“Okay?” a man asked, softly.
“I’ve scared the lights out of them,” said another, in a cultured voice which carried a hint of laughter. “They won’t go to church in a hurry!”
Rollison stood in the doorway as the men approached, holding his torch in front of him. As they drew within a yard or two of him, walking side by side, he switched on the torch and the dazzling light brought them abruptly to a standstill.
“And which of you is Mr Keller?” inquired Rollison, politely.
CHAPTER FOUR
The Men Who Uttered Menaces
“Don’t make the mistake of moving,” continued Rollison without a pause, “because I’ve brought a gun with me. Which of you is Keller?” he repeated.
Neither of them moved. Probably they realised that if they doubled back into the house they would do little good; more likely, they were afraid that he really had a gun. The light of his torch showed their hands as well as their faces.
The taller of the two was well-dressed and good-looking with short, dark hair and a heavy moustache. He was hatless and wore an open-necked shirt. Obviously he was the man with the cultured voice. The other, shorter and thick-set, had a pugnacious but not an evil face—he was very different from the ex-prize-fighter and Spike Adams. His large eyes stood the light better than his companion and he was the first to speak.
“Who the hell are you?” His voice was rough but not Cockney.
“A friend of Kemp,” answered Rollison.
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll tell Kemp to clear out,” growled the thick-set man. “He’s not wanted here.”
“So I gathered when Spike Adams tried to beat him up,” said Rollison. “The Rev Kemp is tougher than you realise.”
“I’ve warned him,” the man growled.
“Are you Keller?”
“Never mind who I am!”
“I don’t think we understand each other,” said Rollison, mildly. “I’m helping Kemp who is here to stay. Anyone who tries to get rid of him will run into much more trouble than he expects.”