“But that’s all stopped! They don’t need the clinics any more, just this Parlour. And they all look like teenagers! It’s not fair!”

“Well,” I said reasonably, “If this Parlour is doing such a good job, why don’t you go there, too?”

“Because they won’t have me!” Percy slumped in his chair, and suddenly looked ten years older, as though he could only maintain his air of glamour through sheer effort of will these days. “I have offered to pay anything they want. Double, even triple the going rate. I begged and pleaded, Mr. Taylor! And they turned me away, as though I were nobody. Me! Percy D’Arcy! And now my friends don’t want me around any more. They say I don’t . . . fit in.

“Please, Mr. Taylor, I need you to find out what’s going on. Find out why the Parlour won’t let me in. Find out what they’re really doing behind those closed doors . . . and if they are cheating, shut them down! So I won’t be left out any more.”

“It’s not really my usual kind of case,” I said.

“I’ll pay you half a million pounds.”

“But clearly this is something that needs to be investigated. Leave it with me, Percy.”

He stood up abruptly, pulling his dignity back about him. “Here’s my card. Please inform me when you know something.” He tossed a very expensive piece of engraved paste-board on to the table before me, then stalked off back through the crowd with his head held high. A smattering of applause followed him. I picked up the card, tapped it thoughtfully against my chin a few times, and looked at Suzie.

“It’s something to do,” I said. “You interested?”

“I’ll come along,” said Suzie. “Just to keep you company. Will I get to kill anybody?”

“Probably not.”

Suzie shrugged. “The things I do for love.”