The Toff and the Deadly Priest Read Free

people yet,” he said. “Those who were lukewarm towards you before will now rally round, and people who’ve never set foot in the church will probably come in on your side. You’ve a chance in a thousand, if you’ll take it.”
    Kemp looked at him incredulously.
    â€œAre you serious?”
    â€œYes,” said Rollison, “I’ve been acquainted with these people for years, and I don’t think you need worry about lacking friends – you can count on it that those who aren’t for you now, are against you, which will be a help.” He stepped to the door and called Jolly, who entered without a change of expression; he bowed to Kemp. “Move around a bit, Jolly,” said Rollison, “and try to find out something about this. Freddie Day might have heard a whisper, or else—”
    â€œI think I know whom to approach, sir,” said Jolly, faintly reproachful.
    Rollison grinned. “So you should! If I’m not here when you’ve finished, I’ll leave a message.”
    â€œVery good, sir.” Jolly went out, and Kemp’s gaze followed him, as if he were too good to be true.
    â€œWho is Eddy Day?” he asked.
    â€œFreddie,” corrected Rollison. “He’s the manager of the pub on the corner of Jupe Street.”
    Kemp frowned. “I don’t know the licensed victuallers.”
    Rollison stared. “The—” he chuckled, and went on jocularly: “If you call pub-keepers licensed victuallers, you’ll make your people think they’ve got to learn a new language – it would be easier for you to learn theirs!” When Kemp looked slightly shocked, he went on in a sharper voice: “The pubs are part of your parish, aren’t they?”
    â€œYes,” admitted Kemp, uncomfortably, “but I – I – I always thought—”
    â€œThat they were dens of vice and iniquity in the East End,” said Rollison. “Yes, I suppose you would, but the quicker you get the idea out of your head the better. You’ll find the good as well as the bad go regularly for their pint, and if you try to make ‘em give it up, you’ll come a cropper. None of which is my business, strictly speaking,” he added, more lightly. “This job is. Have you got anything in mind?”
    â€œI suppose I’d better tell the police,” said Kemp, slowly.
    â€œWhy such reluctance?”
    â€œI didn’t get on with them very well before,” said Kemp. “I mean, about Craik.”
    â€œIf that were the only reason, I’d say go to see them,” said Rollison. “But it might be a good idea not to tell them yet. They’ll hear about it, but unless you approach them officially, they’ll do nothing. If you ask them to investigate, they’ll probably start a round-up, and they might pick up half-a-dozen of the people concerned, but your stock would go down with a bump.”
    â€œI wish I could understand you,” said Kemp, after a short pause.
    â€œTaken by and large,” said Rollison, “East Enders don’t like the police. Oh, they rub shoulders and get along all right, but it’s an uneasy peace. A man who runs to the police if he’s been beaten up or had his pocket picked, doesn’t win much favour, but if he finds out who does it and repays him in kind, that’s a different story.”
    â€œConfound it! I can’t go round wrecking people’s homes!”
    â€œNeed you take me so literally?” asked Rollison. “Ever done any boxing, Kemp?”
    â€œA bit, at Oxford,” Kemp answered.
    â€œI thought you looked as if you could pack a punch.”
    â€œI suppose you do realise that I’m—”
    â€œA parson, yes. Is that any reason why you shouldn’t behave like a human being?” asked Rollison. “You want to get on top of this trouble, and you want the people friendly, don’t