The Toff In Town

bluff is the stronger.”

“I really don’t care what happens to Snub,” said Pauline. “Well, I must fly. I——”

She raised her hand to Max.

He took a step nearer the telephone, and let out an eerie cry, as if he were being tortured, and the cry broke off with a strangled gasp.

Pauline put the receiver back to her ear.

“Poor Snub,” she said. “It’s such a shame, and it’s your fault really.”

Then she rang off.

Rollison did not enjoy the rest of that day.

There was no need to ask himself whether Pauline’s nerve would hold out; it would. He did not seriously doubt that she would, if she thought it necessary, kill Snub.

Farran, Rollison’s friend who had friends in the Meritor Motion Picture Company, called in the early evening. He was a tall, spare man with a beak of a nose and a bushy moustache. He had been able to discover little new about Pauline; she was being groomed for stardom and the general belief was that she would be a success. Nevertheless, she hadn’t many girl friends, and that, according to the informative Farran, was not solely due to the jealousy which almost invariably existed between starlet and starlet; Pauline had shown an utter ruthlessness in the film world, trampling over any and everybody who got in her way.

“She looks as soft-hearted as they come, but she’s a deceptive piece,” said Farran.

“Not your type, Roily. I’m surprised at you.”

“I always like to try my improving influence,” Rollison said dryly. “What about this fellow she goes about with?”

“Money,” said the friend, and sniffed.

“Not in the picture business?”

“Well, yes, in a way. Documentaries. Done some good stuff in India and the Far West, I believe. Just the man for Meritor Films:

“Why?” asked Rollison, with quickening interest.

“Well, Meritor are documentary specialists. Done a few comedies but no feature films. Then Merino arrives with money— he used to be a jewel merchant—and Pauline gets a contract for the lead in Meritor’s first feature. Curious fact, he took a flat above hers.”

“Very interesting,” said Rollison. “Any little love-nest in the country?”

Farran raised his eyebrows.

“I wish I knew just why you’re so interested, Roily, she isn’t your type. No, as far as I could find out, no one’s ever heard of a country cottage. Town-lover and all that. She’s been at the same flat for a long time, it was hers before Merino arrived. I can’t get a whisper, apart from that. Sorry.”

“Thanks for trying,” Rollison said warmly.

“My dear chap. Pleasure! I say,” went on Farran, “If you want a spot of strong-arm help I’m around and about all the time.” He paused, hopefully. “No? Oh well, I suppose I ought to know better than to ask. Sure there’s nothing else I can do?”

Rollison assured him that there was not, and Farran twirled his moustache and left.

“That is very interesting news, isn’t it?” asked Jolly, who must have been very near the door.

“I almost think we’re getting somewhere,” said Rollison softly. “Allen was rescued by a film party sent out by the Meritor Company. Where are the studios—any idea?”

“As a matter of fact, sir, yes. They are near Epping Forest. But our first charge is the B.B.C.”

“Oh yes, but the more irons in the fire the better. We could ask——”

At that moment the front door bell rang, to herald Grice. He was spruce and brown and obviously prepared to be aggressive, for there was suppressed violence in his tone when he spoke to Jolly. He was astonished when Rollison sat him in a chair and proceeded to confess, without prompting, that he had persuaded Allen to “hide” until to-morrow night. And:

“One or two of the other characters have taken a run-out powder, William! You don’t happen to know how good the Epping police are, do you?”

“Very good. Why?” asked Grice, somewhat dazedly.

Rollison leaned forward in conspiratorial fashion, and tapped his knee.

“Could you tip them off to keep their eyes open for Pauline Dexter, who works at the Meritor Studio? One day she hopes to be an actress. Blonde, beautiful, brazen and bad boys’ comforter, she may be somewhere near the studio with one or two extras or small-part players or technicians. I don’t know anything much against the lady,” he added, “but if she’s seen around, and the Epping bobbies tell you, and you happen to let me know, I think it would show some results. On the other hand, if she or her entourage knew she was being watched they’d all run out on us. Savvy?”

“I savvy,” said Grice dryly. “So, not satisfied with working independently, you now want us to help you.”

“Confound it,” complained Rollison, “when I use Ebbutt’s bruisers you complain; now when I come clean, you