Salute the Toff by John Creasey Read Free Book Online Page B

likely really to secure her interest, and when he’s married that will probably sort itself out. Provided,” added the Toff, “that he’s alive.”
    Harrison took out his pipe and began to fill it, while the Toff leaned back against the cushion and appeared to doze. He heard Harrison say abruptly: “Now you’ve dragged this out of me, how does it help?”
    â€œI don’t know yet,” said the Toff. “It’s a bad break, but you’ve had time to get used to it.”
    â€œOh, it doesn’t worry me much now,” said Harrison.
    But he was not convincing, and the Toff considered this new personal angle to the affair of Fay Gretton. He was not altogether surprised, but there was one thing which puzzled him.
    Why had Harrison sent Fay to see him?
    Harrison must have suspected that the trouble was serious or he would have offered to try to get into the flat himself. Possibly Harrison felt too keenly the situation which had arisen between Fay and Draycott. Fay’s insistence on avoiding the police – a reasonable insistence as things had been – could easily have made Harrison think of the Toff.
    Nevertheless, Harrison had a motive for murder.
    The Toff considered that point and decided that the motive was very slim. Had Draycott and Fay been engaged, or had there been any possibility of Draycott breaking one engagement for another, that would have given Harrison’s position a completely new significance. Of course, he had only Harrison’s word that Draycott knew nothing of Fay’s feelings, but he could not imagine Fay showing them.
    In a tortuous fashion the Toff had arrived at two suspects, Harrison and Fay: and because he made an unfailing practice of keeping all the possibilities in mind, he did not entirely close the gate on them.
    Before leaving the flat the Toff had slipped a small automatic into his pocket, for he did not propose to be taken unawares again. He had not told Harrison that he was carrying it, but he kept it at his side in the bunk, tying it to his wrist with a small strap to make sure that it did not fall.
    The rumble of the train-wheels did not disturb him, nor did the piercing shriek of the whistle as the train went through many stations: but a movement at the door did.
    He opened his eyes.
    There was a small light burning in the middle of the carriage ceiling. On the opposite berth Harrison was lying on his back, with his mouth open and a faint snore coming from his lips. Without his glasses, and in that dim light, he looked older and a little careworn.
    But the snoring had not awakened the Toff.
    He was facing the door, a position he had taken up deliberately, and he watched it slide open, inch by inch. He saw a man’s hand coming more clearly into view as the sliding door opened. Then he saw the man’s head and shoulders, recognizing nothing and hardly seeing the face, for the man’s trilby was pulled well down over his forehead, and the Toff was unable to move to get a better view.
    One thing was certain: it was not Lorne.
    This man was shorter, and smaller in every way. He moved with a furtive stealth and yet with such precision that it seemed clear that he had entered feloniously on more than one occasion. He stepped into the carriage as the door was wide enough to admit him, and looked first at Harrison and then away.
    Through eyes that looked closed in sleep the Toff saw the man stare at him, and saw the thin lips tighten. He had a better view of the face then, and was not impressed. It was sallow and thin, and the lips were set tightly and showed very little shape. The nose was long, and pinched at the nostrils. The eyes and forehead were completely covered.
    The Toff gripped his automatic.
    He maintained an even breathing, and the intruder did not suspect that he was being watched. A moment later the Toff relaxed, for the man went to his clothes – on a hanger at the foot of his bunk – and began to run