John Creasey - The Toff on The Farm
The coppery-haired young man dodged to one side, out of immediate danger. To get at him, Lodwin swung round, oblivious of Gillian’s nearness, and he bumped into her. She staggered to one side, while Lodwin leaped to attack again; but now it was not so easy. The younger man fended him off with a blow on the nose, then seemed to twist his body and writhe closer to his assailant. In a moment they were tangling again, but now she had no doubt who would win.
“If you don’t stop it,” she cried, “I’ll send for the police !”
They ignored her.
She swung round and rushed to the telephone, but as she lifted it, and while she looked over her shoulder, she saw Lodwin’ rock back on his heels and fall heavily. He lay on his back for a moment, eyelids fluttering, making no attempt to get up. The tall young man was breathing quickly as he looked first at his victim and then at Gillian.
“I’m real sorry about that,” he said, and then realised that she was holding the telephone. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m calling the police.”
The victor looked flabbergasted, but moved swiftly, reached her side, gently but firmly wrested the telephone from her, and put it down as she heard the operator answer. He kept a hand on her wrist as he looked upon her, shaking his head emphatically. ^^
“We don’t want to call the cops for a little private fight, he declared,
“I thought he was going to kill you!”
“Sure, and for a minute I did, too,” said the other, “but he thought better of it, and that gave me time to try to kill him.” He let her go, and smiled down at her; he had eyes which crinkled at the comers, and made him look perhaps nearer thirty-five than twenty-five, and his smile was most attractive. “But the fight’s finished now. I’m sorry you saw it.”
“Why did you spill the water over him ?”
“Now, ma’am, don’t blame me for that,” the tall American protested; “accidents will happen, even to a Texan in England. What was his final offer for the farm?”
Gillian didn’t answer.
“Did I hear him say twelve thousand ?”
“If you knew, why trouble to ask me?” Gillian felt annoyed, exasperated, and even foolish because she had been so near absolute collapse. Her legs felt weak again, and she longed to sit down. She thought of Alan for the first time since that whirlwind fight; Alan was still absent, and the voice of the man on the telephone seemed very close to her ears again. “. . . or he might get hurt.” She remembered everything more vividly, including the warning that she must tell no one that Alan was missing.
“If he offered twelve thousand pounds, or close on thirty-five thousand dollars, he must want that farm building mighty bad,” observed the man who claimed to come from Texas.
Gillian backed to a chair and sat down.
“Apparently he isn’t the only one.”
“No, ma’am, there are the two of us,” the coppery-haired young man agreed, and gave his most winning smile. “Well, you’re a business woman, and you won’t listen to a lower offer, I guess. I’ll go to twelve thousand five hundred pounds, but you’ll have to wait some weeks for your money, I could give you one thousand pounds as a down payment, and the balance “
“In a hundred years’ time,” barked the man on the floor.
He was getting up slowly and watching the Texan warily. His right side of his chin was slightly swollen, and one of his eyes looked puffy, too, but that was the only outward sign of the fight.
“Did I hear you say something?” inquired the Texan, mildly.
“I said you would pay the balance in a hundred years, which as far as Miss Selby is concerned means never. I repeat my offer. Miss Selby, and there is no reason why the contract should not be drawn up over night, in fact this very afternoon. I would pay cash, in full, against your signature. I hope you will be sensible enough to take it.”
Twelve thousand pounds in cash ?
Gillian didn’t speak, but there was the conflict of whispers again.
Twelve thousand pounds . . . or he might get hurt.
“You want to know something,” said the Texan. “You fascinate me, Mr. Lodwin. You have the oddest way of making a young lady want to oblige you. You ought to take a correspondence course in how to impress a customer. If I read Miss Selby aright, she wouldn’t sell to you even if you piled the twelve thousand pounds up on that table in front of her eyes. Would you, Miss Selby?”
“I should have to consult my brother before making any decision,” Gillian said almost desperately.
“That makes sense,” the Texan approved.
“Surely you have authority to make such a decision on your own. The farm is yours, not your half-brother’s, isn’t it?” Lodwin was even more sharp-voiced than ever; and he also knew the truth.
Gillian disliked him very much. If she had to choose which one of these men to sell to, it would be the Texan every time, except for one thing : ready money. The money would be equally divided between her and Alan, that had always been understood between them, and it would make a fortune for each. Six thousand pounds. But Alan was—
“Where is your brother?” inquired the coppery-haired young man.
“He’s out.”
“When will he be back?” demanded Lodwin.
“I don’t know.”
“Come, come, surely you have some idea when he will return?”
The Texan laughed spontaneously.
“I guess the best way I can make sure of getting that farm is to leave you two together for a while. At the end of half an hour I imagine you wouldn’t have a chance,” he said to Lodwin. “That’s exactly what I’ll do.” He drew nearer Gillian, smiled down on her, and went on : “I forgot to introduce myself, Miss Selby. Just call me Tex, everyone back home does that. I don’t want to make a nuisance of myself, but I’m prepared to take a chance that you’ll give me an opportunity to buy that farm. Right now I’ve some other business to attend to, but I’ll be back. You can be sure of that.”
She didn’t know whether she wanted him to go or not. She certainly did not want to be left alone with Lodwin, but beyond that, couldn’t really be sure what she did want.
She said: “I should have to wait for my brother before making any decision, so why don’t you both come back this afternoon?”
“Suits me, ma’am, suits me fine,” the Texan said.
“I see no point in postponing the decision,” interposed Lodwin nastily. “Obviously what you really mean is that you want another bid. Very well. I have the contract of sale in my pocket. I have a thousand pounds in cash, and my cheque for fourteen thousand pounds will be met if you make special clearance arrangements before three o’clock this afternoon. You stand to take no risk at all, Miss Selby. Why don’t you stop being foolish, and sign ?”
He actually took a large envelope out of his pocket. It was badly crumpled at one comer, and a little crumpled everywhere, but somehow had an imposing look. It must have been a very tight fit in his pocket. He unsealed it, and stepped to the table, then shook out the contents. Five-pound notes began to fall out, not in ones and twos, but in dozens. They showered upon the table in a little hillock of paper money. The last thing to fall was a folded sheet of paper.
William T. Brandt seemed as fascinated by the cascade of notes as Gillian. When the paper stopped sliding and rustling, each stared as if hypnotised, while Lodwin looked triumphantly into Gillian’s face, his expression making it clear that he was certain that she could not hold out any further.
He didn’t know the difficulty with Old Smith, Gillian thought.
He couldn’t possibly know that the farmhouse was worth no more than five thousand, could he ?
“Miss Selby,” remarked the Texan, “that’s a large sum of money, and I come from a State where they respect money and a good business-man. I guess you’re a good businesswoman. If you are, then you’ll be asking yourself right now why it is this fat creep is ready to pay you fifteen thousand pounds for property which isn’t worth a penny more than ten thousand? I guess there must be some good reason. If you take my advice you’ll try to find out what it is before you close any deal with him.”
Lodwin now glared at the Texan.
Gillian actually shivered.
That was as much because of the expression in the dark-clad man’s eyes as anything. He looked as if he could kill; looked as if he was ready to kill just then. His right hand had moved towards the inside breast pocket of his coat. It stayed there. The Texan watched him steadily, and it was almost as if he was willing him not to thrust his hand further inside the jacket.
The two men seemed to have forgotten Gillian.
Ten minutes ago, they had fought that swift, bitter battle with their fists. Now it seemed as if they were fighting with their eyes and their minds, and that it could be just as deadly. She wished they were a thousand miles from here. That telephone voice intruded again, with everything that it implied. Gillian was completely confused, although she knew that the Texan was right: before she made any decision, she ought to know why these men thought that the farm was of such value.
When she knew that, she might know why these men wanted it.
Then the tension eased.
“I’ll be seeing you,” the Texan said. “Goodbye for now, ma’am.” And then for no reason at all he added: “You bet.” He turned and strode to the door and a moment later went outside and he didn’t once look back. Gillian stared at the window as he passed; and this time she couldn’t see his hair, only the lower part of his face. She heard him striding away, footsteps sharp and clear; then they stopped, and a car door slammed.
“Now perhaps you will be good enough to take the sensible course, and sign this contract of sale,” said Lodwin in a thin voice.
He unfolded the document and handed it to her.
The engine of the green M.G. started off.
“And directly you have signed it, I’ll give you my cheque for the balance,” Lodwin went on.
Gillian didn’t read the contract, but looked at him, and asked :
“Why do you want the farm so badly?”
“I want it for my principals who wish to buy not only this but other property in the neighbourhood,” said Lodwin, so brusquely that it was easy to believe that it was true. “They are aware, as no doubt that young American is aware, that the value of the land in this vicinity will rise sharply in the near future, because of certain road and town planning developments. You may have read of them in the newspapers. My principals know that these developments will in fact take place. They could have offered you the present market value price for your property and so swindled you. They preferred to give a good offer, so that there would be no recriminations in the future. That is the simple reason, Miss Selby. I will go further. There are others who would like to buy this property for the same reason. In short, my principals and others are competing for it. However, mine are far more dependable, and have much more capital. We will never allow ourselves to be out-bidden. I may tell you that I was authorised to go up to fifteen thousand pounds without further consultation with my principals, and I think it unlikely that they would be willing to go seriously higher. I think the price a generous one. Your brother is hardly Likely to object to such a sale, so——”
He rustled the paper as he held it over the little mountain of notes, and at the same time took a fountain pen from his pocket. It was obvious that he did not seriously think that Gillian would refuse, as obviously he believed that the Texan had left because he knew that there was no hope for him.
And Alan certainly wouldn’t complain.
“Allow me to make one further commitment on behalf of my employers,” went on Lodwin. “If you receive a better offer than mine in the next forty-eight hours, we will match the offer, and add five hundred pounds to it. I will write that undertaking on the contract. Allow me.”
He put the document on the table, and then began to write with a bold, flowing hand, using jet black ink from an old-fashioned fountain pen.
He finished, signed the document with a flourish, and handed it to her. At that very moment, a car sounded at the end of this road, the third one in less than an hour. It might be Alan! Gillian pushed the document aside and stepped swiftly to the window. Lodwin followed her, document in hand.
“Were you expecting another caller?” he demanded, sharply.
“No, not yet,” she said, and watched a scarlet car streak along, its top showing above the hedge, the thin hedge itself looking as if it were shielding a river of blood. Then she remembered seeing a car exactly like that before. It came into sight, very fast, and for a moment looked as if it was bound to crash into the house. But it didn’t. It missed Lodwin’s car by an inch, the corner of the cottage by two inches, a rose bed by three inches and the small lawn by about an inch and a half. As it quivered to a standstill, the driving door opened and a tall man climbed out and uncoiled himself; he was startlingly handsome and youthful-looking.
Gillian had seen this man, Rollison, only once before : when she had been to the hospital to see Monty.
She saw Monty now, about to open his door.
She found herself fascinated by Rollison, whom she knew better by his reputation and the soubriquet of the Toff. In a queer way, she felt anxiety lose its sharpness, as if this man was already shouldering troubles for her.
Then she turned to look at Lodwin.
He was not there.
4
DISAPPEARING TRICK
There was Rollison, already half way towards the door, and waving to her. There was Monty, out of the car and hurrying as well as he could in the taller man’s wake. There were the two cars. But there was no sign of Lodwin, although only a second or two before he had been standing there with the document waiting for Gillian’s signature. The pile of money was still there. She went swiftly to the kitchen, but there was no sign of him. She heard the front door open, for she had not locked it, and then Rollison came in, stooping beneath the low lintel of the door, and smiling at her as he greeted :
“Sorry we’re late. Is he back?”
“Is who——” she began, and then realised whom he meant, and felt appalled because in that very moment she had forgotten that Alan had disappeared. She saw the surprise on Rollison’s face at her question, and went on hastily : “No, he isn’t, but I hardly know whether I’m on my head or my heels, so much has happened.”
“Leave it all to the Toff,” boomed M.M.M. from the doorway. Then he inquired, his voice becoming shrill: “What’s on? Has it been raining money?”
Gillian said: “I know, I’m absurd, but—well, a man was with me just now, he left it.” She stared up at the ceiling, as if wondering whether Lodwin was upstairs. “Now he’s vanished.”
“What man was this?” asked Rollison.
“The Johnny of the car?” asked M.M.M.
“Yes,” answered Gillian. “He—oh, it’s a fantastic story! I don’t know where to begin, except that—well, he was here. By the window. He wanted me to sign a deed of sale, and offered this as a deposit. Then he saw you, and vanished. I didn’t hear a sound,” she added, aware of M.M.M.’s puzzled glance, and the way Rollison was looking, as if he was trying to read her thoughts.
