Salute the Toff Read Online Free PDF Page B

bored night after night on my own.”
    Nothing would really have surprised the Toff then.
    He would have been faintly annoyed and also amused had he found that the long arm of coincidence – in which he had a considerable belief – had brought the red-haired woman to Gresham Terrace by accident, although the knowledge that she had been at Chelsea made that seem unlikely.
    The woman opened the door with a key and pushed it.
    The Toff stepped through into a small foyer, which led through an open door to a long, low-ceilinged lounge with wall lighting that had a softening and pleasing effect. The furniture was ultra-modern, most of the chairs of steel tubing, and there was a nest of tables.
    The room was empty.
    The red-haired woman closed the door, and then Rollison had the next intimation that she had not brought him here by chance. For she slipped the bolt home, quickly, and as though she hoped he would not notice it. He affected not to, but watched her when she turned round.
    She was wearing a black two-piece, with a green blouse, and the combination suited her. Her tiny face was flawless, with the creamy skin that redheads so often have, and her eyes were huge.
    Her teeth, when she smiled, looked perfect.
    â€œWell, here we are,” she said. “There’s a drink in that cabinet. Do help yourself.”
    â€œI don’t think I will just now,” said the Toff. The woman’s smile hardened for a moment, but she shrugged and laughed it off.
    â€œPlease yourself. By the way, shouldn’t we exchange names?”
    The Toff said carefully: “Well, I don’t know, but I don’t really mind. Mine’s Rollison, Richard Rollison. What’s yours?”
    And then he knew that his first guess had been true.
    She stared, her features hardening, and the smile disappeared from her lips. For some seconds she stood there, quite expressionless, except for a blaze of anger in her eyes, an anger which might have been tinged with fear. And then she snapped: “You beast!”
    â€œReally!” said the Toff. She knew of him, obviously, but the fact that she had not recognised him proved that she had never seen him before. “We mustn’t put it quite like that, Delilah. We were getting on so well,” he added. His eyes were laughing, mocking her.
    â€œYou’ve made a mistake.” She had to force the words out, and Rollison knew that she hardly knew what she was saying. And no one would be alarmed by him – or by his name – unless they possessed a guilty conscience. He was intrigued, but did not think her alarm was wholly assumed.
    â€œWhat, another?” asked the Toff, and seemed genuinely amused. “If I believe all I hear I’m always making them, but I get over it. You brought me here to talk. Supposing you start, instead? There are gaps I would like filled in.”
    â€œGaps!”
    This was absurd, thought the Toff. She was hardly worth sharpening his sword against, and she was clearly frightened – unless, of course, she was putting up an act. He doubted that as he watched her breast rising and falling, and the tension in her amber eyes.
    â€œYou heard,” he said. “I know Draycott was killed, and how, and almost who killed him. But I don’t know why.”
    She said in a whisper it was hard to hear: “It’s a lie! He wasn’t killed; he—”
    â€œMyra, my dear!”
    The voice came from one of the doors that the Toff had seen, but which had been closed a moment before. A man’s voice, deep and not displeasing, and yet with a sharp note that made the woman swing round from the Toff and look towards the newcomer. The Toff simply glanced over his shoulder and waited for the man to come forward. And while he waited he sat on the arm of a settee.
    He saw a man of a height with himself, very fair-haired, and in a ruddy, rugged way, handsome. His lips were very red, and his eyes a clear blue. His complexion