The waitress arrives with the drinks on a tray. He takes both glasses and nods to a plush sofa, tucked away in a shadowy corner. There is no alternative but to slide in next to him. She’s passed the time with worse company, and it might be worth her while sitting with him, while she waits for Billy. It won’t be too difficult to reach into his pocket.

‘Here you are,’ he says, placing her drink on the table in front of her.

‘Cheers, mister…’

‘Lazenby,’ he says, touching his glass to hers. ‘Peter Lazenby. And you are?’

‘Ruby Mills.’

‘Is that your real name or just the one you’re wearing tonight?’ He doesn’t so much speak as allow words to seep from his lips like honey. She’s met his sort from time to time – wealthy, confident in his own opinions – but she can see from his eyes that he is no fool. She remains on her guard.

‘Ha. You’re sharp, Mr Peter Lazenby. But, yes, it’s my real name.’

‘Then I’m honoured you’ve chosen to share it with me. I, by the way, always go by my real name. It’s the only one I’ve ever needed.’

‘And what are you doing here, Mr Lazenby? Are you here on business, like my friend?’

‘I own the club, so that means I don’t ever do very much except watch people spending money at the bar and drink with the clientele. That is my business. And it’s Peter, if I buy you a drink.’

‘If you own the club, then you don’t have to buy the drinks, do you?’ Ruby smiles, putting the glass to her lips. ‘You can just help yourself to whatever you fancy, Peter.’

She is enjoying the flirtation, especially as he is doing most of the work.

‘I do just that. And you, Ruby, are, I think…’ He squints at her and rubs a thumb across his lower lip. ‘Either an actress or a dancer, or perhaps… A thief.’

‘Or all of the above,’ she says.

‘I thought so. I’ve been around enough of them. I noticed the way you were looking at my jacket, working out where my wallet was.’

‘You’ve a nice watch, too,’ she says.

He extends his arm to display it. ‘Ah, but not even the best of London’s pickpockets can take this. The clasp is too good. Cartier.’

‘Well, the best sort of thief would wait until you left it on your bedside table,’ she says, giving him a knowing look before taking another mouthful of the champagne.

He smiles at this. ‘I’m growing to like you, Ruby Mills. You’re my kind of thief.’