Feathers for the Toff

by John Creasey

  “Rolly!”

  “Why give me the bird?” demanded Rollison.

  “I didn’t see you! Alec, Rolly’s back.”

  She talked like a girl in her teens, and he did not doubt the genuineness of her gaiety a few minutes before, but now he saw the seriousness of her expression. F ear had descended upon her – fear of what he might have discovered.

  Wilmot dropped his rake and came out of the house, his shoulders hunched. Alec came to the door.

  “How’s your man?” asked Alec, quickly.

  “He’ll pull through,” said Rollison. “We’re all extremely lucky, Alec, especially you and I.”

  “Why?” snapped Sheila.

  “There was arsenic in the salt,” said Rollison. “It was a deliberate attempt to murder you, Alec, and—”

  “No, no!” cried Sheila, and her face blanched. “No, it’s impossible, they promised me—”

  Alec looked towards her, Wilmot turned a startled face towards Rollison, Sheila backed away, buried her face in her hands and staggered blindly from them.

  Chapter Nine

  Two Stories Of Strange Events

  Of the three men, Wilmot was by far the most embarrassed. He stared at Sheila, hitched his coat up on his shoulders, stared at the little chicken house, put his hands into his pockets and drew them out again. Then he caught Rollison’s eye. Alec was so intent on Sheila that he did not see Rollison motion towards the bungalow.

  Wilmot’s face cleared. He nodded and hurried off, disappearing through the open back door. Rollison lit a cigarette, as Alec stepped awkwardly from the narrow doorway, approached Sheila, and stood a yard or two away. Her shoulders were heaving, but she was not crying aloud.

  “Sheila,” Alec began, in a barely audible voice.

  She drew near another poultry house, and Alec moved more quickly, putting out an arm to save her from banging into it. His arm stayed about her waist. Rollison strolled towards the larger sheds, keeping his back towards them.

  Sheila suddenly relaxed and clung to Alec, her arms clasped about his shoulders, straining to him. He stood with one hand on her hair, the other about her waist, looking over her head, towards the distant hills.

  “I—I’m such a beast,” she said at last.

  “Sheila—”

  “Such a miserable little beast,” said Sheila, in a muffled voice. “I don’t know why you don’t tell me what you think of me, and send me away.”

  Alec said: “Sheila, I always have loved you and I still love you, and I don’t care whether you’ve been a—I don’t care what you’ve been! Sheila, listen to me!” he added fiercely. “Did you know anything about Whittering’s murder?”

  “I was there when he died, but I didn’t do it, I didn’t know it was being done, I—Alec, you can’t!”

  “What can’t I do?”

  “Still love me.”

  “I love you now as much as I ever did. I—but what’s the use?” he went on, with a catch in his voice. “Sheila, forget all that rot. If I can do anything to help you, just tell me what, and I’ll go ahead and do it.”

  “Rot!” cried Sheila. “You call it rot!” She stood back and looked at him, tears glistening on her lashes, her green eyes red-rimmed and narrowed, her lips unsteady. “Alec, I—I hate myself!”

  “You mustn’t talk like that,” said Alec. “We must get on with the urgent job as quickly as we can. I think Rollison is trustworthy, don’t you?”

  “Oh, yes!” That was heartfelt, too.

  “Well, hadn’t we better tell him all we know?”

  Sheila hesitated, and then asked: “Will you start?”

  “Of course.”

  “All right, let’s tell him,” said Sheila, and half-turned. Before Alec could raise his voice, however, she swung back, flung her arms about him, and kissed him on the lips. He felt her lips against his teeth, her body against his. He was breathless when she drew back.

  Rollison heard them coming, and turned round. He was not surprised to see lipstick on Alec’s lips.

  “Rollison, we want to talk to you,” said Alec, gruffly.

  “I hoped you would soon get round to that,” said Rollison.

  “It goes quite a long way back,” began Alec. “About nine months, to the time when Sheila and I broke our engagement. I’d come out of hospital, patched up pretty well, and by a stroke of what I thought was luck, I bought this place. A friend of mine was emigrating, and wanted to sell quickly. The furniture which interested you so much was my mother’s, I’d kept it in store since her death.” He seemed anxious to go into detail. “I decided to buy without consulting Sheila, and that caused a quarrel. I should have talked it over with her, of course, but I took it for granted that she wouldn’t mind where we lived nor what we did for a living. She didn’t like the idea of running a poultry farm.”

  “It wasn’t that!” interpolated Sheila, quickly. “I didn’t like the idea of being stuck out here in the wilds. I don’t mind the chickens, I think they’re sweet!”

  Alec did not smile.

  “Well, one thing led to another. Danny Bond and I had been pretty good friends for some time, and I knew he and Sheila got along well. I was told they were seeing a lot of each other. As a matter of fact it was my father who told me,” Alec went on. “I felt pretty low. I wasn’t used to my artificial leg, and felt a hopeless crock. I wrote to Sheila, and she didn’t answer—”

  “Darling, the letter was mislaid, I swear it was! I found it weeks afterwards behind my dressing-table, I could have cried! If you hadn’t refused to see me—”

  “Oh, it was my fault,” said Alec, harshly. “I made a complete fool of myself. I heard that Sheila and Danny often went to a night-club in London. I—I haven’t much time for night-clubs, the truth is that Sheila and I have entirely different outlooks on life.”

  “Alec!”

  “We may as well face the facts,” said Alec. “That night Sheila was a little drunk—” he looked at her, expecting a denial, but she said nothing—“and Danny Bond was behaving as if he owned her. I lost my head and made a fuss, and—well, we broke it off there and then. I came down here, and Sheila got engaged to Danny.”

  “It was crazy of me,” said Sheila. “I—I like Danny, but I’ve never been in love with him. Alec, I swear I haven’t!” She caught her breath. “But how can I tell him so, when he’s in prison?”

  “I suppose you’re wondering why on earth I’m washing all this dirty linen in front of you, Rollison. It’s the only way to make you understand everything that followed. After I’d got to my hotel from the night-club, I had a visit from a man I’d never seen before. A man named Whittering.”

  “Ah!” said Rollison.

  “He had been at the Kim-Kam and heard the quarrel, and he knew that I hadn’t much money. I’d taunted Sheila with dropping me because I was broke. This fellow Whittering seemed to think that I was exactly the man for his money. He said that he could put me on to a good thing, in which I would make a small fortune, and that I could also get my own back on Danny Bond. If I’d been feeling better, I would have thrown him out of the room!”

  Rollison could imagine that.

  “A couple of days afterwards, I had another visitor here,” went on Alec. “As they couldn’t bribe me, they tried to seduce me! It was a woman, a willowy creature with a languishing eye. She practically offered to live with me!”

  “What was her name?” asked Rollison.

  “She called herself Babette Smith. I was a bit wiser by then, and she soon made it clear that she had her knife in Danny. She didn’t say that she was a friend of Whittering’s, but I put two and two together, and heard what she had to say. Apparently Danny had come across some hush-hush business—something pretty nasty, as far as I could gather—and she and her precious friends were anxious to make sure that he didn’t give them away. As far as I could make out, what she wanted me to do was to make life so miserable for Danny that he would leave London. She said that it would be worth five hundred pounds if I m
anaged it, as well as expenses while I stayed in London. I told her that she was wasting her time. I had an old man looking after the farm at the time, but he was helpless and things were going to wrack and ruin. This woman came several times, always with the same object, and her price went up to a thousand pounds.”

  “Did she give you any more details about Danny?”

  “She made it pretty clear that while he remained in London and kept up his rounds of night-clubs, he was a danger to someone who was extremely anxious to get rid of him, for a few weeks, at least. I said no. The next I heard about it was when Danny came down here, the day after the old lady had been attacked in London. He was thoroughly jittery, said that he had been framed, begged me to let him stay here and hide from the police. I told him that he could stay for the night and that I wouldn’t give him away, but that he’d have to find somewhere else the next morning,” Alec added simply. “He went to the Roebuck, as you know, and I didn’t see him again.”

  Rollison, hopeful, until then, felt disappointed.

  “If I’d really believed that he had been framed I might have acted differently,” Alec went on, “but I thought he had robbed the old lady. He didn’t tell me that she had been badly knocked about, and it wasn’t until I read the papers after he’d gone that I realised what kind of a business it had been. Then—then Sheila got in touch with me.”

  “I had to try to help Danny,” interrupted Sheila, “I was sure he wouldn’t do such a beastly thing. I thought perhaps he’d been down here on the night that Mrs. Fotheringay was attacked, you see. The very minute that I heard Alec’s voice on the telephone, I knew how I’d longed to hear him. I did, Alec!”

  Alec said: “All right, you did.” He drew in his breath. “The next thing was another visit from Babette Smith, in her most seductive mood. She knew Danny had been down here, and thought he had given me something-or-other which was important to her and her friends. I said he hadn’t given me anything. She called me a liar and started threatening me, and made me think that Danny had been framed. So I telephoned you. Sheila had already told me that you were helping her. Then the other business that I’ve told you started, and—well, that’s about the lot, from my point of view.” He looked at Sheila. “Now it’s up to you.”

  Rollison took out cigarettes. Sheila brushed away the proffered case, and spoke quickly, her words jumbled up, her eyes glistening.

  “I know I’ve done everything I shouldn’t do, but I had to try to find a way out of the mess! Alec probably won’t believe me, but the reason I was so desperately anxious to help Danny was that Alec’s father came to see me—”

  “What?” cried Alec.

  “He did, Alec, three or four nights ago—yes, four, it was early on Monday morning, I know, because I’d been out late. I was still in my dressing-gown when he called. As he said it was urgent I went to the morning-room to see him, without dressing. He looked terribly worried and said that you were in great trouble, and the only way in which you could be helped was to get Danny free. He told me something about a mysterious package, something Danny had got hold of and passed on to you. He said he was helping these people, and he was in their power—oh, it was a remarkable story, but I had to believe it!”

  “He’s the most accomplished liar on earth,” said Alec, bitterly. “Sheila, why didn’t you tell me this before?”

  “I knew perfectly well that if I told you I was trying to help you, you would get stinking proud, and—Alec, I didn’t mean to be beastly!”

  For the first time since he had arrived, Alec’s smile seemed one of genuine amusement.

  “Just go on being you,” he said.

  “I don’t seem to be able to say anything without making a faux pas,” said Sheila, unhappily. “Where was I? Oh, yes, I pretended that I was only interested in helping Danny. By then I’d asked you to help, Rolly, only you didn’t seem to be doing much. I would have told you about the threat to Alec, only his father called again and told me that I mustn’t mention Alec’s name to you. He said that if I did he wouldn’t like to be responsible for what happened, but that if I said nothing to you about Alec and Winchester, he could guarantee that nothing serious would happen to Alec. That’s what I meant just now about them promising me. And that’s all I can tell you. Absolutely everything! When I knew that you were coming to Winchester, I realised that the fat was in the fire. I jumped at the chance of coming down. Oh, I know I made friends with Gerry Wilmot, but that was only because I was afraid there would be a stand-up row with Alec if I arrived before you’d broken the ice. I didn’t dare to let you come out here alone.”

  “There are one or two small things, Sheila,” Rollison said. “Why did you go to Whittering after he’d told you that he’d seen Danny at a club on the night of the robbery?”

  “I thought I might get more out of him when he was at his flat alone. When he died, I was frightened out of my life! You’d been so pally with the police, you wouldn’t do anything except work with them, and I was afraid that if I told you the truth, you would tell them, and then I would be under suspicion. When you called the next day I was in, but I told Kate to say I was out. At least that deceived you!”

  “What made you change your mind about coming to see me?”

  “That policeman who followed me. He made me so nervous that I couldn’t stand it on my own any longer. I wouldn’t have told you about visiting Whittering’s flat if you hadn’t guessed,” she added, “and then when I realised that you were prepared to help me and not to tell the police, I decided to tell you everything. When I heard that we were coming down here, I thought it was wonderful, but now Jolly’s been hurt and Alec’s nearly been murdered.”

  “None of us have been murdered yet, and we’ve driven them out of one hiding-place,” said Rollison. “Alec, have you any idea how your father comes to be mixed up in this?”

  “None at all,” Alec assured him. “I’d no idea that he had been to see Sheila. If you mean what is the relationship between my father and me, and what kind of man is he—well, I’ve never liked him. He and my mother were always at loggerheads. You can see for yourself that he fancies himself as a lady-killer. We had a row just after I left hospital, partly my fault, because I was feeling pretty sore about things in general, and the next time I saw him was when he came here this morning.”

  “You were going to tell me what he said to you, weren’t you?”

  Alec looked at Sheila, shrugged his shoulders, and said reluctantly: “He told me that I would probably have some visitors that day, but he didn’t mention any names. He told me that Sheila was in serious trouble and that if I—er—if I cared anything about her safety, I’d better have nothing to do with them. That’s why I behaved as I did with you.” Sheila was looking at him, bright-eyed.

  “So you were played off against each other,” said Rollison. “It looks as if they realised that the old fires hadn’t quite burned out, doesn’t it?”

  “What do you mean?” asked Sheila, quickly.

  “Think it out,” said Rollison, smiling. He half-turned, then turned back, and spoke in the same light voice: “Oh, Alec, where’s the package which Danny Bond gave you?”

  Chapter Ten

  A Little Question Of Money

  Rollison did not know whether to be pleased or sorry at Alec’s reaction to the question. Alec looked puzzled, and then his lips curved in a smile.

  “You’re a dangerous customer,” he said. “For a moment I almost thought I’d seen a package! Danny gave me nothing.”

  “And the same goes for me,” said Sheila quickly.

  “Well, I don’t think talk of the package is entirely hot-air, and we ought to assume that Danny brought it from London to Winchester,” Rollison said. “Perhaps he left it here.”

  “Great Scott!” exclaimed Alec. “Do you seriously think so?”

  “Supposing we have some tea and then look round?”

  “Never mind tea,” said Alec. “Let’s search the spare-room. I—” He broke off, abruptly, and t
urned to look at Rollison with startled eyes. “By George, now I understand!”

  “What do you understand?”

  “When I came back from the station yesterday, I thought the spare-room looked as if someone had been in it—it was tidier than when I left it. I thought the woman who comes to clean up had been in—she has a key and comes whenever she can—but the room had been searched!”

  “Then we’ve lost the package,” exclaimed Sheila.

  “Not yet,” said Rollison.

  When they got into the bungalow, Gerry Wilmot was looking through some magazines in the sitting-room. He jumped up.

  “If I’m in the way, just say the word and I’ll hike back,” he said.

  “You’re not in the way,” said Alec, casually.

  “I should think not!” said Sheila. “I don’t know what we could have done without you.” She looked at Gerry so coquettishly that Alec frowned, and Rollison watched her thoughtfully. Nothing depressed her for long, and nothing was ever likely to stop her roving eye.

  They searched the spare bedroom before making tea, and while they were going through it, Sheila flinging clothes right and left, and trying to take the carpet up while standing on it, the car arrived from Winchester; the driver was quite prepared to wait. The search took three-quarters of an hour, and yielded nothing. They went into the kitchen, where Alec made tea and Rollison cut bread-and-butter, while Sheila and Wilmot laid the table. Sheila broke one cup and a glass salt-spoon.

  During the meal Rollison gave Wilmot a resumé of the situation, without going into any great detail. The American seemed to mean it when he said that he would gladly help in every way he could. He had a week’s leave. Rollison approached the next subject cautiously; it might be a sound idea, he said, if Wilmot were to stay at the bungalow. There might be more visitations.

  “Why don’t you say what you mean?” demanded Alec, sourly. “I’m no use on my own, and I know it.”