He lifted his wrist to examine the luminous dial of his watch and saw to his astonishment that it was ten minutes past twelve and at that moment the door to Manton’s private staircase opened and someone whistled softly. Ben Garvald moved out of the shadows farther along the alley, paused under the lamp and vanished inside.

Trapped by his own astonishment, Brady stayed there in the shadow for a moment, then pulling himself together, he went forward, a cold finger of excitement making his stomach hollow.

The door to Fred Manton’s private staircase was still immovable, but the staff entrance opened to his touch and he hurried inside.

11

When Lazer opened the private door and Garvald entered, he found himself in a small square hall at the bottom of a flight of carpeted stairs. Lazer went first. At the top, he opened a door cautiously and peered into a narrow corridor.

‘What have we got here?’ Garvald demanded softly.

‘Manton’s private suite. His office is at the far end. He’s in there now, I’ve just been speaking to him. He wants me to take a couple of boys from the band and go up to Bella’s place to make with the mood music. Big party night.’

‘Anything special?’

‘Harry’s birthday.’

‘She must be getting sentimental in her old age,’ Garvald said. ‘Don’t tell her you’ve seen me. I’d like it to be a surprise.’

‘My pleasure.’ Lazer grinned widely. ‘Maybe you’ll be up there later on?’

‘Depends on how the cards fall. I’m staying at the Regent Hotel in Gloyne Street. If anything comes up, you can get in touch with me there.’

‘Will do.’ They moved along the corridor and the American opened a green baize door on the left. ‘This way to hell,’ he said as music and laughter drifted up. ‘Don’t do anything I would.’

Garvald went along the corridor and paused outside the door at the far end. For a moment he hesitated, waiting for some sound through the half-open transom. He was conscious of a movement behind him and turned quickly.

A tall, broad shouldered man was standing watching him. He had long dark hair swept back over each ear, curling slightly at the nape of the neck and one good eye regarded Garvald unwinkingly. The other was coated with an obscene patina of cream and silver.

‘What’s a game, Jack?’ he demanded in a harsh voice.

Garvald looked him up and down calmly, turned without a word and opened the door. The room into which he entered was decorated in cream and gold and a fire flickered in a Queen Anne fireplace. Manton was sitting behind a walnut desk, papers spread before him. He glanced up with a start.

For several moments he and Garvald looked steadily at each other and then Manton sighed. ‘I hoped you wouldn’t do this, Ben.’