The Toff on Fire Read Online Free Page B

touching pink cheeks, seeking tiny hands. Rollison stared ruefully at the girl as Wylie moved ponderously towards him, and said: “Take no notice of her.”
    â€œNo notice?” There was a moment’s pause, and then Rollison grinned. “I certainly shall, that girl has a quick mind.”
    â€œNot offended?”
    â€œIf she means exactly what I think she means, I ought to feel highly complimented.” Rollison said, and was relieved to see Wylie’s stern face pucker into something near a smile. “Sadly, things are not always what they seem. Hold the fort for a few minutes, will you? Don’t let anyone telephone.” He went to the door, opened it, and bent down, studying the lock with great care. Wylie came towards him, interestedly. “Neat job,” Rollison observed, “whoever did that is a craftsman and there aren’t many of them today.”
    â€œDid what?”
    â€œBroke in.”
    Rollison said that while getting up and dusting his knees, but Esmeralda spun round, her face ablaze with excitement, the baby quite forgotten.
    â€œRolly, is that what happened? Did someone break in here? Why, they might have—”
    â€œLeft a small atom bomb behind,” said Rollison, and then chuckled. “Perhaps they did. Like to come with me, Esmeralda?”
    â€œWhere?”
    â€œLooking for that stork.”
    â€œThat what?” She was puzzled at first, then threw up her hands in delight. “Oh, I see!” She had never seemed more gay or wide awake, and it was now half-past three in the morning. “Where shall we look?”
    â€œDownstairs, for a start.” Rollison wasted no more time on her, but opened the bureau drawer and took out a flashlight, then went towards the landing door. Esmeralda was already there. He gripped her arm and squeezed, then said: “Give me half a minute, will you, there’s something I want to do.” He went ahead of her down the stairs, moving so fast that had she wanted to, she could not have caught up with him. He seemed to bound downwards like a spring uncoiling. Half-way down, he took out the pencilled note, and slackened his speed enough to read it; for this was what he wanted to do without Esmeralda’s help.
    It read:
    Â 
    The Doc’s after the kid’s mother and me.
    If he gets a chance he’ll snatch the kid.
    Â 
    That was all.
    Rollison put the note back into his pocket as he reached the ground floor. Esmeralda came floating down with a billow of black skirts and white lace and frills, for she was very feminine. She was equally eager. Rollison went to the front door, opened it, and shone his flashlight. Esmeralda bent down beside him.
    â€œSee that?” He pointed to scratches so faint that they were hardly visible. “The marks of his tool. He forced this lock and the one upstairs, left the baby, and—”
    â€œHe did?” Esmeralda’s voice was shrill with doubt.
    â€œIf there’s a woman in the world who could pick a lock like that, I’ll freely admit that I’m the baby’s father,” Rollison said, and so robbed Esmeralda of all future chances of being sly and obscure. “I doubt if there are six men in London who could do it this way, without damaging the lock.” He turned towards the street, where the darkness was greater now because only one other window showed any light, and the street lamps were a long way from Number 22. He shone the torch down on the steps leading to the front door, on to the pavement, on to the kerb. He stooped down, picked up a cigarette end, and took out his won cigarette case and put the end inside.
    â€œIs that a clue?” breathed Esmeralda.
    â€œCould be.” Rollison behaved as if he had forgotten that she was there, and sprayed the kerb and the roadway with light. There was a damp dust in the gutter, and, just behind the Rolls-Bentley, tyre marks which no one could fail to see. He bent down