“But they don’t resent it, especially if they’re clothes for the women and children. Kemp, get one thing firmly fixed in your head. Most of your parishioners have exactly the same ideas of right and wrong as you have, although they differ in degree. They like a fighter, even if they don’t like what he fights for. If a man doesn’t drink or smoke, that’s his affair, but if he tries to convert others to his way of thinking, it’s a different matter. That goes for any kind of habit, vice or crime—the one way you might get some of them to look at it differently is by example— only by example. Do you see what I’m driving at?”

“Yes,” said Kemp, slowly. “As a matter of fact, Mr Cartwright said something on the same lines but I haven’t been able to see him for several weeks.” He looked rueful. “I didn’t pay much attention at the time.”

“Try to, now,” urged Rollison. “What was I saying? Oh—item one: you’ve upset someone badly and you’re the only one who can find out how. It may be simply a matter of having trodden on someone’s corns but it doesn’t look like that to me,” he admitted, thoughtfully.

“What does it look like?” asked Kemp.

“A much bigger motive,” said Rollison. “But that’s guesswork and won’t help us. This Mr and Mrs Whiting—where do they live?”

“In Little Lane—it’s off Jupe Street.”

“I know it,” said Rollison. “Let’s go and see them.”

Kemp obviously did not see much point in them both going but he raised no serious objection and, after closing the door, the lock of which had been broken by the wreckers, they walked through the blackout towards Little Lane.

They had not gone fifty yards before Rollison knew that they were being followed.

He said nothing to Kemp until they reached the corner and then spoke in a whisper.

“Walk straight on and make as much noise as you can. Don’t argue!”

He heard Kemp’s intake of breath as the man was about to speak but obediently the curate crossed the end of the lane and stamped towards Whitechapel Road. Rollison slipped back into the lane and, after a few seconds, two men passed; they made little sound and the soft padding of their footsteps told him that they were wearing rubber-soled shoes.