John Creasey - The Toff And The Curate

Afterwards, Anstruther caught a glimpse of Rollison and smiled and cocked a thumb, a surprising gesture from the old man. Isobel was beaming. The grande dame of the Whiting family declared audibly, and with a sniff, that he could preach—and she supposed that was something.

Chumley hung back until he saw Rollison.

“I’m sorry we didn’t see eye-to-eye, Mr Rollison,” he began.

“Bygones are really bygones,” declared the Toff. “You and Kemp ought to swap ideas.”

“He’ll probably force his on me!” said Chumley, wryly. “And so,” said Rollison to Jolly, as they made their way homewards, “everything in the garden is lovely until Old Nick pops his head up again.”

Jolly smiled, benignly.

“If I may use the expression, sir, I think that when he does, Kemp will dot him one vigorously. Don’t you agree sir?”

The End