“He will,” said Rollison, confidently.

He told Jolly what had happened before they reached the flat. Rollison paid the driver off, adding a pound to the fare and walked upstairs with the man’s gusty thanks ringing in his ears.

Jolly had gone ahead.

Afterwards, Rollison knew that he should have been prepared for some such development, although he had not thought of the possibility of a visit to the flat so early. As it was, he stepped inside the little hall and saw Jolly standing motionless with his back towards him, just inside the drawing-room.

“What—” he began.

“That’s enough from you, Rollison,” said a voice from behind him.

Rollison forced himself not to turn too hastily but his heart began to thump. The voice was that of the thick-set man whom he had seen at the back of Whiting’s house. He caught a glimpse of the owner of the educated voice, standing in front of Jolly. He got the impression that Jolly was being held up at the point of a gun, as he turned to look into the curiously docile looking brown eyes of the man with the growling voice.

CHAPTER FIVE

“I’m Keller.”

Once he had recovered from the surprise, Rollison smiled into the man’s face.

“Harry Keller, I presume,” he said.

“I’m Keller, yes,” answered the thick-set man. “When are you going to stop nosing into other people’s business?”

“It’s a congenital failing, I’m afraid,” said Rollison, sadly, “I can’t help myself.”

“You’ll help yourself this time,” said Keller.

His assurance in itself was puzzling. If the visitors had planned an attack it would probably have been made when Rollison had walked unsuspectingly into the hall. It appeared more likely that Keller had come to reason with him and that was puzzling.

“What makes you think so?” he inquired politely.

“We don’t want that big parson around and we don’t intend to let him stay, Toff or no Toff. Nothing you can do will make any difference but if you don’t lay off, you will get hurt.”