‘It’s drugs,’ said Dogson, coming down to earth. ‘It’s the drug racket. Of course it’s pretty well covered already, what with the Vice Parade series in the Clamour and those three articles in Sperm with all those colour plates.’

Human misery and folly were merchandise to these people. But what were they to him? However low Dogson had sunk, he was infinitely lower.

‘But the way I see it,’ went on Dogson, warming to his subject, ‘there’s still room for a series with a rather specialized angle. You know—concentrating on one particular aspect.’

Charles felt his mouth and throat unnaturally dry. He took a long pull at his beer. As soon as the beer had splashed over it, his throat was dry again. He lit a fresh cigarette.

‘What particular aspect?’ he asked.

‘Well,’ said Dogson, ‘I’ve been going into it, and I think too much attention has been paid to the distribution of the stuff once it’s entered the country—you know, the way it’s supposed to be hawked round at these jazz clubs and so on. Well, I know that makes a more obviously sensational story—a few photographs of addicts undergoing treatment, a shot of the interior of a typical club, and so on. But I think they’ve overlooked another aspect, one that’s more difficult to ferret out, of course, but it seems to me that’s just where the golden opportunity lies.’

‘Opportunity to do just what?’

‘Why, to dig in and find some facts and reveal them to the country at large,’ cried Dogson. ‘Anyway, I haven’t told you what this aspect is that I have in mind. It’s the actual smuggling in of the muck. That’s the target.’

‘But—but surely,’ said Charles, speaking with a great effort, ‘all that’s taken care of by the Customs authorities and the dock police? They must be up to all the dodges. And it’s precious little information you’ll get out of them.’

‘Oh, the customs! the police!’ snorted Dogson in contempt. ‘A fat lot they know. In any case I shan’t go to them. I shall work on my own. I’m bound to turn something up. I shall have to use my own spare time, of course, and that skinflint Richards isn’t even allowing me a quid or two for expenses, but I’ll make it.’

He paused, then fixed Charles with an attentive eye. Evidently an idea was about to emerge.

‘Now look here, Lumley,’ he said, ‘I’ve got a notion you could help me a lot here. You say you’re an export delivery driver. You must be in and out of every principal dock in the country.’