The Toff and the Kidnapped Child by John Creasey

to take my word for it that I’ll hand over the girl in exchange for twenty thousand pounds. It’s nearly eleven o’clock,” he went on. “You haven’t a lot of time to work in.”
    Now he turned his back on Rollison, but in the wall near him was a mirror, and he could see any move that Rollison made. Rollison put a hand on the door, opened it, and stepped outside. Max, probably beaming, said something to Leah in a low-pitched voice. Leah made a gurgle of sound in reply.
    Rollison stepped outside, closed the door, and went downstairs, walking rather heavily, as if he hated being forced to leave. He reached the first landing, and almost opposite him was the open door of the bathroom. He passed this, reached the front passage, and went out into the street. He was quite sure that Max would be watching from the window. He glanced up, and saw that the gap between the side of the blind and the window was wider, and also saw a hand pulling it back. He went straight to the corner of the street. The Rolls-Bentley was being admired by a middle-aged man, who glanced at him and said: “Beautiful job, isn’t it?”
    â€œEh?” asked Rollison. “Oh, the car. Yes, isn’t it?” He saw the man’s expression change to one of startled surprise when he got in. “Good morning.” He started the engine and eased off the brake at one and the same moment, shot the car forward towards the far end of the street, turned the corner to the left, went left again, and pulled up close to that corner; round it was Marple Street. He got out of the car and slammed the door, then half-walked, half-ran, towards the guest house. By keeping close to the front of the houses there was little risk of being seen, even if Max was alive to the possibility that he would double back. Max wouldn’t miss much, but having seen him leave the house and turn the corner, he probably thought that he had won without a real fight.
    The front of the guest house was still open.
    Rollison went in, bent down and slipped off his shoes, and hurried silently up the stairs. As he neared number 7, he heard a sound that surprised him, and he paused on the landing. The sound was repeated: laughter. He drew on his shoes and stepped towards the door. Max and Leah were laughing as if at the best joke in the world; Max was nothing if not a character. The girl began to squeal, breathless with laughter, and gradually words formed themselves. “Don’t, Max. Oh, Max, don’t! Max, don’t!” She was almost hysterical, and there was little doubt that Max was tickling her. This might be exactly the right moment to go in, they were so preoccupied; but there would be a restriction of movement inside the room. Rollison stood flat against the wall so that when the door opened he would be able to stretch out a hand and grab Max; or stretch out a leg, and trip him. The laughter was now a series of gasps, the kind which was almost agonising.
    Then, while Leah was gasping for breath, Max said: “Okay, Leah, I’ll give you a break. But next time don’t let me catch you with your pants down.” He seemed quite good-humoured and on top of the world. “I don’t think Rollison will come and see you again, but if he does you don’t know a thing more.”
    â€œWell, I don’t anyway,” Leah managed to say.
    â€œThat’s right, you don’t,” agreed Max.
    Undoubtedly, he was smiling that beaming smile. Rollison heard him come across the room towards the door, and flattened himself against the wall so that there was no risk of being seen when the door opened, unless Max was still suspicious and wary, and peered out before he stepped outside. There would still be time to catch him before he could take any action – unless he carried his gun at the ready. He might do that. Rollison felt the now familiar sense of apprehension, admitting to himself that the next move was quite