Read Online The Toff on Fire by John Creasey - Free Book Online

you start with this baby business?” Grice gave a droll grin. “I’ve seen you at work often enough, and probably know one thing about you that you don’t realise yourself.”
    â€œSeveral, probably, but which one?”
    â€œTo get results, you need a cause,” said Grice. “You were born three centuries too late; a suit of armour, a trusty blade and a fair lady’s reputation would have been exactly right for you.”
    â€œI’ve a cause this time,” said Rollison, softly. “Do some things for me, Bill. Trace that motor-cycle, without letting it be known that you’re after it. Find out if Dan Rickett and his wife are hiding out anywhere, but don’t pull them in. Let me know if you find either of them dead, too.”
    Grice nodded, soberly.
    â€œJust one other thing,” added Rollison, and found himself able to smile. “Do you seriously think that to exert pressure on Rickett, the Doc would threaten Rickett’s baby?”
    â€œYes,” said Grice, abruptly, and glanced at the telephone as it rang. “That will probably be Guildford.” He lifted the receiver. “Hallo? … Yes, he’s here. For you,” he added almost in the same breath, and held out the receiver.
    Rollison moved towards him. “But no one knows I’m here.”
    Grice said: “That’s what you thought.”
    Rollison took the receiver, hesitated, and said: “Richard Rollison speaking.” He had no idea whom to expect, but for some reason he found himself thinking of Esmeralda and her round, pretty face and her wicked eyes. “Who—”
    â€œSo it’s the ruddy Toff,” a man said in a husky voice; the kind of voice it would be difficult if not impossible to identify. “Like some advice, Toff? Go back to the great U.S.A. Or go anywhere you like, so long as you don’t start interfering in London; it isn’t your territory any more.”
    Then he rang off.
    Rollison looked at the receiver thoughtfully, replaced it with great deliberation, told Grice exactly what the man had said, and then added: “And he sounded as if he believed it. How I hate these automatic exchanges—”
    â€œI’ll make sure it was a local call,” Grice said, and picked up the receiver, asked the operator, and then put the receiver down and said: “It was.”
    â€œBill, if that was the Doc and he doesn’t want me to poach, he probably knows why I’m here,” Rollison said. “If he’s got the Ricketts, he may have made them tell where he left the baby.” Now he stopped moving and speaking slowly, but quickened his pace towards the door. “The Wylies live in Throgmorton Square. Ebbutt’s got a couple of men there, but it would be better to have one or two good plainclothes men keeping an eye on the place. Will you fix it? I’m going to my flat; the Doc’s boys have probably paid me a visit, hoping to find the baby there.”
    He opened the door.
    Grice was on his feet.
    â€œI’ll fix Throgmorton Square,” he said. “That call wouldn’t have been made if the Doc still had a man at your flat, but I’d better send someone with you, to—”
    â€œDon’t,” urged Rollison. “If a friend of the Doc is waiting there I don’t want him to think that a Yard man will follow me like Mary’s lamb. He’ll probably want to Teach Me A Final Lesson, and Warn Me Off the East End For Ever. So we’ll let him try. Look after the Wylies and that baby. As soon as I’m through, I’ll try to get a bodyguard there myself.”
    Grice was already at the telephone.
    Rollison went downstairs much more quickly than he had come up. Two or three people greeted him, and he waved, but went on. The scarlet gleam of the Bristol streaked out of the gateway, accompanied by grins of the men on duty and the scowling drivers of three taxis and a bus who