“This is a nice room,” stated Loman. “But.”
“It won’t be for ever,” Rollison said.
“It can’t be for long, Richard. And there’s another thing.”
“What’s that?”
“When I’m in trouble I like to do my own protecting.”
“Yes,” Rollison said levelly. “Yes, I am sure you do. However, you must stay here the rest of the day and tonight, at least. I may be able to find out what’s really behind all this if I have a little time. At seven o’clock we shall have company —” He called across to Jolly, who was clearing the table. “Did I tell you that Miss Brown will be here for dinner, Jolly?”
“No, sir,” Jolly replied, and straightened up with a crumb tray in one hand, crumb brush in the other. “Then I should go and do a little shopping.”
“Hey!” exclaimed Loman, in sudden excitement. “What’s the matter?” demanded Rollison.
“I can go out with Mr. Jolly! He can look after me.” A glint of merriment showed in the tall man’s eyes.
“Tommy,” Rollison said very softly, “I don’t think you understand. The evidence is that you are in grave danger. Until we know what kind of danger you need to take extreme precautions. We know that the people involved are prepared to throw an explosive grenade, and if they’ll do it once they might again. If you want to go out and risk your neck, I shan’t stop you. But I won’t risk Jolly’s. I’m not yet sure it’s worth it.”
Very slowly and deliberately, Tommy Loman backed away and at the same time raised his hands.
“I can say one thing about you,” he said in a husky voice. “You speak straight and you act fast. You want me to stay here that bad?”
“I think you would be wiser to stay here,” Rollison answered.
“Okay, then I’ll stay,” promised Loman, reluctantly. “If I change my mind I’ll tell you. Are you going to have the place surrounded?” The amused glint appeared in his eyes again.
“Yes,” answered Rollison.
“Jehosophat!” exclaimed Loman. “You mean it!”
“I mean it,” confirmed Rollison, turning to Jolly. “Call Bill Ebbutt and ask for some of his chaps, Jolly, then tell Mr. Grice what I’ve done and why — because I think Mr. Loman’s life is in acute danger.”
“And isn’t
9
ROLLISON DID NOT REPLY but looked at Thomas G. Loman, who actually backed a pace, as if Jolly had delivered him a physical blow. His face showed a whole gamut of expressions, from shock to unbelief; until at last he turned to Rollison and spoke with unmistakable feeling.
“And I said that
“When one is dealing with life and death, as Mr. Rollison and I have been for many years, one has to talk very straight indeed,” said Jolly.
“Sure,” conceded Loman. “You bet!” He flashed his most attractive grin. “I’ll be good,” he promised. “But if you two go out and leave me alone I don’t promise not to prowl around.”
“Prowl wherever you like,” Rollison said. “Are you going to look for anything in particular?”
“All I can find out about you and Mr. Jolly.”
“In the cupboards beneath the Trophy Wall you will find press cuttings books and case histories. Help your- self.” Rollison pointed to three cupboards with sliding doors beneath a wide ledge about the height of his desk on the wall, then turned to Jolly. “Show Mr. Loman our safety measures, won’t you?” He smiled at Loman and then turned and walked briskly out of the room.
He went to his bedroom and knelt down beside a big wardrobe, opened the doors and then a drawer at the bottom, pressed a knot in the wood at one side and allowed a false bottom to slide back smoothly and with little sound.
Hidden here were weapons in great variety.
He selected a small pistol not unlike the one which Pamela Brown had in her bag, and four cigarettes which he placed carefully into his gold cigarette case. Each cigarette was in fact a tiny blow-pipe and inside it not a dart but a phial of tear gas; that little invention, thought up over twenty years ago, had saved his life times out of number. He picked up a narrow, stiletto dagger clipped into an arm band. This would fit comfortably below the elbow, from where he could work it down towards his hand by flexing his muscles. He put this back again, saying: “Not this jaunt,” and left the flat by the other passage, hearing Jolly talking to Tommy G. He glanced up at the periscope mirror and satisfied himself no one was on the staircase or the landing, then went out.
Just outside the street door stood one of Grice’s men, another stood on the far side of the street, making no secret of their presence, and returning Rollison’s amiable nod. Police protection, Rollison thought half-bleak, half- amused. He saw a third man who did not look like a policeman, farther along the street.
On the instant, he was prepared for trouble.
The man was of medium height, chubby rather than fat, and he wore a pale coloured suit, of a peculiar shade of blue grey. That, and his hat, betrayed him as an American; or at least that he had bought these clothes in America. The man took a step from a wall in front of one of the houses, and Rollison’s alarm signals faded; at least the other was not attempting to hide himself.
