Rollison said: “What was this morning’s trouble about? Any particular thing?”

“Well, yes—but that was the excuse, not the reason,” said Barbara. “He’s lost a piece of paper, on which there were some notes. I destroyed them by accident, and—oh, but it doesn’t matter !”

She turned away.

“Don’t let it get you down,” Rollison said quickly. “I’ve an idea which will help, I think, and—we’ll see it all through.”