Lazer shrugged and moved into a pushing, intricate arrangement of Blue Moon. ‘I can look after myself.’

‘What with – a gun?’

Lazer cracked suddenly and completely. ‘What in the hell do you expect me to do? Bow out gracefully and let him take over? I’ve put a lot of sweat into this place, Nick. I run an honest game for a nice class of people, which suits me and suits them. I’m damned if I’m going to let Max Vernon walk all over me.’

Miller got to his feet, walked across to one of the green baize tables and picked up a pair of dice. He rattled them in his hand and turned, a frown on his face.

‘When do you think they’ll start, Jack?’

‘Probably tonight if what happened to the dogs is anything to go by,’ Brady said. ‘Half a dozen heavies mingling with the regular members, complaining about the service, starting a punch-up or two. The usual pattern. Before you know where you are this place will be as dead as the Empire music hall.’

Lazer’s face had gone grey and his shoulders sagged as he stopped playing. ‘Okay – you win. What do I do?’

‘You do nothing,’ Miller said. ‘Just leave everything to us. What time do you open?’

‘Eight o’clock, but things don’t really get moving till nine-thirty or ten.’

Miller turned to Brady enquiringly. ‘Feel like a night on the town, Jack?’

‘Suits me,’ Brady grinned. ‘Naturally I’ll expect my chips to be on the house.’

Lazer managed a faint smile. ‘I might as well get ruined that way as the other.’

Miller clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, Chuck, we’ll have the heavy brigade standing by. Anyone who starts anything tonight is in for the shock of their lives.’

On returning to Headquarters, Miller went in to see Grant to report on this latest development and then sat down at his desk and started to work his way through some of the paper that had accumulated in his In-tray. It was just before one and he was thinking about going down to the canteen for a sandwich when the ’phone rang.

It was a woman’s voice, cool, assured and faintly familiar. ‘Detective Sergeant Miller?’

‘Speaking.’

‘Harriet Craig here.’

‘What can I do for you, Miss Craig?’

‘I was wondering if we could have a chat.’

‘I don’t see why not. Are you free this afternoon?’

‘No, I’m afraid not, and this evening I’m going to the symphony concert at the George Hall with friends.’ She hesitated as if slightly uncertain. ‘It finishes at ten. I could meet you then or would that be too late?’

‘Not at all,’ Miller said. ‘Shall I pick you up outside?’

‘No, I’d rather not if you don’t mind. There’s a bar in Gascoigne Square – the Romney. Do you know it?’

‘I certainly do.’