A Mask for the Toff by John Creasey

Leon. Wait outside.”
    The man obeyed as promptly as the girl had obeyed Rollison at his hotel. The door closed silently. De Vignon still held Rollison’s card, and glanced down at it again.
    â€œDo sit down, Mr. Rollison. I see you are quite an artist. What is this little drawing supposed to represent?”
    â€œOh, that. That strikes terror,” said Rollison amiably. “Didn’t you know?”
    â€œI know you are out of your element in Paris.”
    â€œReally? A bullet kills in Paris as well as in London, and bad men go to prison in both places for more or less the same kind of thing. Of course, we hang the worst and you guillotine them, but I don’t think that makes much difference in the long run. How’s Mademoiselle Blanc?”
    â€œCharming and beautiful, as ever. And she tells me that she gave you my message. I received yours. Why did you come, after asking me to see you?”
    â€œI couldn’t be sure you’d accept the invitation,” said Rollison. He sat down and stretched out his legs. The coat and stick were by his side, within reach. He took out cigarettes, and saw the other’s eyes narrow, almost in alarm; that faded when Rollison lit up. “Nice little place you have here. There’s always a fortune in crime for the lucky ones, isn’t there?”
    â€œThere is always a fortune in fools,” said de Vignon, in the same friendly voice, “and that is how I make mine, Mr. Rollison. You, however, are not a fool. You have a young lady in your care who was foolish enough to run away when” – he shrugged – “it was in her best interests, and mine, to stay in Paris. However, she is not likely to do me any harm while in London, and I do not think she will be foolish enough to say anything which might harm her—or harm me. Go back and look after her, Mr. Rollison, and you will not meet any more difficulties. I believe that certain mutual friends did inconvenience you in London, but they won’t again. They were most ill-advised. Just return and look after your protégée, and be a sensible man.”
    â€œOr else?” murmured Rollison.
    De Vignon smiled blandly.
    â€œThis is a strange city, Mr. Rollison, and you know it only as a visitor.” He stood up, went across to the chair, and picked up the stick. He swung it, like a club, and took it back to his desk. “Paris is so gay, enchanting, amusing. But it has its ugly sides, and you are close to one of them now. Don’t get any closer.”
    Rollison said: “I see.” He got up leisurely, and again the big man’s eyes narrowed, and his right hand hovered near a bell-push at the side of the door. “I’ll be on my way,” said Rollison, and reached the door and turned the key in the lock. He turned, looking amiable. “Now I’m on my way back, and we can’t be interrupted so easily. What were you saying?”
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Chapter Eleven
And Takes His Leave
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    Rollison dropped the door-key into his pocket. De Vignon, with a taut smile, picked up Rollison’s gun, and while holding it, opened a drawer and took out another. Then he placed both on the table in front of him, and picked up the knife.
    â€œThis is a barbaric-looking weapon, Mr. Rollison.”
    â€œYour mistake. You should know what it is.”
    â€œAnd what is it?”
    â€œA cracksman’s tool. Any cracksman worth his union rate could—”
    â€œCracksman?” de Vignon frowned, as if this skirmish were important. “I don’t quite understand what—oh, of course ! I had forgotten your Raffles. You mean, it is a thief’s equipment.”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œAre you a thief?”
    â€œSupposing we don’t go into that too closely,” murmured Rollison. “You’d hate to embarrass me. If I can’t get into places where I want to get in, that little gadget helps a lot. I’ve had a lot