'Wait!' bellowed Dalziel.

Connon turned once more, half out of the door.

'If you want a fairly precise statement of the amount of alcohol I had taken up to about ten past six, I suggest you contact the constables who administered a breathalyser test to me at that time in Longtrees Road. I thought that this was what you were going on about, not malicious gossip. Good day. I must get to my daughter.' Dalziel sat for a minute looking at the open door. Then he stood up and walked slowly over to it, scratching the back of his neck with an intensity that made his skin glow redly through the grey stubble. 'Sergeant,' he called, pitching his voice low, but with an intensity which easily carried it along the corridor to the desk. 'Would you step along here for a moment, if you'd be so kind? To discuss an organizational point.'

At the desk, the sergeant stopped whistling.

'Sorry, we don't start selling till twelve.'

'I'm a police officer,' said Pascoe. 'I don't start buying till I'm off duty.' Sid Hope slowly rose from his crouching position behind the bar. 'Oh yes? I'm Hope, the club treasurer. What can I do for you? Is there some trouble? About the licence, I mean?' 'Should there be?' said Pascoe. 'You don't allow nonmembers to buy drinks, do you? Normally?' 'Of course not. When we know, that is. But I didn't know who you were. On my knees, trying to set up a new keg. It's like a bloody heart-transplant operation getting one of these things operational.' Pascoe merely looked thoughtful at this attempt to bring in a lighter note. 'Anyway, I don't know them all. You could be a member. There's one or two from the police who are. Superintendent Dalziel for one.' 'Is that so? How do you run the bar, Mr Hope? A duty roster?' Sid looked happy to get on to more general ground. That's right. We have a committee, me in charge, plus half a dozen others. We take it in turn to look after things for a week.'