“I—I dunno,” said Spike and his voice became a squeak. “I don’t, I tell yer—that’s Gawd’s truth. He’s not one who stays in the same place for long. Last I heard, he was at The Docker but he ain’t there now. I seed ‘im in the street ternight, that’s when he gimme the job.”

Rollison weighed the cosh in his hand and deliberated. Harris was staring fixedly from the stage; the name “Toff’ had affected him as much as it had Spike Adams. Only the heavy breathing of the prisoners broke the silence.

Kemp looked from one to the other, incredulous.

“All right,” Rollison said at last, “I’ll take your word this time but if you’ve lied to me, I’ll fix you. Don’t forget it. The police will be glad of a chance to put both of you inside,” he went on, turning to include Harris in his homily. “If Keller wants you to do any more of his dirty work, send word to me.”

“Okay, mister!” Spike gasped.

He scrambled to his feet and Harris jumped down from the stage and joined him. Rollison nodded towards the door and the men nearly fell over each other in their eagerness to get away. Harris closed the door carefully behind them.

Kemp drew a deep breath.

“Great Scott, Rollison! I’ve never seen anything like it!”

Rollison smiled. “I hope you often will. They know we could land them in jail for a year and added to it they have a curious idea that I’m unbeatable and infallible.”

“But that man’s face when he recognised you!”

Rollison laughed.

“Once upon a time someone started a legend about me and I’ve kept up the illusion ever since,” he said, lightly. “We’re making progress. We want to interview Mr Harry Keller as soon as we can: A curious business,” he added. “I think Adams told the truth when he said lie doesn’t know where Keller lives and that he’s not one of the mob. So Keller wanted to make quite sure that if things went wrong, no one could say much about what he’s up to.”

“Can you see any sense in it?” demanded Kemp.