There were the usual games – Chemmy, Roulette, Blackjack and, in a small side room, Poker was on offer. But it was the clientele which Miller found most interesting. There was little doubt that Vernon was catering for the top people with a vengeance. The kind of money being wagered would have been sufficient to indicate that, but in any case, Miller recognized faces here and there. Wool barons, industrialists, the managing director of one of the world’s largest ready-made clothing factories. There were at least four millionaires present to his personal knowledge.

The whole place had the atmosphere of a West-End club, only a low buzz of conversation disturbed the silence and grave-faced waiters in hunting pink moved from table to table dispensing free drinks.

Manchester Charlie Ford and his boys would never have got past the door, but if they had, they would have closed the place down by just one visit. With the kind of clientele it catered for, a club like the Flamingo depended on its reputation. Take that away from it and it was finished.

They stood by the roulette wheel watching the play and she turned suddenly. ‘I’d like to have a go. What do I do?’

‘Decide how much you can afford to lose, that’s lesson number one.’

She opened her handbag and produced two five-pound notes. ‘Will this be all right?’

He grinned. ‘It won’t go far in a place like this, but never mind. Who knows? You may even break the bank. Wait here, I’ll get you some chips.’

Max Vernon sat at his desk, magnificent in a midnight blue dinner jacket, a white gardenia in his buttonhole. For supper, the chef had presented him with a mixed grill done to perfection and a glass of champagne was at his elbow.

The man who stood on the other side of the desk, an open ledger in his hand, was Claudio Carelli, the casino manager, and he looked worried.

‘But it isn’t good, Mr Vernon. We put a lot of money into this place. The new décor and refurnishing came to twenty-two thousand and then there are the running expenses. At the moment, we’re virtually living from day to day.’

‘You worry too much, Claudio,’ Vernon said. ‘It takes time to build up a prestige club like this. But they’re coming now – all the right people. Another three months and we’ll be in the clear.’

‘I certainly hope so.’

As Carelli opened the door to leave, Stratton came in, his face pale with excitement. ‘Miller’s downstairs in the casino.’

‘How did he get in?’

‘He’s with the Craig girl. Ben saw them come in. He checked with Bruno on the door. She’s a member all right, everything square and above board. She brought Miller in as her guest.’

‘Who put her up?’

‘Bruno says it was Sir Frank Wooley. Shall we get rid of them?’