The Toff on Fire by John Creasey Read Free Book Online Page A

much chance of getting away from the police while carrying an infant of that age, so—”
    What of the woman’s fear?
    If this had been planned cold-bloodedly, if parents simply wanted to be free from the child, would the woman have sounded so frightened? And remember the talk of the Doc.
    Rollison reached a decision.
    He lifted the receiver again, and dialled Whitehall 1212. When a brisk-voiced operator said: “Scotland Yard,” he asked at once:
    â€œSuperintendent Grice isn’t there by any chance, is he?”
    â€œNo, sir, I’m afraid not.”
    â€œChief Inspector Worley?”
    â€œNo, sir.”
    â€œChief Inspector Knott?”
    â€œYes, sir, he’s in his office. Who shall I tell him is calling?”
    â€œRichard Rollison.”
    â€œRichard Rol—” echoed the operator, and then stopped abruptly, only to go on in a different tone: “Mr. Rollison, yes sir. I’ll put you through at once.”
    â€œThanks very much,” said Rollison warmly.
    Knott was a youngish man, only recently promoted, and was particularly well-disposed, because a few months earlier he had arrested a murderer in what was generally accepted as a very smart piece of work; hence his promotion. He was well aware that he would not have made the arrest but for the Toff, and was not likely to stand on ceremony.
    â€œHallo, Rollison, can’t you sleep?” Knott had a lively voice. “What’s the trouble?”
    â€œIt’s my guilty conscience and a curious telephone call,” said Rollison mildly.
    â€œCan’t do anything about your conscience,” said Knott; it was easy to imagine his grin. “What information do you want about the telephone call?”
    â€œThe number in Guildford, hence the address,” Rollison told him. “The Supervisor is getting both, but won’t confide in an ordinary humble citizen. If I tell her to refer to the Yard, she might decide to trust me.”
    â€œAnd she might also check with us,” said Knott dryly. “All right, you can give us as a reference. What’s it all about?”
    â€œWhen I’ve found out, I’ll tell you.”
    â€œI hope you mean that! How did the American trip go, by the way? I read bits and pieces about you; you seem to have taken New York by storm.”
    â€œIn fact they took me by the seat of my pants, but I survived,” said Rollison, and took advantage of Knott’s expansive mood. “The trouble is that I’m out of touch over here, just now.”
    â€œExactly what else do you want to know?”
    Rollison chuckled.
    â€œGo on like this, and I’ll begin to think you earned your promotion after all! What kind of a reputation has the Doc won for himself lately?”
    There was a long pause, so long that it seemed ominous. Then at last: “Nasty,” said Knott, and his voice sharpened noticeably. “There was another ugly killing in Shadwell five weeks ago, not much doubt that the Doc did it, or else he was behind it. We didn’t put an end to him when we hanged Jessie Gay. Is this—”
    â€œKnow who he is, yet?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWe must find out,” said Rollison, earnestly. “Chief Inspector, I can’t thank you enough, and if anything happens that is likely to interest you, I’ll pass it on.”
    â€œMind you do,” said Knott. He did not sound quite so amiable now; mention of the Doc had obviously troubled him. “Take my advice, and make sure what you’re doing before you tackle anything that the Doc’s involved in. He’s reputed to have said he’ll break you, for catching Jessie Gay.”
    â€œOh, has he?” said Rollison heavily. That woman’s fear had been real fear, remember. “I’ll be very careful indeed,” he promised. “Goodbye.”
    He rang off, stubbed out the cigarette, which he had drawn at only three or four times, and called the