The Toff and the Runaway Bride by John Creasey

Author:John Creasey
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Crime
Publisher: House Of Stratus
Published: 2014-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

“I’ll be away most of the next three months, the cottage and the flat are yours, old boy. If I’m coming home unexpectedly I’ll give you some warning.

Yours aye, Ralph.”

Ralph Carruthers, Barbara repeated to herself drably, as if the name really meant something. The letter was dated three weeks earlier, so Guy had carried it about with him all that time. Probably he had kept it in his wallet, and transferred it from suit to suit.

Where was he?

She went to the window, but no ladder was there; it looked as if Guy had climbed down it, then put it in its usual place.

She looked at her watch, the only thing she had worn which she hadn’t bundled up and left at Winchester Station. It was five to eight. She was surprised that she had woken so early, although at least she understood why she had felt so heavy-eyed. Now she felt as if she would never be able to close her eyes again. She went into the bathroom, hesitated and decided not to bath. She washed hurriedly, dressed in a few minutes and looked at herself in the mirror of the large oak wardrobe.

“No wonder he ran away,” she said. “I look like a schoolgirl in pants.”

She had not put on her bra, so as to look like a boy more convincingly. Well, she could, and proved it when she put the cap on, pulling it well down over her ears so that no one could see that her hair was not cut short.

She drank two glasses of cold water.

The obvious thing to do was to get in touch with Rollison, but a deep fear was driving her all the time: that the police would suspect that she was involved, and that once she was recognised, they would arrest her; or at least take her to the police-station for questioning. There were a lot of questions she did not want to answer. She wished that she could go and hide herself for days, for weeks, for months if necessary, until it was all over, and she could begin life with Guy.

She stepped to the door.

It wasn’t locked; of course, Guy could not have locked it from the outside, even if he’d gone out by the door; he had been forced to let her get out without calling for someone to let her out, for the hotel people thought Rollison was in this room.

Now all that Barbara could think of was Rollison.

She heard nothing, opened the door, stepped swiftly into the passage and closed the door again. As it closed, a maid turned the corner, making hardly a sound, carrying only some towels.

“Good morning, sir.”

Barbara grunted, deep as she could, “’Morning.”

The maid seemed to notice nothing amiss. Barbara went towards the stairs, feeling as if every door was hiding a policeman who would open it and pounce on her. She reached a landing, and a man and

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