He paused behind a rather attractive woman. It was impossible to see what actually happened, but she turned sharply and her escort, a dark-haired young man, rounded on Ford. ‘What’s the game?’

So this was how it was to start? Miller slipped through the crowd, arriving from the rear, and secured a grip on Ford’s left wrist before he knew what had hit him.

‘Get moving!’ he said softly into Ford’s ear. ‘Try anything funny and I’ll break your arm.’

Before the young couple could say a word, Miller and Ford had been swallowed up by the crowd. They came to rest behind a pillar, Miller still retaining his grip. Ford’s right hand dived into his pocket. As it came out again, Jack Brady arrived on the scene and relieved him of a wicked-looking spiked knuckle-duster.

‘Well, well, if it isn’t my old friend Manchester Charlie Ford.’

Ford looked ready to commit murder and when Miller turned and glanced over the crowd, he saw the others making rapidly for the exit.

‘Are they leaving you then, Charlie?’ Brady said. ‘Isn’t that a shame?’

They hustled him into Lazer’s office between them and Miller shoved him down into a chair. ‘Who’s paying the piper on this little caper?’

‘Why don’t you get knotted?’ Ford said.

Brady dangled the knuckle-duster in front of him between thumb and forefinger. ‘Carrying an offensive weapon, Charlie, and with your record? Good for six months that.’

‘I can do that standing on my head.’ Ford turned as Lazer entered the room, a worried look on his face. ‘Are you Lazer?’ He laughed harshly. ‘Had to bring in the bloody scuffers, eh? That’s your lot, boyo. I hope you realize that. You’re dead meat.’

‘Why don’t you shut up?’ Miller said and glanced at his watch. ‘I’ll have to go, Jack. I’ve got a date. Will you book him for me?’

‘My pleasure.’

Brady yanked Ford to his feet and took him out through the side door and Miller turned to Lazer. ‘Don’t take any notice of that goon, Chuck. We’ve made a good start. They’ll think twice the next time.’

‘Oh, sure – sure they will,’ Lazer said, but his eyes were unhappy and Miller knew that he didn’t believe him for a moment.

The lounge bar of the Romney was only half full when Miller entered shortly after ten, but there was no sign of Harriet Craig. He sat on a stool at the end of the bar, ordered a brandy and ginger ale and lit a cigarette. When he glanced up, he could see her in the mirror standing in the doorway behind him.

She was wearing an evening coat in green grosgraine which hung open at the front to reveal a simple black cocktail dress and when she smiled on catching sight of him, she looked quite enchanting.