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there as soon as the piece is in the paper,’ said Eddie. ‘Believe me, our swindlers will be there right away, to survey the place.’

    It was around midday when Byrne and Tosher arrived at Well Street, and they were not alone. There was a small crowd there, some of the number gathered having notebooks, and there was also a photographer setting up. All eyes were on the first-floor window, and everyone listened to Harry, who was, for the day only, Mr Delmont of the Dilettante Club. He wore his most gaudy waistcoat, and a tie verging on the loud and assertive. Even his usual grey coat had been abandoned and replaced by a light fawn sports jacket, and on his head was a checked cloth bowler hat. His Cambridge friends would not have recognised him.
    ‘Gentlemen, you are gazing at the very room. Observe the long window for the necessary light, and that neat little balcony … an Italianate touch for our great artist. As you know, he painted the English rising of autumn sunrise amazingly well …’
    ‘We must get the place, Tosher,’ Byrne said. ‘Think of the pull of that address! The rent would be a sound investment. We’d appear honest and legitimate in the actual, approved studio!’ Byrne insisted on boldly walking across to join the crowd, but Tosher, nervous, dropped back.
    The crowd had moved in close to Harry, who was standing on a box so he could be seen as he spoke. In the middle of his speech, he saw Byrne approach – he matched Cara’s description very well, even down to the green cravat. Harry gave the nod and before Byrne could move, he was held by two pairs of strong arms and he turned to see two police constables, fixing their glare on him.
    ‘Mr Byrne, I believe?’ said Harry, and immediately Byrne shouted, ‘Tosher … help!’ but the big man was already running. From behind Harry, Eddie ran out, followed by two more officers, all giving chase to Tosher.
    ‘This will be the man who attacked me, boys!’ yelled Eddie.
    Tosher, in sheer panic, took a right turn into Smithfield. He was heavily built but he could gather some speed, and was soon on the edge of St Katherine’s Dock. Moving quickly he lunged for the first turning that appeared, and found himself running through an arched siding, like a dank tunnel, with massive beer barrels on both sides of him. A shout from behind called, ‘You – stop there! This is the law!’
    He ran but felt his pace slowing. ‘No, not inside again … I will not go back into that black hell! I will not!’
    His heart was thumping so hard he felt the echo in his throat. He turned to see his pursuers, but in that second he took a sidestep and hit a rack holding a barrel. The massive bulk of it rolled into the side of his leg and he was knocked six feet aside, as the weight settled on an ankle. Tosher heard the running footsteps coming nearer and nearer. Only twenty feet ahead was the edge of the dock and the pool of water beyond. With one last effort of strength he pulled free of the barrel’s rim and crawled to the water’s edge.
    Eddie Carney was ahead of his men, wanting to grab the man who had meant to kill him just two nights ago. He saw the huge figure teetering on a fence and then the man’s weight fell forward and lurched towards the brown water. Tosher had time to turn, so that Eddie saw his face, and the detective heard the big man cry, ‘I’m not going back, bobby, I’m not going back in there!’

ADVENTURE TWO
A Thief in the Night
    ‘Really, Lacey, you have none of the skills required for billiards!’ said the tall aristocrat as the white ball slammed against the cushion and bounced into the air. He and his friend, Professor Harry Lacey of Cambridge, were enjoying a game at the Septimus Club. Lacey merely smiled, enjoying the ribbing. His long hair flopped into his eyes and his pince-nez slipped rather when he tried to concentrate on a shot.
    ‘Well I’ve had enough for tonight, George … too tired,’ he said, absentmindedly chalking the