‘This is the place, Michael,’ Will said loudly. His voice was as clear and as commanding as a squire in the saddle. I had to bite back a smile.

‘Bang on the door, then!’ I said. I made my voice as deep as I could, and I slurred as if I were drunk. ‘Bang on the whoreson door!’

It swung open before Will raised his hand. The porter inside, dressed in a shabby livery which looked as if it had been bought off a barrow cheap, smiled at us. He had a tooth missing. He looked an utter rogue.

‘This is a private club, gentlemen,’ he said. ‘Private to the gentry and their friends.’

Thank the lord they were saving money on the lighting and the hall was illuminated only by a single candelabra, and two of the candlesticks were guttering. My face under the hat was in shadow anyway; he was looking mainly at the cut of my coat which was good, and assuring himself that, although we might look like rustics, we were neither of us the watch come to check on this new gambling hell.

‘I’m an acquaintance of Sir Henry Peters,’ I said, braggishly, like a young man. ‘Is he here tonight?’

‘Not tonight,’ said the porter. ‘But please to come in, there is a small, a very small membership fee.’

I put my hand in my pocket and at his mumble of two guineas each I tipped the gold coins into his hand. His eyes gleamed at the weight of the purse as I tucked it back inside my cape.

‘Certainly,’ he said. ‘Most certainly, this way.’

He led the way up the rickety stairs to the upper floor. I could hear the sound of voices and the chink of bottle against glass. I could hear Perry’s own voice say, ‘Gad! Against me again! My luck’s sick as a dog tonight!’

I hesitated, wondering how drunk Perry was, whether he would see my face under the heavy tricorne hat and cry out in surprise. But then the porter pushed open the door and I saw how dark and smoky it was inside, and I went on, fearless.

The smoke hung like a pall in the room, cigar smoke in thick wreaths. The stench of it made my eyes water as soon as I stepped inside, but I saw how it darkened the room so that the gamblers were squinting at their cards. No one even noticed us.

‘Waiter!’ Will said behind me.

The man appeared and Will ordered a bottle of burgundy and signed for it with a flourish. He did not once glance at me for approval. You would have thought we had been bottle companions, gambling and wenching together for years.