‘D’you know where this place is?’

‘Of course I do. A hundred Sink Street.’

‘Where’s that?’

‘Just off Leicester Square. Better take the car.’

‘Why?’

‘Always better to have one’s own car on an occasion like this.’

We did not question this reasoning, and there lay our mistake. The car was in the forecourt of Marchmain House within a hundred yards of the hotel where we had been dancing. Mulcaster drove and, after some wandering, brought us safely to Sink Street. A commissionaire at one side of a dark doorway and a middle-aged man in evening dress on the other side of it, standing with his face to the wall cooling his forehead on the bricks, indicated our destination.

‘Keep out, you’ll be poisoned,’ said the middle-aged man.

‘Members?’ said the commissionaire.

‘The name is Mulcaster,’ said Mulcaster. ‘Viscount Mulcaster.’

‘Well, try inside,’ said the commissionaire.

‘You’ll be robbed, poisoned and infected and robbed,’ said the middle-aged man.

Inside the dark doorway was a bright hatch.

‘Members?’ asked a stout woman, in evening dress.

‘I like that,’ said Mulcaster. ‘You ought to know me by now.’

‘Yes, dearie,’ said the woman without interest. ‘Ten bob each.’

‘Oh, look here, I’ve never paid before.’

‘Daresay not, dearie. We’re full up tonight so it’s ten bob. Anyone who comes after you will have to pay a quid. You’re lucky.’

‘Let me speak to Mrs Mayfield.’

‘I’m Mrs Mayfield. Ten bob each.’

‘Why, Ma, I didn’t recognize you in your finery. You know me, don’t you? Boy Mulcaster.’

‘Yes, duckie. Ten bob each.’

We paid, and the man who had been standing between us and the inner door now made way for us. Inside it was hot and crowded, for the Old Hundredth was then at the height of its success. We found a table and ordered a bottle; the waiter took payment before he opened it.

‘Where’s Effie tonight?’ asked Mulcaster.

‘Effie ’oo?’

‘Effie, one of the girls who’s always here. The pretty dark one.’

‘There’s lots of girls works here. Some of them’s dark and some of them’s fair. You might call some of them pretty. I haven’t the time to know them by name.’

‘I’ll go and look for her,’ said Mulcaster.

While he was away two girls stopped near our table and looked at us curiously. ‘Come on,’ said one to the other, ‘we’re wasting our time. They’re only fairies.’

Presently Mulcaster returned in triumph with Effie to whom, without its being ordered, the waiter immediately brought a plate of eggs and bacon.

‘First bite I’ve had all the evening,’ she said. ‘Only thing that’s any good here is the breakfast; makes you fair peckish hanging about.’

‘That’s another six bob,’ said the waiter.

When her hunger was appeased, Effie dabbed her mouth and looked at us.

‘I’ve seen you here before, often, haven’t I?’ she said to me.

‘I’m afraid not.’

‘But I’ve seen you?’ to Mulcaster.

‘Well, I should rather hope so. You haven’t forgotten our little evening in September?’