The Toff And The Curate

“I doubt whether he’ll get them,” said Rollison. “My worry is—where is it distributed from in the West End? Have you found any store-places at all?”

“One or two small ones,” said Grice. “It doesn’t appear to be delivered in large quantities, only a few dozen at a time. We’ve found seven or eight retail suppliers. All of them swear that they buy it legally and believe that it is ordinary stuff—the story is so circumstantial in every case that it seems as if the organisers use a formula.”

“They’re not associated clubs, are they?”

“No, they’re all quite independent.”

“Then if they use a formula, it’s one which they’re told to use by the suppliers,” said Rollison. “What’s the story? The bottles of bad stuff were found among deliveries from the reputable companies.”

“Yes?”

“And the reputable companies know nothing about it, of course,” went on Rollison. “How long has it been worrying you?”

“For the better part of six months.”

“It all seems to have started about six months ago,” admitted Rollison, looking very thoughtful. “You remember that I told you that Irish dock-workers were concerned?”

“Yes. I’ll look into that angle.”

“Not a bad idea,” said Rollison. “Well, we’re making progress of a kind. The main trouble is that I’ve started working from the wrong angle. They may distribute it in small quantities but there appears to be a lot of it about. Given much thought to distribution?”

“Yes,” said Grice.

He did not enlarge and so gave Rollison the impression that he was holding something back. Rollison did not attempt to force any information but went on thoughtfully:

“East Wharf might possibly be the distributing point as there’s a lot of quite legitimate stuff brought in—does any of it come from Eire, do you know?”

“Some, yes,” said Grice cautiously. “But most Irish goods come in at the West coast ports. Some shipments come direct to London but if you’re thinking that the stuff is Irish whisky, you’re—”

Rollison laughed.

“Don’t insult the Irish distillers. But where are there as many illicit stills as in Ireland? If a manager or foreman of a wharf co-operated, it might be brought off the ships.”

“There’s no evidence that it is and I think it’s made in England,” Grice said.

“You’re probably right,” admitted Rollison. “However, supposing it is brought in at East Wharf, what happens to it then? It could be loaded straight on to the lorries and—”

He paused.

“Now what’s in your mind?” demanded Grice.

“I was picturing a charming little scene at the wharf,” said Rollison. “A big Irishman ribbed an English docker who promptly called him a neutral and started a free fight. All without malice as far as I could see. But as soon as it had stopped—the foreman handled it well— the combatants were put on to loading the same lorry. They must have been in a big hurry to get the lorry loaded and off.”

“Why?” asked Grice.

“You know, you’re not really as dull as this! The obvious reason would be to get whatever they were loading en route before the police arrived. Police would be bound to arrive on the scene as soon as word of the accident reached them, wouldn’t they?”

“Do you think East Wharf should be raided?”

“Certainly not just now!” exclaimed Rollison. “If there’s anything in the idea, the stuff has been sent away and we’d only put them on their guard. You might care to find out if that was an Irish ship, though, and keep some eyes open when the next one comes in from Eire. A suggestion only!” he added, mildly.

“I know all about your suggestions,” said Grice. “It’s a good one, anyhow.”

“Thanks. Do you know your Sergeant Bray very well?”

“Fairly well,” said Grice, cautiously.

“Is he as hot-headed as he seems? I gathered that he made the arrest a little precipitately.”

“He was right to act as he did and also right to take Craik to Divisional headquarters. Bray’s a good chap. He might have made a mistake but, if you’re asking me whether I propose to reprimand him for this, I’m not.”

“I should hope not!” exclaimed Rollison. “Er—Chumley was spry, too, wasn’t he?”

“Chumley is spry,” said Grice, quietly.

Rollison raised an eyebrow.

“Like that, is it? I was mistaken, I always thought he was one of the better men in the division but he’s showing unsuspected qualities of slyness, too. I suppose he wants to keep the glory in the Division?”

Grice made no comment.

“It’s a thousand pities that you can’t be frank, by reason of the rules and regulations,” Rollison remarked.

Grice smiled and said gently:

“There are no rules and regulations binding you!”