Feathers for the Toff by John Creasey

Author:John Creasey
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: House of Stratus

Chapter Twelve

Another Visit From Lancelot Stewart

Babette showed no great inclination to talk about arsenic. In fact she sat back defiantly, more affected by mention of the poison than by anything else. He was far more concerned with what to do with the woman, and how to persuade her to talk. Now that the bungalow was out of sight he wondered whether he would not have been wiser to have kept Babette there, so that he could ask questions with less chance of interference if she took it into her head to scream. The close attention of King’s two policemen rendered the bungalow as unsuitable as the hotel, however.

There remained the hope of frightening her into talking but without threat of violence.

She sensed his preoccupation, and looked straight in front of her at the driver’s red neck and bristly grey hair. She had a good profile, but her make-up was largely responsible for her attractiveness; at a casual glance she might have looked a beauty. Actually her nose was too long and curved inwardly, and her chin too square, to rank anywhere near Sheila in looks. Yet the poise and perfection of her dress made her unusual. While talking to her he had got the impression that she was an educated woman.

He decided to keep silent; nothing was more likely to make her nervous. Even when they reached the Royal and he paid an advance to the car-hire driver, arranging for the man to be on hand later in the evening, he did not speak to Babette. The word ‘arsenic’ seemed to have robbed her of any eagerness to escape.

He led her upstairs, and was half-way up, with Babette keeping pace with him, when a man called after him, and came hurrying up.

“Excuse me, sir.” It was the reception clerk. “I’m a little uncertain about your rooms, sir. Can you tell me if the lady and the American gentleman want them reserved?”

“Yes, decidedly,” said Rollison.

“Thank you, sir. They were seen going out with their luggage, and I wasn’t sure. What about your manservant, sir?”

“I’m afraid he won’t want his room for a bit,” said Rollison.

“I quite understand, sir. Thank you.”

Rollison and Babette walked to his room. He opened the door and stood aside for her to pass. Head held high, she went inside, and then she stopped with an involuntary exclamation. Rollison put his hand to his pocket and his gun, and peered over her shoulder.

“Babette!” a man exclaimed. “Did you get—?”

“Hush!” breathed Babette.

Rollison followed her into the room and looked into the startled face of Mr. Lancelot Stewart.

Stewart had been sitting in an easy chair, and he had the gas fire on. An evening newspaper was by the side of his chair, and smoke curled from a cigarette in a long amber holder. Not a hair of the man’s head was out of place. He wore a dark grey pin-stripe suit of faultless cut, and in the centre of a maroon-coloured tie with a white pin-spot, was a small diamond pin.

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