The Toff In New York Read Online Free Page B

we’ll see this through. Go back to your own apartment and take that suit off - there may be spots of blood on it. Just hang it in th+e wardrobe, making sure it doesn’t touch any other clothes. Put on another suit that looks like it, if you can - if not, change completely. If there’s any blood on the inside of the room door, wipe it off - and if there’s any on the carpet, telephone me at once. Just tell me that something’s spilled; don’t talk of blood. Suite 552, remember. And incidentally” - he smiled again, and actually reassured her - ”my name is Rollison.”
    His instructions were clear enough; and something in his manner warned Valerie that she must obey.
    What else could she do?
    â€œAll - all right,” she said, and went out.
    She wondered what he would do with the man; whether he would send for a doctor, how badly the man was hurt, and - who had attacked him. Who, and how? She had heard nothing but the ringing - three short, sharp rings - and had lost her nerve.
    Never mind that.
    Had it been the wounded man who had telephoned to tell her that Wilf was in such trouble?
    She pushed the door of her own suite open, and didn’t see any red spots on the cream-coloured paint. She went inside, closed the door, and saw several small spots on the carpet; they were more brown than red, and she didn’t think anyone was likely to notice them, but she had to telephone the man - what was his name?
    Rollison, that was it; Rollison.
    She had so much to do. Too much.
    Being suddenly busy made it easier not to lose her self-control. She had to keep calm. That’s what Wilf would say, that was what her father would have said before he died. In a crisis keep calm. More people lost their heads through losing their self-control in a crisis. Keep calm. The precise instructions of the man named Rollison made that easier to achieve, too. She went into the bedroom, and looked at herself in the mirror of the huge dressing-table. There were spots of blood on the small black-and-white check, as well as several on her blouse; and, like those on the carpet, they had lost their brightness and were more brown than red. She hurried to the wardrobe, and exclaimed with annoyance because she found it empty; of course she hadn’t unpacked. What was happening to her? Keep calm.
    She took off her jacket, skirt and blouse. Her white silk slip clung to her figure, but she didn’t give her reflection a glance. She had no other two-piece like the one she had taken off, but there was a dress of the same material, and she put that on. Then she hung up the suit, with the blouse beneath it. When that was done, she went to the telephone, and asked for Suite 552.
    Rollison answered almost at once.
    â€œThis - this is Valerie Hall,” she said. “I thought - I thought I ought to tell you, a little dropped.”
    â€œOnly a little?” he asked.
    â€œYes, you’d hardly notice it.”
    â€œThen leave it,” the man Rollison said. His voice, quiet and pleasant, was almost as reassuring as her smile. “How long will your new friends be, do you know?”
    â€œBrian Conway?” She hesitated. “No, I don’t. He-he was going to try to find out where my brother was, but . . .“
    â€œHold it a moment,” Rollison interrupted, and she found herself obeying, automatically. “I haven’t time to wait now; just tell me how near I am to it. Your brother wasn’t at the airport to meet you, and Conway’s gone to look for him. You had a telephone message from a stranger saying that your brother was in trouble, and would you see the stranger right away? You said yes, and when he came he was leaning against the door.” Rollison paused, and then asked quietly: “Is that right?”
    She exclaimed: “It - it’s uncanny!”
    There was a hint of laughter in Rollison’s voice.
    â€œSome people would find another word for it,” he