The man released him, and he doubled up on the floor.

As he did so, the driver turned in his seat and spoke through the glass partition.

“He’s there.”

‘He’ meant Lemaitre; ‘there’ meant the Old Steps.

“Sure?”

“I saw him go in.”

“Okay,” said the man in the corner. “You know what to do.”

“Sure, I know. Don’t do anything in my cab, though.”

“Nothing that will show,” the other promised.

Charlie was now leaning against the edge of the seat for support. His expression was one of piteous entreaty as for the first time, he saw the face of the man who was tormenting him. It was a hard, handsome face, with deep-set eyes, a deep groove between the heavy black brows and a deep cleft in the chin. In new and abject terror, he realised that it was John Spratt, one of the three brothers who owned the vast betting-shop network that was Jackie Spratt’s Limited.

“So you weren’t going to see Lemaitre at the Old Steps?” John Spratt said heavily.

“No — I swear I wasn’t! I was just going for a drink — a drink on the terrace  —  I love the river, and —”

“So you love the river?” John Spratt’s dark eyes glinted with a strange kind of merriment. “Okay, Charlie Blake, I’ll see you get plenty of river!”

Then he laughed. And his laughter sent a terrible chill through the man whom Lemaitre was waiting to see in the pub overlooking the Thames.

Gideon slept fitfully that night, as far away from Kate, his wife, as he could get in their big double bed. The merest touch of body against body created oven-heat. With every window and door wide open, there was still not a breath of air.

Lemaitre, moody and troubled because his informant had let him down, and not looking forward to making his report to Gideon tomorrow, was restless, too. But his wife in her bed, the clothes thrown off, lay outstretched and beautifully naked. There was enough light from a street lamp for Lemaitre to be acutely aware of her body, especially at certain moments; and he kept turning on his back. He would love to be with her, but it was too hot, everything would be spoiled. And it was a pity to wake her.