As the door closed, Miller turned to Macek. “Now then, you bastard, let’s get down to it.”

“I’ve got nothing to say,” Macek said woodenly.

Brady laughed harshly and there was a heavy silence. Macek looked furtively at Miller, who was examining his fingernails, and said desperately, “All right, so I knocked her around a little. Bloody little tart. She had it coming.”

“Why?” Brady demanded.

“I took her in,” Macek said. “Gave her a place to stay. The best of everything. Then I find her sneaking out at two in the morning with my wallet, my watch and everything else of value she could lay her hands on. What would you have done?”

He sounded genuinely aggrieved and Miller picked up the girl’s statement. “She says here that you’ve been living together for five weeks.”

Macek nodded eagerly. “I gave her the best — the best there was.”

“What about the men?”

“What men?”

“The men you brought round to the house every night. The men who called because they needed a woman.”

“Do me a favour,” Macek said. “Do I look like a pimp?”

“Don’t press me to answer that,” Miller told him.

“You’ve kept the girl under lock and key for the past two weeks. When she couldn’t take any more, you beat her up and threw her out.”

“You try proving that.”

“I don’t need to. You said you’ve been living together as man and wife.”

“So what? It’s a free country.”

“She’s just fifteen.”

Macek’s face turned grey. “She can’t be.”

“Oh, yes she can. We’ve got her record card.”

Macek turned desperately to Brady. “She didn’t tell me.”

“It’s a hard cruel world, isn’t it, Macek?” Brady said.

The Pole seemed to pull himself together. “I want a lawyer.”

“Are you going to make a statement?” Miller asked.