The Toff And The Stolen Tresses

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Jolly

Jolly sat with Stella Wallis in the back of the large, smooth-running car which had been sent from the hire service. He had told the driver where to go, and the woman hadn’t protested, hadn’t yet spoken a word. Either events had stunned her, or she was beginning to succumb to the sleeping dose which Rollison had put into her drink.

The light from street lamps showed that her eyes were wide open. Jolly glanced at her from time to time, aware of the pleasant scent she used, and not unaware of her closeness. He kept hoping that her head would loll forward as she lost consciousness, but ten minutes after they had started out, her eyes were still wide open.

He felt her hand move into his.

She squeezed.

It was a long time since any woman had behaved like that with Jolly, and it not only startled but shook him. He drew his hand away and glanced at her less with embarrassment than with dry amusement. She was smiling at him. Her eyes were narrowed now, but open quite wide enough, and her lips were parted, too; he could see the polish of the lipstick and the gleam of her white teeth. She was a good-looking woman, and knew what she was about.

She pressed his leg, gently.

He could ease away; or he could pretend that he had noticed nothing; or he could tell her to sit back in her corner. He took the line of least resistance, telling himself that if he made no response, she would soon get tired of this little game. He stared straight ahead. She squeezed his leg gently, and then moved so that she was cuddled close against him. Her right hand went to his cheek.

She didn’t speak; but he could feel her warm breath on his face.

He sat absolutely motionless for a moment, then he freed his hand, and said with strained courtesy:

“You are wasting your time, I assure you.”

He took her hand away from his cheek, but she went on pressing close against his side, as if determined that he would not be unaware of her nearness or her charms.

“Mrs. Wallis, please be good enough to realise that this is quite pointless,” he said more firmly.

The chauffeur in front of the glass partition could not hear any of this.

“Mrs. Wallis!” Now Jolly was sharp.

She let him go, but before he realised what she was going to do, moved again, seized his face between her hands, pulled his head down, and kissed him. He felt the soft warmth of her lips, the sharpness of her teeth as he struggled to free his head, but she had him in a hold that was hard to break.

“You’re so sweet,” she said, cooingly, “you’re so quaint, darling, why don’t you relax a little? No one would mind if you just relaxed.” She kissed him again, lingeringly, and his head was still imprisoned. He could not free himself without hurting her. “Just relax, darling,” she breathed, and he could only just see her face and her eyes as she looked at him.

He could stand outside himself, as it were, and see all this, the absurdity of it, the ludicrousness. He, Jolly, in charge of this woman, helpless under her grasp, fighting against her blandishments. He felt worse than he had ever felt in his life. He must stop her nonsense, it mustn’t matter if he hurt her. He took her wrist at last, and twisted sharply, and she gasped and fell back.

“I am sorry,” he said stiffly. “You left me no choice.”

She looked at him intently, showing no resentment.

“Poor, poor darling,” she said in that soft, cooing voice. “Aren’t you allowed any life of your own? Do you have to do everything that Rollison tells you? Won’t he even let you have a kiss or a little cuddle without permission? Why don’t you be a man, Jolly?”

“This discussion is quite pointless.”

Stella Wallis gave a curiously cooing laugh, and Jolly felt its barb and knew that in a way she was right: he was behaving like a pompous prig. He had to. He was serving Rollison, and had to take this woman to the cottage. She did not exist as a woman, simply as a prisoner of the Toffs, so he dare not relax. It did not matter how much of a fool she made him feel. At least there was only half an hour or so longer.

He could draw the driver’s attention, but the man was concentrating on the out-of-town traffic, and Jolly did not want to look a fool as well as feel one.

“Jolly,” Mrs. Wallis said, and slid her hand to his again. “Don’t be silly, pet, you—”

She stopped abruptly, to stifle a yawn. Jolly’s hopes rose. She would soon lose consciousness, and the embarrassing business could be forgotten.

She pressed close against him again.

“Jolly, honey, you really are so sweet,” she said huskily. “You’re wasted working for a man like Rollison—why don’t you relax, and be nice to me? I’ll put in a word for you with Tiny, you won’t get hurt.”

Will you kindly take your hand away, madam, sit back in the corner, and stop behaving like a woman of the streets.”

She drew back abruptly, and next moment she sneered:

Tut I’m not that kind of a woman, Jolly, I’m very particular about my men friends. Do you know what will happen to you when my husband hears that you took me away?”

“Your husband will doubtless spend most of the rest of his life in prison, where he most rightly belongs,” Jolly said coldly.

She stared, then laughed again. This time he could feel her quivering, as if she was helpless with the laughter. She patted the back of his hand, instead of squeezing, and said marvellingly:

“You’re wonderful, Jolly, you’re priceless! I didn’t think that anyone like you still lived. It’s such a pity.”

She kept still in her corner for some minutes, and Jolly began to breathe more freely, but he was still too close to her to feel that the absurd crisis was over. He smoothed back his ruffled hair, and was tempted to wipe the lipstick off his lips, for he could feel it on them; but he did not. There was probably lipstick on his shirt and collar, too; he must never be seen like this.

“Jolly,” the woman said, “how about telling the driver to turn round and take me home?”

“That is impossible, and you know it.”

“It would be worth a pony, Jolly.”

“Fifty pounds or five hundred, that is immaterial,” Jolly said, and realised that he still sounded like a pompous fool, but he could not prevent himself. “Will you kindly resign yourself to the fact—”

She began to laugh again.

In the middle of the laughter, while his face was going scarlet, and he had to restrain himself from slapping her, she yawned. This time she couldn’t suppress it; she realised that and was frightened. She clutched Jolly’s hands, but this was no part of an attempt to seduce him, he could sense her fear.

Now don’t worry, you’ll be quite all right,” he said in a much more normal voice.

“You don’t know Tiny,” Stella said, and her voice quivered helplessly. “You don’t know—” She fell forward against him, dead to the world.

He eased her back into her corner, took out his handkerchief, and dabbed the sweat off his forehead. Then with great deliberation he wiped his lips and his fingers, and ran his fingers about his face so as to make sure that there was no lipstick there; he would not be satisfied until he had a mirror.

He felt cooler and much more himself, but still a little disturbed, when he looked about to see where they were. This was Wimbledon Common. They would soon be on the Kingston Bypass, and not far beyond the end of the bypass was the cottage where he had to deliver her. There an old family servant of the Rollisons would make sure that she was well cared for but did not escape. It was half an hour’s journey at most.

There was a lot of traffic on the bypass, and some of the drivers coming in the opposite direction kept their headlights full on; it was difficult even for Jolly to see, and driving must be very trying.

Then he began to fear that a car was keeping very close to them.

He could not be sure that it was always the same car, sidelights and headlights looked very much alike from the mirror, but one certainly seemed to be keeping the same distance all the way. Others whipped past, and they themselves passed slower traffic; but the one car was behind all the time.

Ought he to warn the driver?

He leaned forward to do so as the car behind pulled out, and then roared past. A man and woman were in the front seat, and neither so much as looked at him. Jolly relaxed and reproved himself. But he would be glad when this evening’s drive was over, he had never felt so futile or foolish in his life. He hoped he would never have to see this woman again, every time he did it would remind him of tonight.

He closed his eyes, not really dozing, but finding the quiet hum of the tyres and the steady breathing of his charge soothing. Whenever he opened his eyes the other traffic was passing swiftly, until they went off the bypass, then through Esher; soon they would have to turn off. The driver knew the place well, and slowed down, obviously looking for it. The woman didn’t stir.

They turned off, into a narrow, winding road, and only a mile or two along there would be a lane leading to the cottage; there was no more secluded spot near London. Jolly relaxed completely, and was not even uneasy about the lipstick; was not uneasy when a car passed them, and pulled over rather too sharply. Foolish driver. Another car was just behind, and was about to pass.

Then, the rear lights of the car in front blazed in scarlet warning. Jolly’s driver jammed on his brakes. The car behind came up so swiftly that Jolly held his breath, waiting for the crash. It did not come. He was aware of men jumping out of the car in front, others out of the car behind.

“They’re Wallis’s men,” Jolly gasped aloud.

He tried to get out of the nearside door, but before he opened the door two youths were there in the light of the headlamps. He saw the face of the man Wallis, a face he knew from photographs which he had studied that day. He saw the savage glitter in this man’s eyes.

Wallis didn’t speak.

Two youths dragged Jolly from the car, and another dragged the driver out; and then as he staggered along the road, Wallis struck Jolly.

It was the most dreadful thing Jolly had known in all his life.