Free Accuse the Toff by John Creasey

office,’ said Rollison lightly. ‘Work diligently and go with Miss Lancing to the office, to lunch and escort her back here when you’ve finished.’ He looked at the girl, whose chin was thrust forward but who made no objection and added to her: ‘That’s the one condition. Will you keep it?’
    â€˜Oh, I’ll fit him in somewhere,’ said June disparagingly. ‘He’ll be helplessly slow, it needs practice but—’ She stopped abruptly and surprised Rollison by the sudden warmth of her expression and her eyes. ‘But I’m being a beast; it’s really generous of you. Of course, he’ll be invaluable.’
    â€˜Thank you, miss,’ said Jolly. His eyes were pained as he regarded Rollison’s uncompromising face. ‘If you really require it, sir, I will get my hat and coat. I was about to prepare breakfast but—’
    â€˜I haven’t time to eat,’ said June.
    Five minutes later Rollison watched them walking along the street, the girl hurrying, clad in a mink coat which had been in one corner of the lounge and making Jolly lengthen his normal sedate stride. The sight of the precise, black-clad servant and the hatless, eager girl amused Rollison and yet his smile was tinged with uncertainty. Then it grew set, for he saw a man walk in the wake of the couple, a man who had been walking much more slowly a few seconds before.
    â€˜This is going to be another unpopular day for me at the office,’ he said, sotto voce.
    Grabbing his greatcoat he hurried out of the door with one arm in a sleeve and the other pulling the door to. Although he saw the man who sprang from the shadows of the landing, he could do nothing to save himself from a heavy blow on the side of the head which half-stunned him and sent him pitching forward. He banged his head again when he struck the floor and lost consciousness after another blow on the left temple. He had a momentary image of his attacker, short, dark clad, with an arm up raised, before everything faded.
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Chapter Seven
Ibby On The Job
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    The thick-set assailant wasted no time in looking at the Toff but bent down and unceremoniously dragged him back into the flat, feet first. He returned to the passage and pulled the door to, waiting and listening. No doors opened below and there was no indication that the tenants of the other flats had been disturbed. The man went down the first flight of stairs to a landing window and glanced out. He raised his thumb and was seen by a man walking on the far side of the street. In a few seconds the second man had joined the first and in a space of three minutes two others also arrived.
    Then the flat door was closed and locked.
    Amongst the company was a small, plump man, dressed neatly in light grey. His cheeks were rosy and shining, his blue eyes smiled and he gave the impression of being in the best of good tempers. Removing a velour hat he ran a pink palm over dark hair lined with grey and said in a soft, persuasive voice: ‘Now boys, let’s get along with it; we haven’t a lot of time. Ibby’s on the job, remember, and we mustn’t fall down on it. What didn’t we do?’
    The thick-set man said: ‘We were going to start on the arms of the chairs.’
    â€˜That’s right, so we were.’ There was the faintest of lisps in Ibbetson’s voice. ‘Charley, you and Mike go into the dining-room; Fred and me will do the lounge.’ He sent the other couple into the farther room, large men, although neither of them would have been noticed in a crowd, and glanced down at Rollison. ‘We’d better take him with us, Fred.’
    The thick-set man grunted and together they lifted the Toff and carried him to the settee where June Lancing had rested not long before. His head lolled backwards unnaturally and his lips were slightly open.
    â€˜What a cinch,’ said Ibbetson, with a gentle chuckle. ‘I thought he was