A Mask for the Toff by John Creasey Page B

a French copy of Vogue; doubtless Jolly had obtained it for her. She smiled, fleetingly, almost blankly; but Rollison was quite convinced that her blank expression was assumed; like the loss of memory.
    â€œHow are you?”
    â€œSo very comfortable and grateful,” she said. “I feel as if I am at rest for the first time. Some thing terrible must have happened, and now—”
    She broke off.
    â€œNothing terrible will happen,” Rollison said. “I’m going away for a day or two, and—”
    â€œNo!” she cried. “No, you must not go away, you must not!”
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    The mask dropped away. She was natural again – and fear-stricken. She dropped the Vogue, and it fell noisily to the floor. She stretched out her hands, as if in supplication, and he hated the look in her eyes.
    â€œYou must not—not leave me. Please, unless you are here, I am so frightened.”
    She was frightened.
    He said: “I must go, my dear. I shall be back in two or three days; you’ve nothing to worry about. You needn’t go out of the flat until I’m back.”
    She whispered: “You—should—not—go.”
    And there was terror in her eyes; not because he was leaving her, but because she sensed where he was going and was afraid of what he would find out; or else of what would happen to him.
    She sat erect, hands stretched out pleadingly, and trembling; and her eyes were huge.
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Chapter Seven
Second Sight?
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    Rollison took her hands; they were icy cold and gripped his tightly. The girl seemed to put her very soul into the appeal.
    â€œ Please —do not go.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œThere will be danger for you.”
    â€œWhat makes you think so?”
    â€œYou should not go to Paris.”
    â€œWho said that I was going there?”
    She closed her eyes; it was as if a powerful light had been switched off. Her hands went limp, and she drew them away slowly. Without opening her eyes, she said: “I know that you are going to Paris and that you will be in grave danger. I know.”
    â€œ So you remember Paris,” Rollison said.
    â€œOh, yes, I remember Paris.”
    â€œWhat else do you remember?”
    â€œThat you have been good to me, and I do not wish you to be hurt.”
    â€œWhat makes you think I might be?”
    â€œThe danger is everywhere,” she said, “but mostly in Paris. You are foolish to go.”
    She dropped back on to her pillows, tacitly giving up hope that he would listen to her. She didn’t speak again, and didn’t open her eyes. He went outside, and brushed his hand across his forehead; it was slightly damp. The interview had been curiously affecting, almost unnerving. He laughed at himself, and moved to his desk, bent down and unlocked a bottom drawer. He took out an automatic pistol, a spare clip of ammunition and a fat knife which had a dozen blades and gadgets.
    Jolly came in, and watched him.
    â€œI think I’ll take a stick, Jolly.”
    â€œI think you are wise,” said Jolly mildly. “I will get one. Your case is packed, I have put in everything that you are likely to need.”
    He spoke like a fond aunt, and went out as the nurse came in.
    There was a forbidding expression on her angular face. Her large red nose was shiny, but this failed to make her look ridiculous.
    â€œMr. Rollison.”
    â€œYes?”
    â€œThere’s something queer about that girl.”
    â€œSo you felt it, too?”
    â€œIf I were going to Paris—” the nurse hesitated. “Is that where you‘re going?”
    â€œYes. And it would be anybody’s first guess. Don’t let her fool you, nurse. She might be very innocent, but she could be full of cunning. I don’t believe she has lost her memory; part of your job is to find out if she lets anything slip to prove she’s lying.”
    â€œShe hasn’t said anything that matters, but