Free Accuse the Toff by John Creasey Page A

going to cause trouble but you never can tell. Now let’s get on with it, Fred.’
    â€˜I’m waiting for you,’ declared the Toff’s assailant gruffly.
    Using knives which ripped through the tapestry covering of the armchairs, they stripped the arms down to the springs and searched inside. Neither of them talked while they were working and there was no sound from the other room. The chairs finished, Ibbetson’s plump face and red lips set in vexation but, beyond uttering a mild expletive, he made no comment. Together they shifted the furniture to one end of the room and rolled back a colourful Mirzapore carpet; the floor boards revealed no hiding-place, even when they moved the furniture again and tried the other end.
    Ibbetson bit his lips and went to join the others. They shook their heads at his soft-voiced question.
    â€˜It must be somewhere.’ said Ibbetson. ‘He wouldn’t have kept it in his pocket, would he?’ He hurried to Rollison and searched him thoroughly but found nothing of interest except his revolver, which was removed. That finished, he went to each room, surveyed it carefully and nodded after a few seconds, as if deciding that nothing had been overlooked. Something under an hour after they had arrived the quartet gathered in the lounge and Ibbetson sat on an upturned chair.
    â€˜We’ll have to make him talk,’ he declared roundly.
    â€˜What, here?’ demanded Fred.
    â€˜Yes, of course; we can’t take him through the streets of London like that, Fred. Where’s your common sense?’ The mild reproof administered, Ibbetson leaned forward and looked at the Toff whose head rested more naturally on the end of the settee, close to a spring which jutted though the covering and the webbing and canvas beneath. ‘He looks bad, Fred; you didn’t hit him too hard, did you? I wouldn’t like to think he wouldn’t come round.’
    â€˜He’ll come round,’ growled the thick-set man. ‘Fetch a jug o’ water, one of you.’
    Lying quite comfortably and with nothing the matter with him beyond an ache at either temple, the Toff heard the injunction, as he had heard everything which Ibbetson and the others had said since the gathering in the lounge; he had regained consciousness while the settee had been shifted for a second time and without opening his eyes had guessed what the others were doing. That the men had stayed within easy distance in order to finish their job did not surprise him; what angered him was that he had not thought of the possibility. The man who had started to follow Jolly and June Lancing had been a bait, just as the telephone call had been; and it had proved equally effective.
    The prospect of being doused with a jug of water did not appeal to him; on the other hand, the cold water would be refreshing and by then the room was uncomfortably warm; the searchers had not switched off the electric fire. He stayed there without moving while soft footsteps sounded in the flat and then, abruptly and without warning, icy water splashed over his face.
    He started and even opened his eyes; the impact came with such a surprise that he could not help himself. He recovered quickly, grunted and then settled his head down again. Through narrowed eyes he saw a man in light grey peering down at him; the next moment his head was pushed to one side as the man slapped him sharply across the face; there was no playfulness in the slap.
    The Toff’s eyes widened.
    â€˜That’s better, that’s better,’ said Ibbetson. His soft, lisping voice and plump face were at variance with the viciousness of the blow while in his voice there crept a note of harshness which alone told the Toff that it would be unwise to judge from appearances where the plump man was concerned. ‘Keep them open, Rollison, or you’ll get—another!’
    A second slap, on the other cheek, pushed Rollison’s head to the