by John Creasey
‘Good morning, sir. Is there anything I can do for you?’
Rollison smiled as only he could.
‘I’ve seen a most interesting piece of Burmese filigree work in your window, and I wondered—’
‘Ah—Burmese filigree,’ said Mr. Meer, and he launched a long discourse on filigree, Burmese and other wise, which lasted for ten minutes. Rollison evinced no impatience although he inserted a question now and again to show that his interest was intelligent. Finally: ‘The piece in the window,’ Mr. Meer went on, ‘is hardly first class, sir, but I have—I would not say this to anyone who was not obviously an expert—some excellent examples in my study upstairs, if you would care to inspect them. I would offer to bring them down but—’
‘I’ll come up with pleasure,’ said Rollison.
In the gloom the glint in Meer’s eyes was not obvious, and he turned and led the way up a flight of narrow, twisting stairs. Rollison followed carefully, and entered a room which was as gloomy as most of the shop, for the curtains were drawn across small windows, allowing only a filter of light to get through. Unlike the shop, however, the room was in excellent order, and about it were several genuine examples of Sheraton, Chippendale’ and Louis-Seize pieces. On one wall was a small collection of Burmese filigree, marvellously executed, some of it probably the labour of years.
‘You see,’ said Mr. Meer eagerly. ‘If you care to examine them more closely, I will switch on the light.’
He switched it on while the Toff pored over the pieces in his hands. By the door Meer hesitated, as if uncertain, and then in a slightly higher voice than usual he said: ‘Oh, excuse me …’
The Toff turned, and he looked at the automatic in Meer’s hand. It might have been a repetition of what had happened at Queen’s Road, except for one thing – of which Meer was not aware.
Rollison stared.
‘My dear sir, how absurd of you to try to come here on business,’ chuckled Mr. Meer. ‘If you suspected my interest in the affairs of Chamberlain, surely you realised I would be well acquainted with your appearance. A grave mistake, a very grave mistake.’
Rollison looked stupefied.
‘I—Good Lord, this—’
‘Don’t, please, try to bluff,’ said Meer testily. ‘It means wasting so much time, and we don’t want that. Do you know, Mr. Rollison, I think you and I will take a little journey. To join poor young Brendon and that unhappy girl.’
Rollison said slowly: ‘So you know where she is? Did you help to kill her father?’
Meer started.
‘But—’ He broke off and chuckled. ‘You were not convinced then that Brendon saw James Sanderson? Well, it can do little harm now, you may know that he didn’t. A man most amazingly like Sanderson, and—’
Rollison said slowly: ‘I wondered if that was the game, Meer. Sanderson disappears, his hands are mutilated to make positive identification impossible. But you don’t mind a tramp being found – the tramp was needed just to provide a body. Meaning,’ he added gently, while Meer continued to stare and continued to threaten with his automatic, ‘that the body of the tramp was nicely disposed of so that Sanderson’s body could be got rid of more conveniently. The one important thing was that no one should suspect that Sanderson was dead.’
‘You—you amaze me,’ said Meer. ‘I’m sure Chamberlain had no idea of the accuracy of your deductions.’
‘You ought to know,’ said the Toff, and he eased his shoulders back, as if to dispose of a dead weight. ‘You kept the girl because you knew Brendon would come after her, and if necessary she would have sent some word showing Brendon she was alive, bringing him into your blasted trap. Only Brendon and Sylvia could have identified James Sanderson definitely in this country—.’
‘In all countries, I hope,’ said Mr. Meer gently.
‘Maybe you hoped rightly,’ said the Toff, and he eased his shoulders back again. ‘Your man—the man Brendon saw—was to take Sanderson’s place, and take control of his business and his money. Nicely arranged, Meer.’
‘Yes, wasn’t it? I don’t mind admitting that it was my idea. You make one mistake, however. You say “was” and you mean “is”. Both Brendon and the girl are in our hands, and you—I’m afraid this time you will not get away, Mr. Rollison, and after all you can hardly expect your luck to last for ever.’
‘No-o,’ said Rollison. He looked at the gun, and then into Meer’s weak eyes, hidden so well by his thick-lensed glasses. ‘I suppose not. You—er—your men killed Sanderson, then the tramp. Sanderson’s real body was identified as the tramp’s, and the tramp’s will never be identified at all, certainly not as Sanderson. Oh, it was neat, Meer. But you had rather too many complications.’
‘I’ll admit that,’ said Meer handsomely.
‘Yes. You ran drugs and you ran a big fence’s business, you cut stolen stones here and sent them to Chamberlain’s office through Lowerby—who thought he was putting one over on you and Chamberlain. Lowerby was in it for his work on the drugs, of course; Hi Ling and Dougall merely provided your working arrangements, plus a useful share in the snow and the jewels. Quite a big business was built up—and Mr. Chamberlain, in and out of the country as he has been, has been the prime mover all the time. That’s right?’
‘Yes, yes; but really you—’
‘A moment,’ said Rollison evenly. ‘There isn’t a lot more to be explained, but Chamberlain killed two policemen. You know that, of course.’
‘Yes, a mistake, almost an accident, but …’ Meer shrugged. ‘Step this way, Mr. Rollison, please. And although I would much rather you had a talk with Chamberlain first, don’t make any foolish move or I shall be compelled to shoot you here and now. Most disturbing, and—’
‘A pity to bring the police here,’ Rollison said. ‘You wouldn’t like that at all.’ He stepped towards the door and Meer kept a safe distance, with the gun trained on him all the time. ‘Not at all, my friend. I told you once before that you were a good actor, didn’t I? A poor crook but a good actor.’
Meer stared; and then he swore. His voice was no longer mild and benevolent, it was harsh and overbearing – Chamberlain’s voice! Chamberlain!
‘Goddam you, you knew—’
‘Oh, yes,’ said the Toff evenly, ‘I knew when I saw you this morning: your grey wig makes you very much like you were on the night at the “Steam Packet”. That’s the trouble with crooks, Chamberlain, they always overlook something, and you overlooked that. As Mr. Meer you had a completely separate identity; you could have lived in England—or gone to France—without the slightest fear from the police. If it had worked out your way.’
‘It’ll work out!’ snarled Arnold Chamberlain. ‘I—’
‘Look just behind you,’ said the Toff, ‘and meet Chief-Inspector McNab, of Scotland Yard. An interested listener, who came down in response to a phone call this morning.’
‘Don’t try tricks! I—’
And then a heavy hand descended on Meer’s gun-arm, the gun was wrenched away, while burly Inspector McNab said, without humour: ‘But it isn’t a trick. Thanks, Rolleeson.’
‘No one in, and no one out,’ said the Toff easily, ‘Nice work, George, but we’re in something of a spot. We want to get in now.’
‘We’ve got to get them out first,’ said Mannering. ‘I know there’s someone there, we’ve seen them at the windows. The Nigger, for one. What the deuce did you go off to see that man Meer for?’
‘I wanted to get to know him better,’ said the Toff. ‘We can talk later, old man, but first we’ve got to move. Have your people been seen?’
‘I don’t think so; they’ve kept well out of sight behind the trees and bushes. Rollison, I wish you’d explain a little more.’
‘All the explaining needed for the moment,’ said the Toff, ‘is that two prisoners and three murderers are at Wyndham Manor. If we make a rush, the prisoners aren’t likely to have a good time, and one of them’s a girl. I think—Is Jolly about?’
‘Here,
sir,’ said Jolly from nearby. They were near the drive and they could see a part of the house through the trees.
‘We’ll do it,’ said Rollison, ‘We’ll drive up as if we’re on our own. Get the door open and then our flannelled fools and what police have arrived can rush. I shall need five minutes inside to look after the girl.’
Mannering’s red face was set in alarm.
‘Are you serious? Do you know what you’re risking?’
‘I’ve had so much luck this time,’ said the Toff, ‘that a little risk will only be repayment. Let’s get back to the car, Jolly. George, on your life, don’t let a man move forward until we’ve been inside for five minutes. All right?’
‘Ye-es …’ Mannering seemed dubious; but McNab, who arrived immediately on the Toff ’s words, assured him that it was the kind of thing Rollison was likely to do; while the Toff asked, reasonably, what other thing they could try.
For there was no hope for Brendon and the girl in a large-scale attack.
In three minutes Rollison’s Frazer-Nash was running along the drive, with Jolly at the wheel and the Toff next to him, and looking about him, to the credit of the cricketers, he saw only an occasional patch of white, and when he climbed out of the car and looked from the house, he saw none.
‘Well, Jolly?’ he said.
‘We need the luck, sir.’
‘Right again. Well, bang on the door.’
The echoes of the knocking reverberated through the barely furnished house, and there was a minute of silence. As they waited Rollison saw the possibility of death, and the possibility was not remote. The men inside would be desperate, and without Chamberlain they lacked a leader. The one way to trick them was to make them believe Rollison and Jolly were not accompanied by the police.
Footsteps dragged along the floor.
Rollison put a hand to his pocket, and Jolly did likewise. The footsteps drew nearer – but before the door opened a voice snapped from behind them: ‘Keep right ther’!’
It was Jaggers – and Jaggers with a gun. He had come from the back, taking no chances; and in the Toff ’s eyes there was an expression that suggested he had not dreamed of any attack.
Jaggers grinned, and his squint did not look less villainous.
‘The Boss’ll be glad to see yer! Okay, Nig, watch ’em.’
Dougall had opened the door, and in his hand, too, there was a gun. There was obvious reason for the Toff to try nothing, and he stepped over the threshold with Jolly in his wake. He knew that if any of the cordon about the house were seen it was his death-warrant, and Jolly’s. But both Jaggers and Dougall seemed too relieved to have suspicions.
‘And I thought you was smart,’ grinned Dougall. ‘Yessah, folks said you were smart. Pick yo’ feet up them stairs.’
‘You’re making another mistake,’ said Rollison, for it was the kind of thing he might be expected to say. For answer he had a clout on the side of the head from Dougall’s vast hand, and he walked upstairs without speaking again. The old man was near the door of the attic room, and from the second landing a man hurried – Matthews – who was so like Sanderson.’
‘My God—Rollison!’
‘Sure t’ing! Easy meat!’ grinned Dougall. ‘De boss, he said he could do it; I guess he’s plenty clever. Open de door, old man, and …’
The ancient, first cousin to the man of Queen’s Road, judging from appearances, opened the door. Rollison was pushed through roughly; Jolly was helped by a kick from the rear that offended more than hurt him.
‘De boss will be back soon,’ grinned Dougall. ‘Take de fellas’ guns, Jag, take dem.’
Jaggers unarmed the Toff and Jolly, while Brendon – conscious again – and Sylvia Sanderson stared at the new-comers. Brendon drew a sharp breath, and: ‘So they got you too! We’re finished. I—’
‘You shut yo’ trap,’ grinned Dougall. ‘Yo’ finished okay.’
He went out and banged the door, and they heard the key turn in it. Brendon was pale-faced, the girl seemed to stagger on her feet, but to them both the Toff turned a beaming smile and for once the dyspeptic face of Jolly did its best to imitate the beam.
‘It’s precisely what the doctor ordered,’ said the Toff. ‘For once there’s a climax when I just look on, and that’s a pleasant change. Pull yourself together, Brendon. Give me a hand with getting all the furniture against the door.’
‘But—’
‘The police and others,’ said Rollison, ‘are about to raid the place, and this will be the safest spot by a long way.’
It was.
From the attic window, and taking it in turns to look out since they needed a chair to reach it, they watched the slow approach of the police, and they heard the shooting. Twice there were efforts to get into the attic room, but the door stood the strain while the ring of police – with the cricketers in support – came remorselessly closer. And then from the window the Toff saw Dougall and the man Matthews start to run, knew they had been forced out, and were taking a desperate chance.
Both men crashed down, wounded in the legs, before they had moved twenty yards. While inside Jaggers and the ancient were wounded and unable to offer any resistance when the police broke in.
The Toff smiled down on Sylvia and young Brendon. ‘A bad break,’ he said, ‘but it’s your innings now. I’ve told you most of what I learned from Meer, and all that I managed to piece together. We’ve been lucky, and that means you as well as me in many ways. It could have been a great deal worse.’
Brendon nodded.
‘Of course, but—’
‘You’re going to ask why it started,’ said the Toff. ‘Well, it started in nineteen hundred and ten, when Jim Sanderson and Arnold Chamberlain lost a race for a gold-claim, and Chamberlain did murder. Both men were equally guilty in the eyes of the law, but whereas Chamberlain kept crooked, Sanderson went straight. He did well, but Chamberlain kept demanding payment for silence—and since your father, Miss Sanderson, did not know where Chamberlain was and could not answer threat by threat, he paid. That’s why he was always worried, why he kept himself to himself—he was always afraid.’
The girl nodded, and if her face was pale she showed no signs of breaking down.
‘Chamberlain grew more insistent with his demands, and your father decided to retire and come to England. Chamberlain suspected such a move, and sent Jaggers to Australia to watch all developments. Consequently he knew just when you left Australia and—as Chamberlain, a different name from that he had used when your father knew him—he struck an acquaintance, sold you a fur cape, talked of flats and houses, and generally behaved as a friend. He was doing very well, but he was tired of keeping windward of the law, and after he saw your father he knew that he had this man Matthews to use for—well, call it stepping into your father’s shoes.’
‘The beastly swine!’ said Brendon gruffly.
‘Nothing stronger than that?’ asked the Toff. ‘Sanderson—the false Sanderson—had to be trained to take your father’s place: it couldn’t be done in too much hurry. It looked fool-proof, too, except that they made a mistake in letting you see he was actually murdered. However—it was just that shade too complicated; Chamberlain had one iron too many in the fire.’
‘It’s as well he did,’ said Sylvia quietly. ‘I don’t know how to thank you, Mr. Rollison.’
‘Thank me?’ said the Toff in surprise. ‘It’s me to thank you; I enjoyed it. Particularly the last act. I’ve never felt so safe and comfortable in my life. Well …’
It was a week after the raid on Wyndham Manor when the two youngsters left his flat, after shaking hands warmly, a moment when Sylvia had been very close to tears. The Toff watched them walking along Gresham Terrace with Jolly at his side.
‘A nice couple, Jolly.’
‘Yes, sir. And a nice haul, if I may say so.’
‘Yes. But let it be a lesson to you. Jolly; don’t go in for too many complications when you turn to a life of crime. Well—McNab’s happy, and Dawbury
’s happy, and we’re happy and Sir George Mannering is certainly well content, so—’
‘I beg leave to differ, sir,’ said Jolly dispassionately. ‘Sir George was on the telephone this afternoon, sir. He is arranging another cricket week, in view of the fact that the last one was so disturbed, and he is hoping you will be available for every match, sir.’
The Toff grinned.
‘I take my hat off to him, Jolly,’ he said. ‘Certainly we will go.’
Series Information
Published or to be published by
House of Stratus
Dates given are those of first publication
Alternative titles in brackets
‘The Baron’ (47 titles) (writing as Anthony Morton)
‘Department ‘Z’’ (28 titles)
‘Dr. Palfrey Novels’ (34 titles)
‘Gideon of Scotland Yard’ (22 titles)
‘Inspector West’ (43 titles)
‘Sexton Blake’ (5 titles)
‘The Toff’ (59 titles)
along with:
The Masters of Bow Street
This epic novel embraces the story of the Bow Street Runners and the Marine Police, forerunners of the modern police force, who were founded by novelist Henry Fielding in 1748. They were the earliest detective force operating from the courts to enforce the decisions of magistrates. John Creasey’s account also gives a fascinating insight into family life of the time and the struggle between crime and justice, and ends with the establishment of the Metropolitan Police after the passing of Peel’s Act in 1829.
‘The Baron’ Series
These Titles can be read as a series, or randomly as standalone novels
Meet the Baron (The Man in the Blue Mask) (1937)
The Baron Returns (The Return of the Blue Mask) (1937)
The Baron Again (Salute Blue Mask) (1938)
The Baron at Bay (Blue Mask at Bay) (1938)