John Creasey - The Toff on The Farm

“What is that?”

“A safe containing the secret of Selby Farm, I fancy. The explanation of all the threats and violence. Now we know that, we can make a move forward. Will Brandt will probably be coming here within the next hour or so. We must have Monty here when he arrives. We can accuse them of working together and we can show them the safe. We should get a good idea of who is guilty and who isn’t, shouldn’t we?”

She didn’t answer at once.

Rollison left it to her.

“I suppose we would,” she said at last. “And at least it would be over, and we’d know the best and the worst.”

“I’ll go and get Monty,” Rollison said, “and your brother —if he wants to come.”

22

THE COMING OF WILL BRANDT

“I don’t know what the devil you’re playing at,” M.M.M. said. “I thought you’d have the sense to keep off the case now, Rollison.”

“You certainly made it clear that you wished I hadn’t been invited,” Rollison said mildly. “What changed your mind so much?”

“The crazy way you behaved.”

“There was something else.”

“I tell you I got fed up with you, and decided you were more dangerous than helpful to Gillian,” M.M.M. insisted. He was in the main room of the cottage, and the smell of the stew was much stronger now, making Rollison feel positively hungry. “Now you say she’s at the farmhouse, and Smith isn’t.”

“That’s right.”

“Why should I come, just because you want me to ?”

“You don’t have to come because I want you to,” said Rolliison, “you have to come because I’m going to make you.” He beamed. “You could spare a thought to the fact that Gillian might be in acute danger, and you——”

“I’d do anything in the world to help Gillian,” growled M.M.M., “but I’m not sure that coming with you will help her. Just because Alan’s gone into the village, that’s no reason to think you can force me to do anything, either.”

“Monty,” murmured Rollison, “you’re going to walk across to the farmhouse, and go in at the front door. That’s the easy way. Or you can come the way I did, which will be uncomfortable to say the least.”

“I’m damned if I will!”

“Because I want you to be present when the Texan comes to see Gillian again.”

M.M.M. exclaimed : “The man Brandt?”

“Yes.”

“But he’s a killer! The police are after him. It’s in all the newspapers.”

“And he’s likely to be here soon. The police will know when he arrives, and they’ll close in soon afterwards, but we’ll have time to find out just what he’s up to, and what’s been going on. You want to find out the secret of the farm, don’t you?”

“I don’t give a damn about the secret, provided I can get Gillian out of this spot,” M.M.M. growled, and then gave in. “All right, I’ll come. We’d better leave a note for Alan.”

Rollison watched while M.M.M. scribbled a note and put it on a table near the door, where Alan Selby couldn’t fail to see it. Then M.M.M. asked Rollison to hand him his jacket. Rollison felt something hard in the pocket, and slipped his hand inside.

M.M.M. carried a gun.

Rollison made no comment, and M.M.M. moved towards the back door, using a walking stick. It would take him longer to walk to the cottage than it would take Rollison to go by the copse and the tunnel.

Rollison let him go ahead, and then hurried up the stair and to the loft. He spotted the open rooflight, through which the policeman on the roof must have climbed: and there was a pair of steps immediately beneath the rooflight. Rollison went half way up, and put his head through the opening. A man—Bishop himself—was staring downwards, and had obviously seen M.M.M.

“Had any luck in spotting the bad men?” asked Rollison, sotto voce.

Bishop was so startled he nearly slipped. He turned his head, with the binoculars hanging round his neck, his face red as much from the sun as from annoyance at being caught out.

“You’ve got a nerve !”

“Don’t blame me, it was hereditary,” said Rollison, and went on almost in the same breath : “Two things, quickly. I’ve dug up a safe and it’s over in the kitchen of the farmhouse now. Lay on someone to force it, will you? And I’m expecting the notorious William Brandt at the farmhouse before long. Will you give me half an hour alone with him and the others?”

“Goddammit man, there’s a warrant out for you !”

“I could save myself by pushing you off the roof,” said Rollison, “but I’m going to risk being charged.” He saw the small walkie-talkie radio set standing on a ledge close to the detective. “Check with Grice, and ask him if it isn’t worth a smile. If you hold Brandt before he gets here and I’ve had a talk with him, let failure be on your own head.”

He dropped out of sight.

For fear Bishop would be over-zealous, he lowered the rooflight and latched it from beneath, and moved the steps. By the time he had finished, Bishop was talking to someone on the radio. Rollison hurried downstairs, went out the back way, then to the trees and the tunnel. He reached the farmhouse as M.M.M. was being admitted by Gillian.

“Hallo, folk,” greeted Rollison, making M.M.M. look round with a frown. “It shouldn’t be long before the bait brings the bad men. Seen the safe, Monty?”

“I don’t believe it exists.”

“Come and look,” invited Rollison, and took them both in to the kitchen. M.M.M. stood and stared, and looked as if he didn’t really believe what he saw. If that was an act, he did it very well indeed.

He swung round on Rollison.

“Now what makes you think that Brandt will come here?”

“I invited him.”

“You’re the biggest bighead I’ve ever met in my life ! You think you’ve only to snap your fingers, and people come running. Why, you’re crazy. He’ll never come here, and you know it.”

“I told him I’d unearthed the deadly secret,” declared Rollison in overtones of drama. “If anything will make him take a chance, that’s it.”

M.M.M. found nothing to say in reply, but poked at the safe with his walking stick.

“I’d like to know what’s worth two lives and all this fuss,” he said. “And I’ve been thinking. I’m not a bit sure that it’s any use waiting for this murderer, Brandt.” He shot an almost vindictive glance at Gillian. “He’s a smooth-tongued devil and will probably try to persuade us that black’s white. I think we ought to get out, and let the police wait here for him.”

“I think we ought to hear what he has to say,” said Gillian.

“Oh, no doubt you’ll get your way,” growled M.M.M. “I wish to God I’d never had anything to do with this. I wish I’d never fallen in love with you, too.” In that moment, he sounded almost as if he hated Gillian.

Rollison bumped against M.M.M. a moment later, taking the gun out of his pocket. It was a moment’s work to empty it.

They heard a motor-cycle outside, its engine roaring. M.M.M. turned with surprising agility towards the window, and hobbled towards it and wrenched the curtain aside. Gillian followed him. Rollison slipped the empty gun back into the other man’s pocket, then watched from the side of the window, and saw the motor-cyclist coming towards the farm, slowing down. He stopped at the gate, jumped off, and propped the machine up against the hedge. He was very tall, and his uniform suited him.

“Well, it looks as if I’m going to get my way for a change,” said M.M.M. “But why have the police sent a copper on a motor-bike ?”

“I wonder where Tex the Texan got that police constable’s uniform,” Rollison murmured.

Gillian exclaimed : “It’s Tex!”

Rollison was behind them, and saw the light which leaped into Gillian’s eyes, and noticed the glint in M.M.M.’s. Of hatred ? He saw the one-legged man drop his right hand into his pocket, and keep it there. He moved forward towards the door, glancing sideways at the bulge in M.M.M.’s pocket. He felt sure that the man was holding the gun out of sight.

How did that square ?

Rollison opened the door. Tex Brandt stood there, with his crash helmet making him look very tall indeed, a striking figure in the policeman’s blue. He smiled warmly at Rollison as he came in, and then saw Gillian. He was about to take off his helmet, but he stopped with his hand at his forehead, just to stare at her. He did not know that M.M.M. was in the room, just behind him.

“My, my, my,” he breathed. “I remembered you as beautiful, but I’d forgotten just how beautiful beauty could be. Did anyone ever tell you that you’re the most beautiful woman in the world ?”

Gillian said : “Don’t fool, Tex.”

“I’m not fooling,” he assured her. “I mean every word I say.”

He went forward.

It looked as if he would take her in his great arms.

“Don’t you touch her,” growled M.M.M,, and he drew his hand from his pocket. His automatic pistol covered the American. “Take your murdering hands away from her. If you so much as lay a finger on her, I’ll shoot you.”

Gillian exclaimed : “Monty, put that gun away!”

The Texan turned round, very slowly.

Hatred was undoubtedly the word for the look in M.M.M.’s eyes, but there was something else, for which Rollison had been looking. He found it, but as a negative. These two men did not know each other, or their reaction would have been entirely different.

“What’s all this?” Tex asked, in a calm voice. “Who’s calling me a murderer?”

“Your record is all over the newspapers. The police know you killed two men and they won’t care whether they get you alive or dead,” said M.M.M. and that viciousness was still in his voice. “Get away from her.”

“I think you must be mad, Monty.” Gillian’s voice could not have been colder. “Please put that gun away, and stop play-acting.”

“Play-acting I’ll show you who’s play-acting!” The maimed man’s eye glinted, he raised the gun a fraction, and there seemed nothing but death for the tall Texan.

“Monty!” screamed Gillian, and flung herself forward.

There was a little click; no sharp report, no flame, no bullet. The girl would have fallen had Tex not grabbed her, while Monty stood looking foolish, with the gun in his hand.

“I took the bullets out when you were poking at the safe,” explained Rollison mildly. “I wanted to make sure you didn’t do anyone any harm.”

M.M.M. didn’t speak, but all the colour drained away from his cheeks. He looked round, as if for somewhere to sit; as if he was afraid that he couldn’t stand up any longer. Then he moved to the wall and leaned against it, looked towards Gillian, and said:

“You’d even protect him with your life. Why is it? Why can’t you feel for me like you do for him ?”

The Texan was holding Gillian lightly, an arm round her shoulders.

“I just don’t know,” Gillian said, in a husky voice. “I just don’t know.” She looked up, twisting her head round so that she could see the tall man, and it seemed to Rollison that there was genuine bewilderment in her voice. “I felt exactly the same the moment I set eyes on him, although I know it doesn’t make sense.”

“It makes sense, honey,” said Tex Brandt. “It makes the kind of sense that leads to a marriage licence. Some folk wouldn’t believe it, but I felt just that way about you. I’ve been running from the police and looking for the biggest load of trouble I’ve ever known—and you were in my hair all the time, I couldn’t get you out.”

He held her more tightly.