The Toff and the Kidnapped Child (3 page)

“No, miss, there wasn't one,” the man answered definitely.

“Oh, but one of the girls went to the platform to meet her father!”

“Surprise me if she did,” the man replied. “I was standing in for the ticket collector, and saw everyone on the platform and everyone off. There wasn't one of the College girls here at all, miss. Sure she didn't go to the bus station?”

Miss Abbott clutched at this opportunity, and said as if laughing at herself: “Oh, yes, that must be it. Thank you very much for your trouble,” and rang off. For a moment she stood quite still, a hand on the telephone, and then she turned away and hurried out of the room, into the front garden and across the lawn to a smaller house, where the headmistress and others of the staff lived quite close to the road. The extensive grounds of Hapley lay in front of the main school building. These century-old buildings were massive and grey in the clear, strangely vivid evening light. There was a warm wind, rustling the leaves of beech, sycamore and plane tree. Two junior members of the staff were coming from the sports field, swinging racquets, and a smooth-haired terrier went haring across the lawn in front of her. She reached the smaller house, and hurried to the headmistress's sitting-room, and went in. Miss Ellerby, younger by ten years, a rather heavily built and not very attractive woman, was watching television; she looked round almost with annoyance.

“Why must—” she began, and then stopped short, and went on: “Maude, what is it?”

Miss Abbott told her . . .

 

After her visit to Rollison, Mrs Kane went into the small Knightsbridge hotel where she had booked for the night, and was stepping towards the little self-operated lift when the elderly man at the desk called: “Oh, Mrs Kane, there's a message for you. Will you please ring Hapley 97?”

“Hapley—” Caroline's mother began, and immediately her thoughts flashed to the school, to the fact that this could only be about Caroline. Partly because she was already so worried, she felt a spasm of real alarm. If Caroline were ill – her thoughts darted to polio; to an accident; to appendicitis. She hurried to the lift. “Get the number for me, Jim, will you?” she asked, and thought she heard the bell ringing in her room when she reached the door; but it was in an adjoining room. She did not take off her hat but stripped off her gloves and stared at the window and then at the telephone, every thought of Rollison and his effect on her driven away by these tidings of obvious alarm. “Oh, for heaven's sake!” she began, and then the bell rang, and she picked up the receiver.

 

 

Rollison was getting out of his chair to go to bed when his telephone rang, at a minute or two before midnight. He stepped to his desk quickly, not wanting the bell to disturb Jolly, who did not look at all well; unless he was greatly improved in the morning, he must see a doctor. Rollison thought of Eve Kane, but did not expect this to be her; she hadn't been gone much more than half an hour, after she had told him all – well, most – of her unhappy story. Since she had left, he had been thinking more about her than the story; she was a woman who left a deep impression.

“Richard Rollison speaking.”

“Mr Rollison—” Eve Kane said, and then paused, as if she had caught her breath. Her voice was quite unmistakable; so was her agitation. “I'm sorry to worry you again, especially so late, but I've just heard that Caroline has—” There was another pause. Then a single word seemed to be wrung out of her: “Disappeared.”

She had talked a great deal about Caroline, and Hapley — a very expensive and fashionable school which catered especially for girls whose parents were often out of the country, many of them living abroad; and which also catered for girls from the Continent, here to put polish on to their English, and to learn English customs. Mrs Kane had enthused on how happy Caroline was at this school, how well she was doing, how desperately anxious her mother was to conceal the estrangement from her.

Rollison said: “Tell me exactly what happened,” but before he started, changed his mind. “You'd better tell me on the way to the school, that'll save time.”

“You'll come?”

“Of course,” Rollison said. “I think you'd better get here as soon as you can, and we'll drive down in my car.”

“Thank you,” Eve Kane said, chokily. “I can't—”

“Don't try,” Rollison said. “Just hurry.” He put down the receiver, and stood by it for a moment, trying to understand his own emotions; for his heart was beating faster than usual, and that was not because the case was exciting itself, nor because he was really worried about a schoolgirl he had never seen. He glanced at the Trophy Wall, caught a glimpse of his reflection in a small mirror which had once been used by a murderer, now dead, and went towards his bedroom. There was a light under Jolly's door. He opened this, and saw Jolly sitting up in bed, pale, and with dark patches under his eyes. By Jolly's side was a telephone, and undoubtedly he had listened in. “Did you hear that?” Rollison inquired.

“Yes, sir.”

“I don't know when I'll be back,” Rollison said, “but I want you to get one of Bill Ebbutt's men to stand in for you, and you must see Dr Welling first thing in the morning.”

“I will, sir.”

“Fine,” said Rollison. “Now sit back, and try to sleep.”

“The usual overnight case is packed, sir, except for the toilet bag.”

“Fine,” Rollison said again. “Good night.”

“Good night, sir. And good luck.”

Rollison stepped into his own room, found the overnight case with slippers, a change of shoes, pyjamas, a clean shirt, everything he might need in an emergency. He went into the bathroom and collected the oddments he wanted, and then went out. There was a dim yellow light on the landing above the stone steps, which cast grey shadows. He hurried down. The house was silent, and when he stepped into Gresham Terrace, that was also silent but better lit, and there were lights at some of the windows. He turned right, and hurried towards the mews where he kept his car. As he turned the corner, a policeman approached, recognised him, and spoke as if it were a happy chance to meet him.

“Hallo, Mr Rollison. Off out?”

“For a ride in the country,” Rollison said. “A friend of mine is ill.”

“I'm sorry about that, sir.”

“Sure you are,” said Rollison. “Good night.” He went on, hurrying, feeling a great sense of urgency. The mews was in darkness, and he shone a pencil torch on the sliding doors of his garage, then switched on the light. A pearl-grey Rolls-Bentley Continental gleamed beneath it. Little more than five minutes after leaving the flat, he was parked outside, watching his wing mirror, sure that Eve Kane would not be long. Soon, a car turned the corner; a Sunbeam Alpine. It drew up behind the Rolls-Bentley and Rollison, already getting out, reached it before the door opened. He opened it and helped Eve out. The light showed how bright her eyes were, as if they were aglint with fear. He had met her for the first time three hours ago, but there was no sense of strangeness; he pressed her arm, to try to give some reassurance.

“We'll be there in less than two hours,” he said, and took her to his car. “Did you bring a case?”

“No.”

“They'll be able to fix you up at the school,” he said. Soon he was sitting beside her, and the engine was turning and the car sliding towards the end of the street, Piccadilly, and the north-west. “I'll go out Edgware Road way, and then work across the suburbs,” he said. “I know the road.” They swung into Piccadilly smoothly, and in spite of the urgency kept down to thirty-five miles an hour. There was little traffic, and only here and there a policeman, but the Circus was ablaze with light which reflected on Eve's pale face and put lurid colours into her eyes. “What time did it happen?”

“Apparently, about ten o'clock,” she answered, and told him exactly what the headmistress of the school had told her, so that he knew as many details as she. In a hopeless kind of voice, she went on: “I can hardly believe this of Ralph. I know that may sound absurd, but I can't.”

“Why?”

“She idolised him, but—” There was a moment's pause. “Although he was fond of her, I can't believe that he would want to be responsible for her. It doesn't seem to make sense.”

“I see,” said Rollison.

He was beginning to wonder what kind of shadow was really looming over this woman. She had jumped to the obvious and probably the right conclusion, and yet she rebelled against it because of what she knew of the character of her husband; and from what she had told Rollison, she was remarkably objective about him. On the other hand, she would not want to believe that her husband was going to leave her for another woman, and wanted to have the child with him.

Once they were in the Edgware Road, he put on speed whenever he could. The car made little more than a humming sound, and Eve sat in silence, as if she could not bring herself to talk about the fresh disaster; probably because she felt that she had already said everything that needed saying.

Suddenly Rollison said: “Gould Caroline have run away?”

“I don't think it would even enter her head.”

“If your husband hasn't taken her with him, have you any idea what might have happened?” He meant: ‘Have you any other, deeper cause for fear?'

“No,” she answered. “I've been trying to imagine anyone who might want to harm me, or Ralph, or Caroline. I can't think of anyone. Except—”

Rollison did not prompt her. “There was a girl who—who threatened him.”

“Because he'd let her down?”

“Yes.”

“How do you know?”

“She telephoned the house two or three times, and I had to talk to Ralph about it.”

“What did he say?”

“He—laughed.”

“How long ago was this?”

“About six months,” Eve said, and added almost wearily: “I thought what a bad start it was to the New Year. Caroline was in Switzerland with a party of school friends. She's crazy about skiing.”

“Who was the woman?”

“I only know that her name was Leah.”

“Leah,” echoed Rollison, and told himself that if it ever became necessary to search for this woman, the name was unusual enough for people to remember its owner more easily than a more commonplace name. “Did she threaten you or Caroline?”

“Oh, no.”

Rollison asked: “Is there anyone else?”

“No,” Eve said firmly. “No, I've never heard that anyone else made trouble at all. Mr Rollison—”

“Eve,” Rollison interrupted, “we're going to work very closely together for the next few days, we'll probably see a lot of each other, and we might just as well make it Eve and Richard – or, if you prefer it, Rolly.”

After a pause, she said: “Thank you. I'd like that.”

“What were you going to say?”

“Supposing Caroline wasn't taken away by my husband, how—how can you set about trying to find her?”

“We would have to go to the police at once.”

“At Hapley?”

“Only to start with,” Rollison said. “And even if it was your husband who took her, if we're to stop him from getting away with her, we will have to consult the police.”

“Won't it be too late?” asked Eve bitterly.

“You mean, they could have left the country by now?”

“Yes.”

“Did Caroline have her passport with her?”

“She had it at school,” Eve answered. “I shouldn't think she would have had it with her when she went out tonight. She loved to look at the different continental stamps on it.” There was a catch in her voice again. “I think I ought to make one thing clear.”

“Yes.”

“I'll be guided by you. Do whatever you think best.”

“That's the way I like to work!” Rollison said, and glanced at her, smiling. “Headache?”

“Yes.”

“In the dashboard pocket in front of you you'll find some aspirins, and fitted inside the door pocket a vacuum jug with water in it. If you'll take three aspirins and close your eyes, you'll get some rest.”

“Thank you,” she said.

Soon they were on the open road, and the car was moving almost without a sound at eighty miles an hour. Now and again a car approached them, headlights dipping, but for the most part the road was empty. They turned into a main road, had a few miles of driving with heavy trucks going both ways, then turned off.

“You certainly know the way,” Eve remarked.

“I've lived in London for a long time,” Rollison told her.

When he glanced at her again, she was leaning back with her eyes closed. It was good to think that she could relax even a little; better to know that he had managed to affect her like that. He had a strange feeling, almost of contentment. There was no apparent reason for it, but there it was; a kind of warmth, stealing over him. He had felt like this once or twice before, many years ago and he had forgotten it except in the moments of nostalgic remembering. The almost voluptuous feel of the car, the soft sound of Eve Kane's breathing, the gentle touch of her arm against his because she was leaning slightly this way, were all part of the mood.

He kept glancing in the mirror.

Few cars could match this for speed. There was little danger of being followed, but that was a possibility which he could not neglect. His life had been one of fighting crimes of violence; of surviving because he had kept alert when other men, some clever, some brutal, some vicious and many deadly, had nodded for a moment. This might be a simple domestic matter – but Eve's assessment of her husband's character made it possible that much more was involved. If this were the case of the kidnapping of a child, there might be deep and secret motives, and deep and unknown dangers. So he watched the mirror, to make sure that no car followed. Everyone he overtook he studied carefully, so as to recognise it again later if he were forced to stop and the other car passed or stopped also. His was the trained mind, disciplined over the years to miss nothing that might later become significant. He had not told Eve, but if this were not simply a case of a father abducting his child, there might be danger for Eve as well as her daughter. If Caroline had been kidnapped from Hapley Station she must have been watched, and the family and school situation studied closely. If that were true of the daughter, it could be true of the mother.

Eve said unexpectedly: “Rolly.” She gave it a long ‘o', not short, as in Jolly, but as if it were spelt with only one ‘I'. “Why should anyone want to kidnap a child?”

Rollison did not answer, and Eve went on: “They wouldn't do it without a good reason. Why should anyone want to do it?”

“There are only two possibilities,” Rollison said, and it did not occur to him to lie or to hedge; she would want to know exactly what he thought, would not want to be shielded from fears or dangers. “The first is that of revenge, as with this Leah. I wouldn't rate it high unless there was much more than you knew about in his association with her. The other is to bring some kind of pressure to bear.”

“Do you mean, ransom?”

“Yes.”

“I didn't tell you this,” Eve said, and paused before declaring: “I am a wealthy woman – very wealthy, by most standards. I don't care what it costs to get Caroline back.”

“I don't think we ought to start thinking of that, yet.” Rollison said, although in fact it was on the top of his mind. “I think—”

He stopped, and grew tense, and knew that Eve looked at him, startled. He was staring a little way off the road, for the gleam of the great headlights had picked up a reflection from glass, presumably the windows of a car. Then, swiftly, a car swung out of a road just ahead of them, right in the great car's path.