Introducing The Toff by John Creasey Read Free Book Online Page A

of what the Toff called psychological terrorism.
    Dragoli stood it well. His face was expressionless.
    ‘And nothing else?’ he asked.
    ‘Lots of other things,’ the Toff assured him calmly. ‘You – and Garrotty – and...’
    That ‘and’ was a masterpiece. It flowed from the Toff’s lips and hung quivering in the air until the complacency of the Egyptian began to sag; which was what the Toff intended.
    ‘And,’ he repeated, as though once was not enough, ‘those pals of yours with the music-hall name, Achmed. The Black Circle, don’t they call themselves?’
    The atmosphere seemed suddenly frigid.
    Dragoli hardly seemed to breathe. His yellowish eyes blazed with a fury which consumed him. His body was actually quivering.
    From his silence the Toff learned what he wanted.
    Dragoli was definitely an agent of the Black Circle. And the last thing in the world he had expected was to be taunted with it. It stupefied him; it even made the sullen Garrotty uneasy.
    The Toff saw the blazing eyes of the Egyptian, the thick lips of the gangster parted over broken teeth – and the girl, who was very near him now, staring at him in bewilderment. For the sensation which had been created’ was more like the consequences of an approaching earthquake than the slow voice of the Toff,
    The Toff grinned at her, deciding that it was time to break the spell.
    ‘It looks,’ he drawled irritatingly, ‘as though I’ve spilled the salt in the gravy. ‘What’s the trouble, Achmed?’
    He wondered for a moment whether the Egyptian could keep back his rage, and he moved the bulge in his pocket suggestively. It had a steadying effect.
    ‘So you know that, do you?’ breathed the Egyptian.
    The Toff smiled cheerfully.
    ‘Say, but you’re smart. Not many men would have guessed it already.’ He winked at the girl. ‘Great minds are about us, Annabelle.’
    And he said other things flippantly. Dragoli had confirmed what he had wanted to confirm – the complicity of the sinister Black Circle in the murder of Paul Goldman.
    Dragoli spoke again, harping on the same chord.
    ‘So – you know about the Black Circle, do you, Rollison. And you find it amusing?’
    ‘Excruciatingly funny,’ agreed the Toff.
    The Egyptian’s eyes flashed.
    ‘Goldman knew about it too,’ he said slowly. ‘In fact, Goldman belonged to it. And he was going to betray it, so he died.’
    ‘Oh yes,’ drawled the Toff, unimpressed. But if Dragoli’s words left him cold, they had a different effect on the girl. The Toff looked at her for a moment, and saw the horror in her eyes. He thought she would collapse.
    ‘Steady,’ he murmured, and touched her arm. He felt her body quivering; mention of Goldman’s death had broken through her wonderful self-control. Why?
    The Toff was very curious, but this was no time for questions. What Goldman had meant to the girl would come out all in good time. For the moment the game was to bluff Dragoli into letting information slip.
    He grinned mockingly,
    ‘I shan’t die,’ he said easily. ‘At least not for a long time. And I’m getting ready to leave you, Achmed.’
    Dragoli’s teeth bared.
    ‘And your first step?’ he demanded suavely.
    ‘Safe refuge for Anabelle,’ said the Toff, ‘and then renewed hostilities, Achmed. Any suggestions?’
    ‘What do you call – safe refuge?’
    The Toff’s smile was ridiculously smug.
    ‘Scotland Yard, maybe, or a little cottage in the country. My dear Achmed, you’ve no idea how peaceful we can be in little old England – outside the “Steam Packet” and the Black Circle.’
    ‘And supposing,’ demanded Dragoli, without rising to the bait, ‘you don’t get out of the “Steam Packet”?’
    ‘Let’s suppose something infinitely more pleasant,’ suggested the Toff. ‘Friends of mine, for instance, will be actively interested in the “Steam Packet” if I don’t get out quite soon.’
    ‘Ah!’ muttered Dragoli, looking at the Toff doubtfully. Was it