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“I see,” sneered Grice. “You had a telephone call asking you to come to the Daisy Club this morning. You’d no idea what you were wanted for—you are just the innocent victim of a hoax?”

Kemp’s face drained of its colour.

“That is what happened,” he said, coldly.

“I shall take a lot of convincing.”

“If you prefer not to believe me, that is your affair,” said Kemp, turning to Rollison. “Do you know this man?”

“He’s Superintendent Grice of New Scotland Yard,” Rollison said drily.

“I see that the manners of the police are alike from headquarters downwards,” said Kemp, bitingly.

Grice ignored the rudeness.

“I have a number of questions to ask you, Mr Kemp, and will be glad if you will come with me. I am not at this juncture making any charge against you but you should be warned that anything you say may be used in evidence.”

Kemp stared at him, coldly, then swung round on Rollison.

“Are you going to let him do this?”

“I’m afraid I can’t stop him. But you needn’t go, you know, although if you refuse, he may prefer a charge.”

From amazement, Kemp’s expression became one of anger. He looked as if he could hardly keep his fists to himself.

“So you brought the police here. I have no objection to coming with you, Superintendent.” His look suggested that he would have liked to add that he would gladly go anywhere out of sight of Rollison who did not speak again. Grice, slightly mollified, led Kemp out of the room. Several Scotland Yard men arrived and began to search the premises.

Rollison was aware of Jolly’s inquiring gaze.

“Quite a morning, isn’t it, Jolly? The best laid schemes and all the rest of it. No meeting this evening, no catch, no trap. A curious business from the beginning. It’s time we started work!”

One of the plainclothes men looked at him curiously.

“On what, sir?” asked Jolly.

“Disabusing the fixed police mind,” said Rollison. “Oh, a splendid case has been built up against Kemp and it will take some breaking. Our job is to break it.” He led the way to the deserted street. A car was disappearing round the corner and against the back window he saw the silhouette of Kemp’s head. He walked in the car’s wake, with Jolly, until they reached Mount Street.

“Are you going to see Miss Crayne?” asked Jolly.

“As a bearer of bad tidings, yes. But also of hope. Come with me, it will save me telling the same story twice.”

Isobel received them in her father’s study which she used as an office for voluntary work. She was dressed in the familiar WVS green uniform. There was restraint in her smile as she greeted Rollison and nodded to Jolly.

“Is there trouble?” she demanded before Rollison could speak.

“The police have forestalled us,” said Rollison. “Your young man is in a really nasty spot.”

“Did you—”

“I hadn’t a thing to do with it,” said Rollison hardily. “Kemp was at a particularly hot night-club—I should say, at its office. He was overheard talking with men who used violence on the police. There couldn’t be much stronger evidence that he was associating with thieves.”

Isobel sat down, slowly.

“There must be an explanation,” she said, in a composed voice.

“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?”