The Toff and the Deadly Priest by John Creasey Page A

opinion, sir?”
    â€œYou know very well it is.”
    â€œI certainly share it,” said Jolly, warmly. “I must say that I think it a great pity, Mr. Kemp.”
    â€œYou needn’t worry about Kemp,” said Rollison, with satisfaction.
    â€œI don’t understand you, sir.”
    â€œTonight, he lasted nine rounds against Billy the Bull, and four thousand people saw him. Forty thousand know about it by now. If you’re thinking of going to St. Guy’s on Sunday, you’d better reserve a pew!”
    â€œMr. Kemp – and Billy the Bull?” gasped Jolly.
    â€œSo you can be surprised,” said Rollison, cheerfully.
    â€œBut I can’t believe it, sir! How could such a contest be arranged? How on earth did Mr. Kemp realise the possibilities of such a – oh, I see, sir! You had a hand in it!”
    He broke off, and they began to laugh. When they sobered up Jolly told his story.
    He had made some fruitless inquiries during the morning, and had then gone to the dockside pub, The Docker, understanding that one of the men whom Rollison had caught the previous night had said that Keller had once lived there. Jolly had seen the man with the cultured voice coming out, and had decided to follow him.
    The unknown had gone first to Barking, where he had had lunch in a small coffee shop, and then made his way by bus to Loughton, where he had paid a visit to an inn, then gone from Loughton to Epping, which was not far away. There, he had had a drink at another pub, and visited two more before he had returned, on the last bus, to London. There, the blackout had swallowed him up, near Piccadilly.
    â€œA protracted pub crawl,” said Rollison. “But you’ve made a note of the names of the pubs and other places he called at, I hope?”
    â€œI noted each one down, sir.”
    â€œGood!” said Rollison, briefly. “Now to bed, Jolly.”
    â€œI hope we are not disturbed, sir,” said Jolly. “But for that coffee, I would have had great difficulty in keeping awake.” He stifled a yawn, apologised, and asked Rollison what he intended to do the next day.
    â€œIn the evening, I hope to see Joe Craik,” said Rollison. “Two things to ponder, Jolly. The warning to Kemp was misspelt, a ‘here’ without its aspirate and other glaring errors, but ‘clear’ spelt correctly and not with the double-ee which might have been expected. Would a man who knew where to put commas fail to know where to put an ‘h’?”
    â€œIt isn’t likely, sir. It was a further attempt to confuse, perhaps?”
    â€œAs with Joe Craik’s knife,” said Rollison.
    He was soon asleep in bed, and was woken up by Jolly at a quarter to eight.
    After a long day at the office, without being interrupted by the more pressing affair, he learned from Jolly that no one had telephoned the flat. He went to the East End.
    Kemp was in high spirits when he arrived, and appeared to regard him as a worker of miracles.
    â€œBecause Craik’s been released?” asked Rollison. “Don’t thank me, thank the police. What kind of a day have you had?”
    Kemp, his one open eye bright, drew in his breath.
    â€œThe whole atmosphere has changed. I haven’t seen so many smiles or been asked how I am, so often in all my life! Now that is a miracle, Rolly, and you can’t deny that you’re responsible for it! I know you fixed the fight with Billy the Bull; I wish I could say thanks.”
    Rollison eyed him reflectively.
    â€œOdd fellow,” he announced, after a pause. “I don’t work miracles. Nor do you. But they happen. Curious, isn’t it? Now I’m going to see Joe Craik!”
    He left Kemp staring with a startled expression, and walked along towards Craik’s shop. On the way, a large number of people hailed him.
    Outside Craik’s shop, a little woman was tapping at the door. Looking round at Rollison,