The Toff and the Kidnapped Child by John Creasey Page B

said, hating the need to give greater cause for fear. “The driver of the car got away. He may not have intended murder, but it was a murderous assault.” He was watching her all the time, sharing her distress, admiring how she fought against breaking down. “I’ll have to tell the police and ask them to keep it from the newspapers. I think they will, so I don’t think the people who have taken Caroline need know that the authorities have been told, but there’s no certainty.”
    â€œI see,” Eve said stonily. “You must do what you think best.”
    â€œHave you thought of anything that might explain what has happened?”
    â€œOnly – ransom.”
    â€œHave you the slightest idea who might be behind it?”
    â€œNo,” Eve said. “No idea at all.”
    â€œWould they be likely to try to get ransom from your husband as well?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œHe isn’t rich,” she answered, and her eyes closed for a moment; Rollison thought that she would faint. “He has a good income, that’s all.”
    â€œIs he a private consultant?”
    â€œNo,” she told him. “He’s a consultant with Colfax World Advertising. He travels for them, he—” She broke off. “Are you—are you sure that talking to the police wouldn’t make things worse for Caroline?”
    â€œEve,” Rollison said, “we can’t be positive about anything, except that the police will help all they can. You needn’t be present when I tell them.”
    â€œI’d rather know everything that’s going on,” she said.
    Dawson, the policeman whose name was Moss, and the three women were all back in the big, square room while the whole story was related. Once he knew that he was being told everything, Dawson became prosily cooperative, and there must have been some measure of reassurance for Eve in his words. A widespread search was already on for the Super Snipe as a result of the Yard’s request. He, Dawson, had been in touch with the police of all the neighbouring counties. Rollison’s description of the Hillman which had run Jeff down had already been telegraphed to all nearby police stations, and all small cars on the road would be searched and all Hillmans examined.
    â€œWe can deal with this simply as a hunt for a man who ran down one of our men,” explained Dawson carefully. “It need not be connected with your daughter’s disappearance, yet, Mrs Kane. Except in case of dire emergency, it never will be.” He seemed a little ill-at-ease when he looked across at her. “Mr Rollison, I’ve had that envelope tested for prints, and there are only three sets – Miss Ellerby’s, Mrs Higgs’s and Miss Abbott’s. The address must have been written by someone wearing gloves. From what I’ve seen of this card, the same can be said of that.”
    â€œYou mean they don’t help?” Eve asked.
    â€œWe cannot assume that by a long way,” Dawson said didactically. “There are a dozen ways that it can be of assistance, and—” He paused momentarily, for the telephone bell rang, an unexpected thing so late at night. Miss Ellerby stepped across and lifted the receiver with obvious impatience.
    â€œMiss Ellerby speaking . . . Yes, he is,” she said at once, and looked at Rollison. “It’s a London call, Mr Rollison, for you.”
    That could only be the Yard.
    â€œThanks,” Rollison said, and took the receiver while everyone in the room stared expectantly. “Rollison speaking . . . Oh, yes, Nick?”
    Superintendent Marshall said sharply: “Is your inquiry about a Super Snipe connected with the running down of that policeman at Hapley?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œThen I want to know exactly what’s on.” Marshall was even sharper.
    â€œThe local police will brief you. I told them directly their