“Day after tomorrow,” said Rollison blandly, and looked about him, as if he was completely at peace with the world and thoroughly enjoying life. He leaned forward so that his ear was close to Ebbutt, and he heard the big man whisper:

“Now you’ve done it, Mr. Ar, nothing will keep ‘em away. Would you like a couple of my chaps?”

“No, Bill,” Rollison said. “If I get any visitors, I’d like to welcome them myself.” He beamed and winked again, looked longingly at another pie, but slowly shook his head. Then with great precision he spoke so that only Ebbutt could hear. “You and your boys keep out of it for the time being, Bill. I’ll telephone if I want any help.”

“I dunno that I like it,” Ebbutt grumbled, “but I suppose you know what you’re doing.

Another “arf o’ mild, Charlie? Okay. “Am sandwich, yessir.” He toiled and drew the beer and watched over his customers, knowing which were aching to carry the news of the Toffs braggadocio to Tiny Wallis and Micky Clay.

It would not be long before the couple heard of it.

“Going straight back after this, Mr. Ar?” asked Ebbutt, into a lull.

“One or two calls to make first,” said Rollison. “I’ll be back home by about four.” He grinned at Ebbutt, paid his dues and then strolled out, nodding right and left and lording it much more than anyone here had known the Toff lord it before. Many were his friends and most respected him, but there was an uneasy silence while he went out. As soon as the doors swung to behind him, they all began to talk so fast that Ebbutt could not hear the orders.

Every man there believed that the Toff, having asked for trouble, would get it very soon.

*     *     *

Rollison strolled across to his car, where the youngsters still stood, mostly in awe, but from which the youths had gone.