The Toff In New York by John Creasey Read Free Book Online

sharply: “They have killed someone?”
    â€œOh, yes,” said Rollison, and the light faded from his eyes, which became very hard and grim. “The man next door is dead. Didn’t you guess?”
    She hadn’t guessed.
    Now, she realised that she should have; and suddenly her fears for her brother rose almost to screaming pitch.
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5
BRIGHT LIGHTS
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    The Honourable Richard Rollison, known by many by the apt if absurd soubriquet of the Toff, studied Valerie Hall closely. He felt no surprise at her behaviour, but much admiration for her as a person. She was the stuff of which heroines were made, as he had been warned. She was small, she was slender, she looked fragile; rather like something which ought to be protected, as Dresden china; but in her way she was as tough as women came, and she had that reputation among her friends and relatives, too.
    And in his way, the Toff was also tough. . . .
    He watched the varying expressions on Valerie’s face. He made allowance for the shocks she had already had, for her fears for her brother and the fact that she now knew that murder had been done. In the thirty seconds which passed between the Toff’s ‘didn’t you guess?’ and her response, expressions chased one another across her face - shock, fear, dread, hopelessness, resolve, hope reborn, anger and, finally, determination.
    It was quite a sight.
    By the time the show was over, the Toff was smiling very broadly.
    â€œWhat do you want me to do?” she asked, in a subdued voice. There was a pause; then she went on, more quickly: “I think you’d better tell me why I should trust you, and not the others. I don’t know you, either.”
    Now he had proof that she could keep her head.
    There was no desperate hurry to leave. Rollison was sure that the two men would not come back very quickly; they would allow some time to pass, so that when they returned, whatever message they gave Valerie would have the ring of truth; they would probably regale her with a story of how they had argued and pleaded with the man round the corner. So, Rollison took a letter from his pocket and handed it to the girl. She took it with her white, nicely-shaped hands. The envelope was addressed to the Honourable Richard Rollison, and after seeing that she glanced at him sharply, but didn’t speak.
    She opened the letter and glanced at the signature, which was Wilfred K. Hall.
    â€œIt’s from Wilf!” she cried. “Do you know him? Do . . .“But she didn’t finish what she was saying, just read the letter swiftly. Like that, with her eyes very bright and her lips parted, she looked quite at her best.
    The letter read:
    â€œThe job’s really very simple. I would like you to follow my sister, Valerie Hall, when she leaves London for New York, travelling on the same plane and staying at the Arden-Astoria to make sure that she’s all right. Of course, I may be crazy, there may not be any need for anxiety, but I have an uncomfortable feeling that either Valerie or I might run into trouble. I won’t go into details now. At best, it’ll be a flip across the big pond and a few days wallowing in luxury at the A-A. At worst, it will mean trouble, but I don’t need to tell the Toff anything about that!
    â€œI’ll arrange everything else with your man Jolly, of course. Thanks for easing my mind.
    Yours,”
    Valerie looked up again, with a different expression in her eyes; confidence. She studied Rollison’s face very closely, then glanced at her watch, and said quietly:
    â€œWe’d better do something, hadn’t we? They’re bound to come back soon. I’m not sure you were right to stop me from going out; I was only going to follow them, and . . .“
    â€œNot by yourself in New York,” Rollison protested; “too many wolves are interested. Conway and Halloran will be back soon, and they’ll say that this mystery man has