The Toff And The Curate

“Kemp was heard talking to them in a familiar manner and, when the police arrived, he was accused by one of them of a double-cross,” said Rollison. “Believe me, the evidence is there. Only the stubborn pride of your young man prevented him from making convincing denials. Pride is his chief shortcoming.”

“Will you please say what you mean?”

“Yes indeed,” Rollison promised. “I mean that this morning I didn’t feel too sure of Ronald but now I’m convinced that he is being very cleverly framed. I think he told the truth when he said that he had been called to the club by telephone and it was done so that the police should find him there. The other men who matter escaped and seemed confident that the police won’t find them. They allowed themselves to be seen going in by Jolly, presumably to get me there too. They have realised that the police suspect Kemp and are doing their best to make sure it goes further. We’ve a big job on our hands and there isn’t much time to lose.”

“You’re not just saying this to comfort me, I hope,” said Isobel, quietly.

“Now why should I try anything so foolish with a big, fine lass like you! No, this last attempt is so glaringly obvious. Kemp is being framed and it’s up to us to prove it. Do you know the foreman at East Wharf?”

“Owen, you mean? Yes.”

“Do you like him?”

“He’s quite an inoffensive little man, I would say.”

Rollison grimaced. “He wouldn’t like to hear you say so, he fancies himself as a he-man, a slave-driver, a—but that doesn’t matter! Instead of telling Kemp about the meeting in my flat, tell Owen. He’s on the overtime shift tonight but you’ll have to make the opportunity yourself. Can you do it?”

“I’ll manage it somehow!”

“That’s the girl!” exclaimed Rollison. “Don’t let him guess that you’ve been prompted, drop it into ordinary conversation but try to make sure that only Owen can hear you. As for time—well, make your own. Whatever time you talk to him, tell him the meeting is due three-quarters of an hour afterwards.”

“Why?” asked Isobel.

“Because he might try to break up the party,” said Rollison. “If he does, he’ll have to work quickly. In short, if he’s really involved and alarmed, he’ll send some of his boy-friends and there’ll be quite a shiny.”

“Will you be all right?”

“I shall be wonderful!” Rollison assured her. “Don’t worry about me! Think of Billy the Bull.”

“Oh!” exclaimed Isobel and began to smile.

“That’s the spirit!” said Rollison. “Let’s go, Jolly!”

They left Isobel still smiling. On the way to Gresham Terrace, Jolly asked whether Rollison really meant what he had said. Rollison left him in no doubt. He believed Gregson and ‘Keller’ had seized on his interest in Kemp to fasten guilt on to the curate whose resentment was likely to create a wrong impression with the police.

“And you’re throwing a party tonight,” Rollison went on. “Billy the Bull and three or four of the heftier members of Bill’s club— feed them well, don’t spare the points! If Owen’s our man, be ready for him.”

“Won’t you be there, sir?”

“I don’t know,” said Rollison, “we haven’t been able to plan far ahead in this show yet. I’ll make the arrangements with Bill Ebbutt and the guests will start arriving at any time after seven o’clock.”

“I will entertain them as well as I can,” Jolly assured him. “If you are right, sir, they are being very clever— almost too clever.”

“That’s it, precisely,” said Rollison. “Too clever by half. I don’t believe in such open-handed presents to the police and when Grice is more himself I think he’ll begin to have doubts, although he’ll have to go on with the investigation into Kemp. On the whole, it shouldn’t do Kemp any harm.”

“Provided he gets a clean bill, sir,” said Jolly.

“Yes,” said Rollison, unsmilingly. “Yes, provided we can clear him. You know one thing.”

“What particular thing have you in mind, sir?”

“From the beginning, they wanted to get rid of Kemp. I’m assuming that he is a victim and not a conspirator! They tried to drum him out, by ostracising him. That failed. They tried to kill him by accident. That failed—and they realised that if he were murdered, it would mean a tremendous fuss. Then I gave them the idea of making Kemp the scapegoat and they didn’t lose much time. They have always a scapegoat, from the shadowy Keller who might or might not exist. There’s always a dummy, be it a person or a place. Very clever, Jolly!”

“Yes, sir. Do you think the whisky is brought in at East Wharf and distributed from there?”

“It could be.”

“I think you told me you had asked the Superintendent to give special attention to the Irish dock-workers, sir —were you serious about that?”“

“Partly,” said Rollison. “But only because O’Hara and the ‘other Irishman’ whom Craik mentioned, set me thinking along those lines.”

“If Craik has been a party, even to warehousing the whisky,” said Jolly, “he might be able to give you information.”

“Yes, probably. But the odds are that none of the halls was used to store the stuff. When that theory was exploded much of the case against Craik being hand-in-glove with them was blown sky-high.”

“I suppose so, sir,” said Jolly, reluctantly.

“In other words, your advice is still watch Craik,” said Rollison. “Yes. We mustn’t forget that he tried to kill