Free The Toff on Fire by John Creasey

against him, as if in desperation.
    â€œNo! Don’t—don’t go in there!”
    â€œI assure you that it’s quite habitable,” Rollison said, “in fact it’s fairly comfortable, even though you aren’t likely to experience—” He paused. “ What did you say?”
    â€˜I won’t’, or ‘don’t’?”
    There was the fear, naked fear on the big face and in the pale grey eyes.
    â€œI—I—I—” the man began, and then he wrenched himself free and dashed for the stairs again, as if he could sweep Rollison and all opposition aside. Rollison stopped him with a short arm jab to the stomach, then gripped his right arm again and pulled it behind him and thrust it upwards in a hammer-lock. Now the man was helpless; if he didn’t go wherever he was pushed, his arm would break.
    â€œForward, ever forward,” said Rollison firmly, “and don’t try any more tricks.”
    â€œDon’t go in there,” the man screamed, “don’t go in, you won’t come out alive!”
    Rollison stood quite still, with his prisoner still held in that unbreakable lock, only a foot or two from the door which he had been about to open. He felt a cold shiver running up and down his spine; it was a long time before he had felt as shaken as this. The fear in the man’s voice was so shrill that he did not doubt that he told the truth; that at least he believed that if he went into the flat, he wouldn’t come out alive.
    Rollison asked, coldly: “Why?”
    â€œThere—there’s a trap!”
    â€œWhat kind of trap?”
    â€œIf—if you open the door wide—”
    â€œGo on, or you’ll really get hurt.”
    â€œIf you open the door wide, it will—it will work like a flame gun!”
    Rollison felt more coldness creeping along his spine, being quite sure that this was true.
    â€œWho put it there?”
    â€œWe—we—we—”
    â€œYou and your gallant friend who ran out on you?”
    â€œWe had to!”
    â€œI’ve heard that kind of I-didn’t-mean-to-do-it story before,” said Rollison, and eased his neck again. “Would you like to know something? I don’t believe you.” He started to push again, but as he did so the man back-heeled, and then tried to struggle, as if he would risk a broken arm or any other injury, would do anything at all to avoid going into that room.
    â€œWell, well,” said Rollison. “How is it rigged?”
    â€œOn—on—the wall above the door. There’s—there’s a release catch when the door opens.”
    â€œAnd it will fall down and explode, is that it?”
    â€œYes!”
    â€œIf that’s the case, why did you come up the stairs when you expected me to open the door and be blown to bits?”
    â€œWe—we wondered what was up, whether you suspected—”
    â€œSuspected what?”
    â€œWhether—whether you suspected the trap. We wouldn’t have come near enough to be hurt, the stairs would have saved us.”
    That was reasonable; and it coldly underlined his fear.
    â€œMost interesting,” observed Rollison. “I’ll watch you burn under your own firecracker.” He tightened his grip on the man’s arm so much that the other could only stand there, a foot or two away from the door, his head twisted round so that he could stare at Rollison and beseech him.
    â€œDon’t make me go in there, don’t make me go!”
    Rollison said, softly: “Did the Doc send you?”
    â€œYes!”
    â€œHow did he know that I was after him.”
    â€œHe—he—he—he—”
    â€œI heard that part, and don’t hold out because of what the Doc might do to you. If I don’t get all the answers I shall push you into that room. I can, you know. How did he know?”
    â€œHe—he had a man watching Rickett, Rickett