Here Comes the Toff (15 page)

There was no answer, and he rang again. Satisfied that Kohn was out, he tried the next-door flat; there was no response from Irma, and into the Toff's eyes there sprang a gleam more of adventure than of hope.

The fire-escape at Arch Mansions was in full view of anyone who happened to be in the courtyard below, and of the tenants of nearby flats. By night that would not have been important, but Rollison could not wait until after dark. He had to take a chance, and the key to the effort was speed. The longer he waited outside, trying to force a lock or window, the more risk of being seen.

He kept on his glove when he reached Kohn's flat and, without ado, cracked his fist through a pane of glass in the door. The sharp tinkling noise seemed louder to him than it really was, but he did not wait to find whether anyone's attention had been aroused. He slipped his arm through the hole, found the catch, and slid it back. Not until the door was open, and he had gone through, did he look out – and he saw no one, heard nothing which suggested that he had raised an alarm.

He closed the door, and slipped into the main rooms.

The flat was empty, and Rollison wasted no time admiring the furniture. He did not know whether he had five minutes or fifty in which to work, and the more he did in the first five the better his chances would be. But even as he started turning out the drawers of the desk in the study, he felt that there was little likelihood of a discovery of importance. There had been no burglar alarm at the back door, which suggested that Kohn kept nothing here that mattered; obviously Irma would have warned him of a likely visit from the Toff, and if there had been papers of importance here they would have been secured under lock and key, and the flat protected by an alarm.

As far as he could find, there were no papers.

What was more puzzling, the safe – as fitted in all the flats, and just behind Kohn's desk – contained nothing but a few bundles of notes of small denominations, mostly ten shilling and one pound. Twenty-five five-pound notes reminded him of the pencilled letters on the plain envelope found at Minnie Sidey's flat, but that did not help. There were no tens.

He went through the two bedrooms and the dining-room and the lounge when he had finished with the study – and he found nothing at all which would help him. There were some indications of Kohn's exotic taste in literature, while he discovered a photograph album which was not pleasant. All it suggested was what the Toff already knew – Leopold Kohn was an unlikeable human being.

Half an hour passed quickly.

It was not the first time that Rollison had searched a flat, and when he had finished he was sure that there was nothing he had overlooked, always allowing for the possibility of hidden compartments in the desk, or even in the walls. He tapped the latter, but only cursorily. To have made a thorough investigation of them would have taken him a day; he did not think there was much chance that he would strike a hiding-place by accident.

There was nothing incriminating there.

He shrugged, and went into the bathroom to wash his hands. That done, he entered the study again, selected a cigarette from the box on Kohn's desk, and sat back in Kohn's swivel chair. It was comfortable, and the Toff had plenty to think about. But while he thought, and while he waited, he was on the
qui vive
, listening for the first sound of approach.

It came just after five o'clock.

Footsteps outside, and then a key in the lock. The murmur of voices, Irma's coming through the opening door before Kohn's.

Kohn answered: “You're much too nervous, Irma; you must try to take a firmer hold on yourself. Everything is going very satisfactorily very satisfactorily indeed.”

The Toff moved from the desk.

He had not smoked since the first cigarette and he hoped there was enough smoke in the room to be noticed. He slipped into a small single bedroom, half-closing the door, while Kohn and Irma entered the study.

Irma said: “I've told you before Leo. The fact that he's doing nothing doesn't mean that he's not satisfied with the situation. And he might be doing a lot you don't expect.”

Kohn laughed, not pleasantly.

“He visited the Sidey woman this morning, and we knew it the moment he entered by the front door. We put her away under his nose—and then he had luck again, and escaped at his flat. But he's lucky to be alive, and he's no fool—he'll realise his luck. I tell you we've clipped his claws, Irma, and I don't want any more talk about him.”

Irma said, very ominously: “What you want and what you'll get are different things, and it's time you understood it. Under-estimating Rollison is suicide.”

Kohn was silent for a moment, and when he went on his voice was bland: “My dear Irma, there isn't the slightest need for you to get worked up like this. I'll look after Rollison, and before we're through you will be able to take off the black. Now everything else is set.”

“Renway is …”

“We needn't go into it again,” said Kohn. “I've some figures to work out, Irma, and I'm going to be busy. I can leave Renway to you. I'm not a bit worried on that score. You'll forgive me if I don't see you to the door?”

The Toff's lips were curving, for it was good to hear Irma talked to in this way – although whether it would eventually prove good for Kohn was a different matter. It was the first intimation he had had that there was any trouble in the Irma-Leo friendship, and had it been earlier in the affair it might have been useful.

At the moment it was more obstructive than anything else.

He had hoped there would be talk that would prove serviceable, but Kohn was bent on working, and there was no object in the Toff keeping under cover any longer. He moved quietly, pushing the door open, and he saw Irma staring at Kohn with an expression in her eyes which suggested she was a long way from pleased.

“Be very careful,” she said. “You can go too far.”

“Now, Irma, be sensible …”

“Excellent advice, if I may say so,” murmured the Toff.

He stood against the door, although one moment ago it had seemed that there was no one there. In his hand was an automatic, and from his lips dangled an unlighted cigarette. In the moment of startled silence which followed he struck a match, and the first streamer of smoke left his lips. He regarded them through it. Kohn, with his rather sharp, ascetic face, the dark eyes which could be so malevolent, the slightly over-long hair, brushed in a style that might have been expected in a musician, the touches of grey, which lent him such a bogus dignity, at the temples; Irma, in black, with white frills at wrists and neck. Undoubtedly she looked beautiful.

And startled out of her life.

For a moment, too, Kohn had been put off his balance, but he recovered quickly, and the only sign of feeling was shown in the tightening of his lips. The Toff smiled as if he were delighted to see them.

“Tongue-tied?” he asked.

“What are you doing here?” demanded Kohn.

“A very ordinary question,” said the Toff amiably. “I look for some originality from you, Leo, and I'm disappointed to find you so banal. Ritzy's rather banal, too.”

Kohn said coldly: “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“No?” asked the Toff, arching his brows. “I'm surprised, really I am. I thought you and Ritzy were as close as that, and the stuff he put in the salt surely came from you. Where do you keep supplies, Leo? I haven't looked in the bathroom yet, but I doubt if I'll find them there.”

Kohn moved back to his desk, and sat down very slowly.

Irma put one hand to her waist, and ordered: “Rollison, get out of here.”

“In due course,” said the Toff. “It was a delight to hear you, Irma. How could I guess that you had so high an opinion of me? Earned by dint of much struggle, I may say, but all effort is worth while when it succeeds. I have been working in many ways that our Leo doesn't realise. He makes so many mistakes but he doesn't recognise them.”

“Bluff won't work,” said Kohn.

“An almost pathetic inability to express yourself effectively,” said the Toff, and he sounded regretful. “Of course one can't have everything. Control of gentlemen like Benson and Sidey -poor Sidey, and poor Minnie—of Wray and Ritzy, is bound to have its effect in the long urn.”

Irma relaxed, and sat down, crossing her knees and staring insolently at the Toff.

“Have you finished?”

“Nearly. What a pity you and Leo didn't have a shouting match when you were about it. I would,” said the Toff earnestly, “have refereed with strict impartiality. However, there it is. Where's Jim Wrightson?”

Kohn stiffened.

Irma leaned forward, tense again.

“And his fiancée?” went on the Toff. The lightness and the raillery had gone from his voice, he looked and sounded dangerous. “I don't mind Sidey being murdered, and I wasn't as sorry for Minnie as I might have been, but when it comes to a decent couple like that the line is drawn. Is that clear?”

Kohn's lips were dry.

“You're talking nonsense!”

“You think so? We'll see in a few hours, Kohn. I've collected—as they say in the best circles—all the evidence, and I'm going to use it in the very near future. I'm holding my hand because of Wrightson and the girl, but I'll take a chance with their safety very soon. You'd better release them. And,” he added, taking the cigarette from his lips and tossing it towards the fireplace, “you will be wise to act quickly.”

He stepped to the front door – and one moment he seemed to be in the room, the next he was outside and the door closed behind him.

He guessed what was happening in the room he had left, for he knew both Irma and Kohn were startled beyond words. He was right in his guess, even to the tense silence which lasted for fully thirty seconds.

Irma broke it.

“Well?” Her voice was hoarse. “Do you believe me now?”

“He was guessing!” snapped Kohn.

“Guessing about Wrightson and the girl? Don't be a fool; he knows we've got them.”

“And what the hell do you expect me to do? Go and let them out? Or send a letter of apology to Rollison? If he knew anything worth knowing he would have acted by now, and I'm not worried by any blasted bluff!
I'll
look after Rollison.”

“You've tried often enough.”

Kohn drew a sharp breath, and for a moment it looked as if he would strike her. But he stopped himself, and swung round to his chair, as Irma swept past him.

The Toff walked blithely, and more happily than for some days, back to Gresham Terrace. With Kohn and Irma at the quarrelling stage his own position was much stronger. And Kohn's attitude had been virtual proof of the fact that the other couple had been kidnapped.

“The good and the bad together,” mused the Toff as he let himself into his flat. “I—hello, Jolly, any luck?”

Jolly inclined his head gravely.

“A little, sir, I think.” He lit a match for the Toff's cigarette. “According to instructions I followed the man in the muffler. He went to the Turkish Baths in Aldgate, sir, and came out after fifteen minutes. At least,” said Jolly apologetically, “I think it was the same men, sir. I believe you would know him better as Leopold Kohn.”

 

 

Rollison stepped to the cocktail cabinet and helped himself to a whisky and soda. He took a stiff peg, and put the glass down slowly.

“Well, well,” he said, “we're seeing and hearing things. If we'd moved at the Blue Dog we would have had Kohn with Benson, probably Martin, and Charlie Wray. A mistake.”

“An unavoidable one, sir, if I may say so.”

“There isn't such a thing as an unavoidable mistake,” said the Toff sadly. “There have been far too many easily avoidable ones in this business already. Too many late nights, too many
affaires
, too much …”

“I think you are doing an injustice to Kohn, sir,” said Jolly. “He has proved far more effective than was anticipated. And if I dare venture a suggestion …”

“Go on.”

“His motto has been ‘attack, always attack'”.

“Well?”

“In this, he has taken a leaf out of your own book,” said Jolly gently. The Toff laughed, but without humour, as he took out another cigarette; the first he had stubbed out absently. Jolly stepped forward with another match.

“Attack, is it, Jolly? You couldn't suggest in what quarter, could you?”

“An army is as strong as its weakest front, sir.”

“Aren't you getting mixed up with a chain and its links? Benson, of course.”

“Of course, sir,” said Jolly.

“And what does your mind tell you about my relationship with the police, Jolly?”

“The usual method of approach, sir, would seem the best on this occasion. Presenting the police with the case on a plate, sir. Kohn is slippery, and he will have guarded against all likely emergencies. Only the unexpected will catch him sir, and you are the only one likely to find a means of getting past his defence.” Jolly was talking almost colloquially for him, and he appeared to be in considerable earnest. “If I dare say so, sir, you have waited too long already. Waiting is quite satisfactory in some cases, when you know what is coming and where to expect it. In this one, the complete mystery which surrounds the activities of Kohn and the woman Cardew make it imperative for you to weigh in, sir, with all you've got. I hope I have made myself clear, sir.”

“Abundantly so,” murmured the Toff dryly.

“I trust,” went on Jolly with some anxiety, “that I have not caused offence, sir. I am a little perturbed by the possibilities as I see them, and …”

The Toff put a hand against Jolly's cheek and pushed his face gently aside.

“You're worth a fortune, Jolly, at least I acknowledge it. However, I rather think I see the glimmering of a hunch.”

“Excellent, sir. There has been a shortage of them in this affair, if I may say so.”

“Jolly, I will take a bet with you.”

“Yes, sir? On what terms?”

“Evens. That Kohn isn't half as clever as we've been led to believe.”

“I would even give you odds, sir.”

“Evens, I said, in half-crowns.” The Toff had started for his bedroom, and he was changing rapidly into dinner clothes, for he considered them more useful for the evening's amusement'. He was on the alert, now, there was a sparkle in his eyes, an expression on his face that told Jolly that at last something had clicked, the thing for which the Toff had been waiting for. “In half-crowns,” repeated the Toff, and straggled into his trousers before Jolly could come forward. “Yes, Jolly, it's all been so involved, far more than we've realised. It took Lady Anthea to show it to me.”

“Indeed, sir?”

“Indeed, yes. Wrightson and his lady have not eloped; they have been kidnapped.”

Jolly looked startled; and perhaps for the first time in his life he let out an expletive, surprising to them both, mild though it was. The Toff stared at him for a moment, then laughed softly.

“So you see it, too, do you?”

“I think so, sir.”

“Right. You're to be a roughneck again for the night, Jolly, and you will keep me in sight as well as you can. Benson's the first man to attack, and after that we go where the spriit moves us, and where the evidence appears to lead. And listen, Jolly.”

“Sir?”

“Wrightson and that girl are in considerable danger.”

“I can see that, sir.”

“We don't want them to die.”

“Certainly not, sir.”

“Well, it's up to us,” said the Toff, and as he finished tying his bow tie he went on evenly: “You're sure about the mufflered man being Kohn?”

“Perfectly sure, sir.”

“Excellent,” said the Toff. “Excellent work, Jolly. We aren't going to lower our colours after all.”

Jolly agreed that it now appeared unlikely, and they left the flat within three minutes. They proved to their satisfaction that the flat was no longer being watched, which suggested that Kohn did not consider any immediate action from the Toff likely. The Toff went by taxi to Aldgate Pump, with Jolly in a following cab, and five minutes afterwards was in the tiny front parlour of a house opposite the Blue Dog. He could see the pub, and all its three entrances, clearly.

Throughout the East End there were places like that, which the Toff could use temporarily, either for money or because of what he had done to help the tenants in the past. His name was a watchword throughout that part of London, and many folk said that he was more loved than hated.

Jolly was not far away.

Less than twenty minutes after the Toff had taken up his position Benson arrived at the Blue Dog. He stayed only for ‘five minutes, and when he came out the Toff slipped through the open door of the house in which he was hiding, making no sound in his rubber-soled shoes as he followed the man who had killed Sidey.

Benson was passing the end of a cul-de-sac when the Toff's voice came to him: “Benson!”

Benson stopped in his tracks.

“Turn right, Benson,” said the Toff.

Benson obeyed. To the right was a narrow turning without a glim of light, the cul-de-sac, which the Toff knew well. The darkness was profound, and Benson felt fear surging within him. But his mind was working quickly, and on the heels of fear came hope. It was dark, and even the Toff could not see what he was doing.

Benson slid his right hand into his pocket and his fingers clutched the cold steel of a gun. He felt a return of confidence, and although now he could hear the soft footsteps of the Toff behind him, he did not feel so much afraid. This was the first time Rollison had tackled him alone.

Benson's lips twisted in a grin of sheer sadism, and he swung round on his heel.

His revolver snapped out. Two stabs of flame – and two bullets hit into a brick wall with lightning impact. In the momentary glare of the shots Benson could see nothing of the Toff, who should have been dead. Fear came again, more shattering this time, because he could have sworn the Toff to be within a couple of yards of him. He stared at nothing, and he shivered.

“I've killed men,” said the Toff very gently from behind him, “for much less than that, Benson. Drop your gun.”

Benson half-turned, knowing now that the Toff had slipped past him without a sound two or three seconds before the shooting. It was an example of the claims that he could be in two or three places at once, and that he moved faster and more silently than any man living.

Benson hesitated for a fraction of a second, and as he did so the Toff clipped him sharply on the side of the head.

“Move, I said.”

Benson moved, and his gun clattered down. The Toff laughed softly through the darkness, yet did not sound amused.

“Scared, little man? Nothing like as much as you will be, Benson. I suppose you aren't short of one hob-nailed boot?”

The words came so unexpectedly, and the darkness lent them so ominous a note, that Benson felt every implication. The pair that had been taken when he had killed Sidey – and the Toff knew where they were!

His face was grey as he cowered back against the wall.

“I don't know nothin'! I don't know wot you mean!”

“Then you've a poor memory,” said the Toff, “and you're going to learn a lot before I'm finished with you. You made a corpse of Sidey, Benson, and there's a law that demands a life for a life.”

It was a threat, but there were no histrionics. The words came so calmly that their frightening effect was multiplied a hundred times.

“I didn't!” Benson half screamed.

“Keep your voice low,” snapped the Toff, and his voice was harsh as he poked a gun in Benson's ribs. Then it dropped to a note that could almost be called a caress, and was the more frightening. “You killed Sidey, Benson, and/saw you. Yes, in spite of the fog. And I took your boots as a souvenir. The police would like them, Benson.”

Benson was now shivering as with cold. He felt more afraid than he had ever been in his life, and he seemed to see death yawning in front of him. He seemed to see the face of Kohn, whom he knew as ‘Mr. Brown', Irma Cardew, Ritzy, and, above all, Minnie and Alf Sidey. Sidey …”

He groaned.

“I've heard men moan like that when they've been walking to the long drop,” said the Toff. “But your way out won't be so quick, Benson. Before you go, you're going to talk. Why did you kill Sidey?”

Benson's mouth was working and his eyes were feverish.

“I didn't! I swear …”

The Toff struck him. It was a powerful blow, and it took him on the side of the jaw and sent him staggering. He hit the cobbles, but the Toff pulled him up by his coat collar, and then hit him again.

“A taste,” he said evenly, “of what will happen to you if you don't come across. I saw you kill Sidey, and I want to know why.”

“I—I had to,” gasped Benson.

He could not see the gleam that came into the Toff's eyes after that part-admission. The Toff knew that the man was scared for his life, and was going to come across well. The question was – how much did he know?

“The Cardew woman's in this?” Rollison's tone made the words into a question.

Benson's mouth stayed open for a fraction of a second, and then he muttered:

“Y—yes.”

“It's as well you admitted it. Now listen, Benson. You've half a chance, a bare half-chance, of saving your neck, if you answer questions. Where do you get your orders from?”

“The Blue Dog.” Benson was trembling.

“Where else?”

“There ain't nowheres else, I swear …”

“Keep to the point. You get orders from Charlie Wray, and others I don't know. Who are the others?”

“There ain't …” began Benson.

“You know,” said the Toff in his gentlest voice, “I'm sorry to have to do this, Benson, but you've asked for it.”

He struck the man again. It gave him no satisfaction, for Benson was incapable of putting up a fight; it was simply the need for forcing information, and it had to be done without thinking of niceties. In three minutes Benson was a helpless hulk of a man, and the Toff was holding him to his feet by his coat lapels.

“Who else?”

“There's—Ritzy,” gasped Benson.

“And who's Ritzy?”

“I—I don't know. For Gawd's sake, believe me, mister. I don't know his uvver name! 'E lives at 'Ighgate …”

“What part of Highgate?” asked the Toff, and his grip eased a Utile.

“Abbot Road, Number 28. I—I sees the Boss there.”

“You do, do you?” said the Toff, satisfied that he would have no more trouble from Benson now. “Who is the Boss?”

“'E calls hisself Brown. I don't know …”

“I should call you,” said the Toff almost amiably, “the most unobservant man of my acquaintance, Benson, but you can stop talking now. We're going for a little journey—no, not to the station yet, but I'm not promising anything. Get going.”

While in his mind was thought of ‘Brown' and 28, Abbot Road.

 

The Toff took Benson to the small house nearby, where he knew the man would be safe until he was wanted again. Benson was silent most of the way, although he came across with the information that ‘Mr. Brown' wore smoked glasses and was usually well muffled up.

This was the evidence to connect Kohn with the murder of Sidey, the evidence which the Toff had been wanting so badly.

Jolly consulted him after Benson was safely lodged.

“We're doing well,” said the Toff, “and certainly as well as can be expected. I wasn't followed?”

“No, sir.”

“No sign of anyone else at the Blue Dog?”

“No one of interest, sir. Wray is behind the bar.”

“Stay and watch the place,” said Rollison, “and follow Wray or Martin, or better still our muffled man if he comes along.”

“Very good, sir.” Jolly did not raise objections, and the Toff thought over his own handling of Benson. Not nice, and certainly not the type of persuasion that McNab would have approved. But then, McNab would never have obtained that vital information. Benson was scared of the law, but he would have kept a tight mouth, relying on ‘Mr. Brown' to pay for his defence and provide him with an alibi. And Brown would have done so, of course, for his own sake.

The Toff was smiling.

He had the Frazer-Nash near Aldgate Pump, and very soon he hoped to be interviewing Ritzy at Highgate. Ritzy would have a bigger shock than Benson, but it was possible that he would also have a greater power of resistance. The Toff did not mind that. There were many degrees in his methods of persuasion, and he had by no means reached the limit of them.

After reaching the Frazer-Nash he found a telephone kiosk and spoke to a lesser official at Scotland Yard, leaving a message for McNab. That would serve two purposes and please the Scotsman.

He located Abbott Road without trouble.

He made no attempt to hide himself, but rang the bell with complete assurance, after parking his car a hundred yards along the street. His summons was answered promptly, for some twenty seconds later, after the ringing had echoed through the house, he found himself looking into the absurdly handsome face of the man called Ritzy.