Rollison replaced the bottles and the stretch of wainscotting and was standing up, empty-handed, when Kemp arrived with a tea-tray. He had brought three cups.
The tea seemed to revive Craik. He remained maudlin and apologetic and very humble. He said that he realised now that the suicide attempt had been wrong but he hadn’t thought he could stand the disgrace. Kemp jollied him, handling the situation, as he knew it, admirably. Half an hour later, Craik seemed a new man and Kemp rose to go.
“You’ll be all right, now, Joe, and I’ve a meeting at seven-thirty. Don’t come out tonight. But don’t talk a lot of nonsense about not coming to church!” He rested a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Are you coming, Rolly?”
“I’ll stay for half an hour,” said Rollison.
When Kemp had gone, Craik looked at him steadily.
Bill Ebbutt had disliked the little man’s face and that was understandable. Craik had a hang-dog look, as if he were ashamed of himself. It was meekness but not true humility. He would be anathema to a bluff, confident character like Ebbutt. Now, however, he took on a strange, unexpected dignity.
“I appreciate your help very much, Mr Rollison. I won’t forget it, either.”
Rollison smiled.
“That’s all right, Joe! It’s none of my business but, if you must drink in secret, don’t drink poison like that.” He took out the bottles again and tucked them into his pockets where they bulged noticeably. “If you must have a drink, I’ll send you a bottle of the real stuff.”
“Please don’t,” said Craik, quickly. “This has been a lesson to me, I must try to—”
“If you try to reform yourself in five minutes, you’ll slip back further than you were before,” said Rollison. “How long have you been buying this stuff from O’Hara?”
“About four months, I suppose,” said Craik.
“Who did you get it from before that?”
“Another Kelly,” said Craik. “I mean, another Irishman!”
“Do you know where they got it?”
“No, I—I didn’t ask questions,” said Craik and went on in a thin voice: “I knew I was doing wrong but I couldn’t get it no other way. I used to buy it in the West End but when it got short I couldn’t.”
“It’s your problem,” Rollison said. “I’m not your judge. Do you know anyone else who buys it?”
“No,” said Craik, emphatically. “No one knows about it.”
“Then why should they learn?” asked Rollison.
He smiled and left the room.
Someone was putting a piece of board up at the broken window. It was the policeman who appeared to inquire about Craik’s condition and said that two or three things had been stolen when a dozen people had burst into the shop.
“I think it was them kids,” the policeman said. “They take some handling!”
“If they all get handled your way, they’ll be all right,” said Rollison. “I shouldn’t worry Craik just now. He’ll be better tomorrow.”
“What about the door?” asked the policeman.
“We’ll lock it and go out the back way,” said Rollison. “The back door’s got a self-locking Yale.”
When he parted company with the policeman he walked towards the Whitechapel Road, no longer smiling. The bottles were uncomfortable against his sides and once or twice he fingered them.
He did not think he had much further to look for the motive behind the murder; and he came to the conclusion that Jolly had not wasted the previous day. He was very anxious lo talk to Jolly.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Jolly sipped at a glass of Joe Craik’s whisky gingerly, ran it about his mouth and swallowed. Despite his caution, he choked. When he had recovered, he looked at Rollison with watery eyes.
“Very harsh liquor indeed, sir.”
“So I think,” said Rollison. “Craik bought it from O’Hara and, before O’Hara, from another Irishman from the colony at the docks. Bootleg liquor, Jolly!”
“You seem almost elated, sir.” Jolly was mildly disapproving. “I am,” said Rollison. “We’ve won half the battle and your journey yesterday was a stroke of genius!”
Jolly looked puzzled.
“Can’t you see why?” asked Rollison.
“I’m afraid I can’t, sir.”
“You’ve been drinking too much fire-water! You followed the pseudo-Keller’s cultured companion about yesterday, didn’t you? And as far as you know, he didn’t realise that he was being followed.”
“I should be very reluctant to think that he had observed me,” said Jolly, with dignity.
“I don’t think he did, otherwise he wouldn’t have gone round booking orders,” said Rollison.
