Harry hoped his guess was correct – that Berrow and Banks would wait outside that brothel in the hope of getting hold of Jonathan. But to make sure, he, Becket, and Phil followed the pair from The Club, then hid at the end of Verney Street and watched. Berrow and Banks looked around furtively and went into the brothel. They came out a few minutes later and stood waiting.

‘Jonathan must have been due on duty about now,’ whispered Harry. ‘Becket and Phil, go now. You have your instructions.’

Becket walked forward to where Berrow and Cyril were standing. Harry had altered his manservant’s appearance. Becket now sported a heavy moustache and mutton-chop whiskers.

He held the gun on the pair. Then he raised it and fired a shot neatly through the top of Berrow’s silk hat and then levelled the pistol on them again.

The brothel door slammed shut and the lights went out. A shot in Verney Street meant trouble, and trouble meant the police. No one wanted to be around when the police arrived. Harry at the end of the street saw a possible customer turn and run off.

‘What do you want?’ squeaked Cyril. ‘Our money?’

‘I want you to kiss your friend on the mouth.’

‘Bugger you,’ hissed Berrow.

Becket clicked back the hammer on the pistol. ‘Oh, do what the maniac says,’ howled Cyril, ‘or he’ll kill us.’

He grasped Berrow by the shoulders and pressed his mouth to his. Becket melted into the shadows as the magnesium flare went off.

Neither man saw the flash, both having their eyes tight shut. When Cyril released Berrow, he looked wildly around. There was no sign of anyone. Both men took out their silk handkerchiefs and wiped their mouths.

‘Disgusting!’ raged Berrow. ‘Let’s get out of here. Scotland Yard shall hear of this.’ He set off down the street.

‘Hold on,’ said Cyril. ‘We can’t tell the police.’

‘Why not? We were forced to kiss each other by some maniac with a pistol.’

‘The police will ask where it took place. If we say Verney Street, they’ll think we’re a pair of you-know-whats. And I told you that someone opened my safe and stole that negative and photograph.’

Berrow stopped short. ‘What are we to do?’

‘We can’t do anything.’

The next morning, both Cyril and Berrow received envelopes delivered by hand. In each envelope was a large photograph of them kissing each other. The brothel behind them was also in the picture. Each received the same letter. ‘If you go near Lady Rose Summer again or interfere in her life, go near her home, or threaten her in any way, this photograph goes to the police and the newspapers.’

Cyril went straight round to Berrow’s town house.

‘You got one too! What are we to do?’

‘I’m sure this is the work of that counter-jumper, Cathcart,’ growled Berrow. ‘Let’s keep clear of Lady Rose while we think of a way to get back at him.’