The Toff and the Kidnapped Child (4 page)

 

Rollison trod on the brake and the tyres squealed and he and Eve were thrown forward. She banged her head on the windscreen, and he heard her gasp. The car, vivid in the headlights, had turned in the direction that they were going, and seemed to be moving fast. It might be a lunatic of a driver; or it might have been done deliberately, to slow him down and to stop him.

Brake lights went on.

The nose of the Rolls-Bentley and the tail of the leading car were only two yards apart, now, but there was no danger of a heavy collision. The leading car was still slowing down, as if the driver were set on stopping them. Eve was sitting back with a hand at her head, as if she were dazed; too dazed, perhaps, to be frightened.

Rollison swung his wheel, missed the bumper of the car ahead by a fraction of an inch, and roared past it. He saw the gargoyle-like face of the man at the driving seat, looking as if he had a hand on the door, ready to open it, but terrified that it should be smashed out of his grasp. Another face was staring from the far side of the car. Rollison said: “Sorry”, and swung the wheel again, so that he was in front and only a few yards ahead of the second car. He stopped, and said: “Are you all right?”

“Yes, it's made me a bit dizzy, that's all.”

“I'll go and see if I can make that driver dizzy,” Rollison said grimly.

“No, please don't! It will lose time.”

“I won't let it,” Rollison assured her, and opened the door and swung out on to the road. There was still a possibility that it was no accident, but a deliberate attempt to stop him. If so, he wanted to see the driver, a quick counter-attack now could save a lot of trouble later on. There was no need for Eve to know that he half expected danger – it would be bad enough if she had to know about it if it were true. If it were, he was a sitting bird; but he kept close to the side of the road, watching closely. There was no move from the car. When Rollison reached it, the driver was still sitting at the door, but the window was down.

“What the hell are you playing at?” Rollison demanded.

“S-s-sorry,” the driver muttered, and he still looked scared. “I thought you were further away.”

“You could have killed us as well as yourself.”

“Yes, I—I know. I'm sorry.”

It was too natural to be acting; this had been just a piece of lunatic driving. The girl next to the driver looked scared, too; and they were both young.

“You might remember that you've got just one life,” Rollison said. He felt pompous, and sounded it, partly because of the anti-climax. He realised that in his mind he had almost taken it for granted that the driver had deliberately set out to stop him. “Good night.”

He was halfway back to his own car before the response from the couple in the car came. He got in next to Eve, who didn't speak until he had started off again. Then she said: “Did you think they did that deliberately?”

“I thought it just possible.” He put his foot down harder, and the needle spun round to the sixties. “In the kind of crime I'm used to working on, that sort of thing does happen often, and the wise thing is to assume that it was deliberate.” He still sounded pompous, and wished that he didn't: he wanted to impress Eve Kane well. “It didn't take a minute, did it?”

“No.”

“How's your head?”

“The bump started it aching again, but I'll be all right. How long will it be before we reach the school?”

“About half an hour.”

“I'll take your advice again, and close my eyes.”

“Do that,” said Rollison.

Eve seemed to settle back in the luxurious seat, and he stared at the winding road ahead of him, seeing the glow of lights in the sky from car headlamps. The little encounter had shaken him, because it had shown how easy it would be to do the wrong thing. Usually, he was quite sure of himself. Now, he felt doubts – and he knew that the chief reason for the doubt was anxiety not to fail this woman.

He glanced at her. The faint light from the instrument panel shone on her profile; a very lovely profile. He pictured her as he had seen her when she had first entered his room, tall, easy moving, with those wide-set blue eyes and the outward calmness concealing the depth of her distress. He put his foot down harder, getting all the speed he could. Eve did not stir, and once he wondered if she had dropped off to sleep from sheer mental and emotional exhaustion; but she moved her position slightly, and in a way which told him that she was wide awake. She didn't speak.

Twenty minutes after they had started off again, she sat up.

“That's Old Castle,” she said. “It's only a mile or two now. Do you know where the school is?”

“No.”

“I'll direct you,” she said. “When we get into the town, there's a forked road, and we take the left, past the station.”

“Thanks.” They reached the fork very soon, and as he turned left, she said: “It's the third on the right. You'll see a church on the left, and the drive to the main buildings and the headmistress's house is just there.”

Rollison sensed that she had regained her composure, as completely as she was likely to. Soon the church loomed up, the spire tall and graceful against the stars beyond.

“Now slow down – it's the second on the left. The drive goes straight to the headmistress's house, and you can park just outside it. I expect someone will be waiting for us.” Eve was doing something to her hair, Rollison realised, and he smiled faintly, then slowed down when he saw two figures appearing in the headlights, so suddenly that they startled him; then he realised that they were two women in the entrance to the school drive. He slowed down.

“There's Miss Abbott!” Eve exclaimed.

“The housemistress?”

“Yes.”

Miss Abbott looked tall and lean and grey in the light; and she was nearer the car than the other, smaller woman. A man came limping from one side as Rollison stopped, and Eve leaned out of the window.

“Is there any news, Miss Abbott?”

“I'm terribly sorry, but there isn't.”

Eve said: “Oh,” and seemed to go tense. “Has Miss Ellerby told the police?”

“Not since you specially asked that she shouldn't,” Miss Abbott answered, “but she is anxious to, just in case it isn't quite what it seems. She is waiting for you. You drive on, and I'll follow. There's no one else in the car park.”

She did not ask who Rollison was, but he noticed that the smaller, dumpier woman who had not spoken was staring at him; so was the man. The gravel of the drive crackled beneath the wheels, and the starlight showed a great stretch of open land, of lawn, and a row of smaller houses and a large building, obviously the main school building. Lights were on at two of the houses, and streamed from the front door of one of them. Rollison pulled up outside this. As he switched off the engine, he heard the footsteps of Miss Abbott and the other woman, and footsteps coming from inside the house, too; a shadow was cast near the car, and rapidly touched and then climbed up it. A massive woman appeared as Rollison helped Eve out: her voice was gruff and mannish.

“Mrs Kane,” she said, “I'm dreadfully sorry about this.”

“I'm sure you are,” Eve responded.

“I know how difficult it must be for you,” the massive woman went on, “but I really think that we ought to call the police at once. I am very deeply disturbed.”

“May we talk about the police?” asked Rollison. He knew that the woman was scrutinising him closely, and the light fell clear upon his face. There was no hint of recognition; in London he might be recognised by many people, but that was much less likely here.

“Miss Ellerby, this is Mr Rollison, who has kindly promised to help me,” Eve introduced; she still held on to her composure. “Rolly, this is Miss Ellerby, the headmistress.”

“
The
Mr Rollison?” asked Miss Ellerby, without a moment's pause. Although her large face was in shadow, it was easy to see that she was very tense. “Dare I use the soubriquet – the Toff?”

Bless her heart!

“That's right,” said Rollison lightly.

“By all accounts, you'll be able to help as much as the police,” declared Miss Ellerby. She had a very emphatic manner and the gruffly mannish voice was powerful; she might be speaking because of the feeling of tension. “Whatever you think, I must say that I feel it would be a great mistake not to go to the police. I sent Higgs, the porter, to the station to find out what he could, and there was an incident which worries me very much. But please come in. And you, Abby. Mrs Higgs, I'm sure that Mrs Kane could do with a cup of tea or coffee – which would you prefer, Mrs Kane?”

“Coffee, please.”

“Yes, m'm,” the dumpy woman said, and went round the back of the house, while Rollison followed the other women into the well-lighted passage, then into a large, square, equally well-lighted room, one wall of which was filled from floor to ceiling with books. There were several very comfortable looking armchairs; this looked a man's rather than a woman's room. “Do sit down,” Miss Ellerby said. On close inspection she proved to have a hardy looking outdoor kind of face, and very bright and rather beady blue eyes; her face was too fleshy, and so was her body, but it was firm flesh; there was nothing flabby about her.

“What was this particularly worrying incident?” asked Rollison.

Eve was stripping off her gloves, and showed no sign of wanting to sit down.

“Higgs tells me that there was only one porter on duty at the ticket barrier near the front of the station,” answered Miss Ellerby. “And when the London train came in there were only two taxis, and both drivers were waiting with their passengers on the platform – that kind of thing happens at Hapley, Mr Rollison; there is still a great sense of courtesy, and taxi drivers carry luggage. This porter, a young man named Smart, says that he saw a large car, a Humber Super Snipe 1951 model, black, draw up at the entrance to Station Lane, an alley which Caroline would probably take as it is a shortcut to the station. He says that two people got out, a man and a woman, and went to the other side of the
car
,
that is the alley side; when they drove off, he saw three people in the car. Apparently a taxi had driven up in the meantime and his attention was distracted for a few minutes, so that he didn't see anything else; but he was quite sure that there was an extra person in the car when it drove off. I
really
think you should inform the police – unless, Mrs Kane, you know what is behind this disturbing situation?”

“I don't know anything about it. I'm only frightened of what it may be.”

“Forgive me for being frank, but is there an estrangement between you and your husband?”

“Yes.”

Miss Ellerby said: “Oh dear, oh dear.” She glanced at Miss Abbott, who was in the doorway. “And you don't want scandal?”

Rollison answered: “We just want to find Caroline. May I use your telephone?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you,” Rollison said, and smiled at Eve, trying to give her some reassurance. “I think we can start a search for that car without giving anything else away yet.” He saw the hope which sprang into her eyes, and the new evidence of tension in Miss Ellerby, who had such a responsibility for the missing girl. Along the passage there was a rattle of cups. He dialled O, and Miss Ellerby said: “If it's a long distance call, just give this number and then the one you want.”

“Thanks . . . Whitehall 1212, please,” Rollison said into the telephone, then covered the mouthpiece with his hand, and said to the others: “The man in charge there tonight is an old friend of mine; he'll help. Don't be surprised if you don't quite recognise the story I'm going to tell him.” He saw Mrs Higgs come in, carrying a tray laden with cups, saucers and sandwiches, and Miss Abbott followed with the coffee. The Yard answered. “Superintendent Marshall, please,” Rollison said, and a moment later heard a man's deep voice. “Nick . . . Rollison here.”

He chuckled when the other man said: “I didn't think it would be long before you got restless again. What do you want?”

“Nick, some friends of mine have lost some valuables, and they think they were taken off in a Humber Super Snipe . . .” Rollison gave all the details, and then went on quite easily: “The car was seen at about ten o'clock at Hapley Station, and no one knows whether it was heading north or south. How well do you know the Hapley chaps? . . . Or the county coppers? . . . Yes, if you would, it would be a great help. What? . . . Oh, furs mostly, but it's the car I'm after.” He chuckled. “Thanks, I know you will . . . Leave a message for me at Hapley 97, will you?”

He rang off.

Miss Ellerby said: “It's nice to know you act as quickly as your reputation. I feel easier in my mind already.” She didn't look it. “Do sit down, Mrs Kane. Black or white coffee, Mr Rollison?” Miss Ellerby was doing her best to make sure that the whole proceedings were kept on a matter-of-fact level, and she had everything very well organised, for Mrs Higgs had gone and Miss Abbott, who had a surprisingly friendly but horse-like face, was pouring out the coffee. “I must congratulate you on one thing, Mrs Kane. I am quite sure that Caroline did not even suspect that there was any trouble at home. There are times, you know, when it is better for a child to be warned. Children are much tougher and hardier creatures than parents think. Their minds are most resilient and their emotions, too. I don't have a lot of time for some of the methods of advanced psychiatrists, you know; my experience with girls over a period of nearly thirty years is that they are born with most of the qualities they reveal, good or bad, and that only a child born with a peculiarly sensitive and abnormal metabolism really suffers any permanent scar from parental problems.” Whether she really believed that or not, she made it sound as if she did. “Do you think that Mr Kane has abducted Caroline?”