Rollison hailed it, quickly. The driver pulled up.
“Where to?” he demanded. “I’m on me way to me garage, can’t go far.”
“Scotland Yard,” ordered Rollison.
The pavement was filled with people walking slowly to and fro and some of the shadows seemed to be sinister. He did not think he had been followed but, if he had, then ‘Keller’ would soon know where he was going.
The interior of the cab was very dark and the driver started off too soon.
“Be careful!” exclaimed Rollison—and then stopped short for a hand gripped his wrist and another closed over his mouth and he was dragged into the cab as the door banged. The cab moved off at a rattling pace and Rollison, almost suffocated by the pressure on his mouth, could hardly move.
“Going to Scotland Yard,
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Keep still!” the man said and struck Rollison across the face. He had released his grip and Rollison was trying to get himself more comfortable. The scratch on his leg troubled him and he was half-kneeling, half-lying, across the legs of the two occupants of the taxi. He could just see their faces, pale in the darkness.
Soon, he managed to ease his leg and stopped moving.
“That’s better,” the man said. “You’ve made a mistake this time, Rollison. You aren’t going to Scotland Yard.”
“Be careful, Gregson!” said the other who was the self-styled Keller. “He might try to jump out.”
“He won’t take the risk,” said Gregson, confidently. “Sit on one of the tip-up seats, Rollison. Don’t forget that we mean business. If you should meet with a nasty accident—well, you wouldn’t know much about it.”
Groping in the darkness, Rollison pulled a seat down and sat on it. He had not recovered enough to strike out at the others; he doubted whether he would be wise to. Their confidence now was as great as it had been at the flat with better reason.
Gregson said:
“I’ve got a shot of morphia here, Rollison; if you get funny you’ll have it and you won’t wake up again. This is your last chance, if you behave yourself.”
Rollison forced himself to reply:
“Accommodating of you. You’re well-equipped, aren’t you? Am I going to hear more about my own back- yard?”
“That’s enough of that!” snapped ‘Keller.’
He was keeping in the background, the role of spokesman had been switched; Rollison wondered who was really the leader.
He should have been prepared for such an attack. Had the taxi been waiting, he would have wondered whether it had been there fortuitously but, as it had been moving away after dropping a fare, he had not thought twice about it. The incident had been very well-planned.
The only consolation lay in the fact that they still seemed disposed to reason.
The taxi was driving through the back streets of the East End. It had turned round outside the station and was heading further east; he thought they were near the docks. He saw an occasional passer-by from the glow of a cigarette in the darkness. His breathing was easier and he was beginning to feel more capable of tackling the situation.
“You aren’t feeling so clever, are you?” sneered Gregson. “You think you’re a lot smarter than you are, Rollison. If there was anything in your reputation, you wouldn’t have fallen for this trick.”
Rollison said heartily: i couldn’t agree more!”
The man exclaimed “What?” and fell silent. The taxi was going over a cobbled surface which was a further proof that they were in the dockside area.
“You’d better agree with me again,” Gregson said. “You’ve gone far enough. Who told you about the whisky?”
“Whisky?” ejaculated Rollison.
“Come on, you know all about that,” said Gregson.
“Don’t you know about it?”
“Gregson, he—” began ‘Keller.’
“I didn’t know it was a whisky racket,” declared Rollison and then went on in a wondering voice: “I thought it was something big!” He gave a hollow laugh and wondered if he were overdoing it. There was a startled silence, followed by an oath from Keller.
“Then what the hell
“I’m simply helping Kemp,” said Rollison, truthfully.
“You’re helping that—” Keller broke off, with an exasperated note in his voice. “He’s been fooling us,” he growled. “We needn’t have worried about him.”
“Who’s worried?” asked Gregson but he sounded uneasy. “All right, so you didn’t know. We hijacked a few bottles of booze,” he went on, too quickly. “We thought you knew about it.”
