Free Salute the Toff by John Creasey

here—”
    â€œA case of mistaken identity, George.”
    â€œAh’m Harry, if ye don’t mind.”
    â€œOf course not, George,” said the Toff. He talked for some thirty seconds, showing a real grasp of the essentials. He had wondered how Lorne had left London without the attentions of Bert Ebbutt’s men; but it had not happened. Lorne had been followed to the airfield, and Bert had telephoned Manchester friends to watch for his arrival. A slight mishap, and then misapprehension – and Lorne was at large in Manchester. Harry and his companion were full of apologies.
    â€œIt fitted in with what I wanted,” Rollison said, and meant it. “But if you want to try to help, get some friends—as many as you like—and have the airfield and the stations watched for the man who got away. Will you?”
    â€œAh will that!” said Harry dubbed George.
    He went, with his companion, at the double; and the Toff went downstairs, paying Lorne’s bill to prevent an inquiry. Lorne, it proved, had booked a room by telephone and had arrived in at three o’clock that morning, omitting to sign the register after booking the room under the name of Williams. But, what was more important to the Toff and Harrison, the maids and the waiters at the Queen’s remembered ‘Mr. Draycott’ well. A tall, thin, dark-haired gentleman who had arrived late three nights before. On the previous night he had had dinner in his room again – he had taken all his meals there. And he had asked for his bill early that morning.
    â€œBut Draycott’s fair-headed, Rollison,” Harrison said. “It was someone else, and that means Draycott is dead.” This when they were in Room 41, which the Toff was allowed to use after saying that he was proposing to wait for Draycott, but if the latter did not arrive he would pay the bill.
    The Toff said sharply: “Draycott’s what?”
    â€œFair-headed. Almost blond, in fact.” And then the Toff said slowly: “He is, is he? Well, the poor beggar at the flat was as dark as I am, so Draycott probably isn’t dead.”
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Chapter Ten
Talk Of Draycott
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    Harrison, sitting on the edge of the bed, stared at the Toff as if he could not believe his ears, and then said clearly that he had never come across such nonsense. Why hadn’t the Toff said that the dead man was dark? Fay would have been saved a lot of anxiety.
    â€œIt didn’t occur to me,” said the Toff. “I’m sorry about Fay. However, it was prima facie evidence which failed us for once, but it makes the problem greater. Where is Draycott, if he’s not dead and hasn’t been here?”
    â€œThe Lord knows,” said Harrison. “What are we going to do now?”
    â€œWe’ll wait for George’s report—or was it Harry?—and then we’ll get back to London. I hope,” added the Toff very slowly, “that we didn’t make a mistake in letting the girls go off on their own. If I’ve been followed so freely, they might also have been.”
    Harrison stared with increasing anxiety.
    â€œRollison, Fay’s not in danger, is she?”
    â€œI hope not,” said the Toff. “But I’ve committed a grave sin of omission. What time is it?”
    â€œHalf past seven.”
    â€œI’ll call Anthea,” said the Toff.
    There was little delay on the call to Kensington, but Anthea did not answer. Jamie, her husband did. No, there had been nothing out of the ordinary at 1023 Bayswater Road, and the two girls were sharing a room. Was he quite sure? Hadn’t he seen them when he had said good night to his Anthea?
    â€œOh, all right,” he said when the Toff insisted that he look in the room again. “But I wish you wouldn’t make such a fuss, Rolly.”
    He was away only for a few seconds, and then said: “Ay, they’re both there and sleeping soundly. You