She’d trodden on something sharp, which must have hurt because her feet were bare. So was the rest of her, almost.

She was wearing a silver lacy dress, tight at the waist and slit high at the thigh. The water not only made it cling to her, it also made it virtually transparent. So now I could see what had been writhing against me.

She was beautiful-slender, perfectly proportioned, rounded, dainty, sexy, provocative. This was getting very difficult.

Make me strong, I prayed silently to the guy who helps me on these occasions. Let me at least act like a gentleman, even if I don’t feel like one right now.

But he must have been off-duty tonight, because there was the warmth, growing stronger every moment.

I returned to normal consciousness to discover that we were having an infuriated discussion about casinos. I think I accused her of having an accomplice inside, but don’t ask me how we reached that point. I know we ended up scrabbling around on the ground for the cash that had fallen out of my pocket in the struggle.

I suppose it was when she mentioned the British Consul that I realised I’d got it wrong, and she really wasn’t a thief.

‘Where are you running from?’ I asked.

‘A yacht. It’s called The Silverado and it’s moored down there. Look.’ She pointed down into the harbour. ‘That one. Right next to the big vulgar one.’

‘You mean The Hawk?’ I asked cautiously.

‘You know it?’ Now she definitely sounded hostile.

‘Why do you make that sound like a crime?’

So she told me all about The Hawk, how its boss was a creep called Jack Bullen, better known as Bully Jack.

I was glad she couldn’t see me too well at that moment.

‘Hugh Vanner has been trying to crawl to him,’ she seethed.

‘That makes this Vanner character a creep,’ I said, ‘but why Bullen?’

‘Because Vanner would only crawl to an even bigger creep than himself. He even sent him gold and diamond cufflinks. I ask you!’