‘Now then, Sergeant, I was a Londoner myself twenty years ago.’

‘And I bet you thought that north of High Barnet we rolled boulders on to travellers as they passed by.’

He grinned wickedly and the night sister said, ‘It’s a change to see you smile. They work you too hard. When did you last have a day off?’

‘A day? You must be joking, but I’m free now till six a.m. As it happens, I’ve had an invitation to a party, but I’d break it for you.’

She was unable to keep her pleasure at the compliment from showing on her pleasant face and gave him a little push. ‘Go on, get out of it. I’m a respectable married woman.’

‘In that case I will. Don’t do anything I would.’ He smiled again and went out through the swing doors.

She stood there in the half-light, listening to the sound of the car engine dwindle into the distance, then turned with a sigh, went back into her office and picked up a book.

Nick Miller had met Joanna Hartmann only once at a dinner party at his brother’s place. The circumstances had been slightly unusual in that he had been in bed in his flat over the garage block at the rear of the house when his brother had arrived to shake him back to reality with the demand that he get dressed at once and come to dinner. Miller, who had not slept for approximately thirty hours, had declined with extreme impoliteness until his brother indicated that he wished him to partner a national television idol who had the nation by the throat twice-weekly as the smartest lady barrister in the game. It seemed that her fiancé had failed to put in an appearance, which put a completely different complexion on the whole thing. Miller had got dressed in three minutes flat.

That evening had been interesting and instructive. Like most actresses, she had proved to be not only intelligent, but a good conversationalist and for her part she had been intrigued to discover that her host’s handsome and elegant younger brother was a policeman.

A pleasant evening, but nothing more, for a considerable amount of her conversation had concerned her fiancé, Bruno Faulkner the sculptor, who had followed her north when she had signed to do her series for Northern Television and Nick Miller was not a man to waste his time up blind alleys.

Under the circumstances her invitation was something of a surprise, but it had certainly come at the right moment. A little life and laughter was just what he needed. Something to eat, a couple of stiff drinks and then home to bed or perhaps to someone else’s? You never knew your luck where show people were concerned.