That suited me. I was good at looking decorative. I filled my glass, lit a cigarette, relaxed. It was nice to watch her moving about the room. I decided suddenly that it mightn't be a bad idea to keep her at that.

"Tell me, sugar," I said, "have you been keeping your eyes and ears open at the club?"

"Oh, yes. The trouble is I don't know what to listen for. I'll tell you something though." She paused in laying the table, turned to look at me. "I was at the club this afternoon and an odd sort of man came in asking for Bradley. He reminded me a little of the man I saw with Netta a" the one I was telling you about with the Bentley."

"Go on," I said, interested.

"I don't know if it was the same man, but he was the same build, and there was something familiar about him that rang a bell. He was big and fat and fair. I thought he looked a bit of a pansy."

"Had he a habit of wagging his head? Did you notice that? And was his hair cut very short?"

She nodded. "Do you know him?"

"It sounds like my old pal Julius Cole," I said. "What happened?"

"Well, Bradley came out of his office, glared at him, said, 'What the hell do you want?' This man said, 'I've got to see you, Jack, it's important'. Bradley looked sort of put out, then he took Cole into his office. I didn't hear what happened, of course."

I stubbed out my cigarette, lit another. "Think carefully. Did anything happen at all after that?"

"I saw Frankie go into Bradley's office, and later he came out and went to the garage. He spoke to Sam and said something about going down to the country right away. I could see he was wild with rage, but I can't remember anything else happening."

"You've remembered enough," I said, crossed over to the telephone, turned up Merryweather in the book. I found his private address, put through a call.

He answered himself.

"This is Harmas here," I said. "Can you get in touch with Littlejohns at once and warn him to look out for a man who's on his way to Lakeham?"

Merryweather said he could. There was surprise in his voice. He asked for a description, and I gave him an accurate picture of Julius Cole. "He'll probably arrive in a Standard Fourteen," I said, gave the licence number. "Tell Littlejohns not to lose sight of him, even if it means taking his eyes off Mrs. Brambee. Cole is important. I guess he'll be staying with Mrs. Brambee anyway. Will you get on to that right away?"

Merryweather promised to call Littlejohns immediately, hung up.

Crystal was listening to all this, her eyes wide with interest.

"You know I get a thrill out of hearing your voice when you get businesslike," she said. "It's like being in a movie with Humphrey Bogart."

"You remember what Bogart did to Bacall?" I asked, advancing and making faces at her.

"I seem to remember it wasn't very polite," she said, backing hurriedly away.

I grabbed her, did what Bogart had done to Bacall, asked her how she liked it.

"I'd forgotten," she sighed, holding me close. "Much more, please."

I had a sudden idea. "Tell me, honey, did you ever meet a guy named Jacobi at the club?"

She shook her head. "You mean the one who was murdered? Oh, no, I didn't know him, but I knew his wife, Selma. She used to be one of the girls at the club before she married him. She was a sweet kid and crazy about George. I haven't seen her since he was killed. I don't know where she's living. I wanted to see her because I knew she'd be terribly cut-up at losing George, although he wasn't a great loss as far as I could see."

"Selma Jacobi," I said thoughtfully, "maybe she fits in this puzzle, too."

Crystal tightened her grip around my neck. "Could we forget all this just for a little while?" she pleaded. "I don't believe you care for me one little bit. All you're interested in is your horrid old puzzles."

"Not all the time," I said.

"Could we have a little fun this very moment?" she asked, pressed her lips on mine.

We had fun.

chapter fourteen.

They were waiting for me as I came out of Crystal's flat. I guess I asked for it. I should have been on my guard after Bradley's threat, but the hectic couple of hours I'd spent with Crystal had numbed me, and I stepped into the dark street without the slightest suspicion of what was coming to me.

It happened so quickly that I could only give a strangled shout before something crashed down on my head and I blacked out.

I recovered to find myself lying on the floor of a fast moving car, an evil smelling rug over my head and shoulders, someone's heavy feet on my chest. My head ached, and the rug threatened to stifle me.

I lay still, tried to make out what had happened. I guessed this was Bradley's idea of teaching me to mind my own business. I wasn't happy, wondered where I was being taken, and if I was going to have my throat slit. Cautiously I moved my hands. They were free and so were my legs. Maybe whoever had cracked me on the head had underestimated the thickness of my skull.

The two feet lifted, thumped down on me again.

"Keeps quiet, don't he?" a voice said.

"I 'ope you didn't bash 'im too 'ard, Joe," another voice said.

"Not me," Joe said. "I only patted 'is 'ead with my fist. a E'll be orl right once I tug 'is ears a bit."

I grimaced. Having my ears tugged was not one of my favourite pastimes.

"We oughter be there by now," the second voice went on. " 'Ere, Bert, 'ow much farther is it?"

"Just 'ere," the first voice said. "This'll do, won't it?"

"Yes, this is orl right," Joe said.

The car slowed, bumped over uneven ground, stopped. "Nice quiet spot wid no one to interfere wid us," Bert remarked.

Three of them, I thought. Well, three were better than four. I lay still, waited developments.

Boots trod on me; the car doors opened; feet scraped on gravel.

"Get 'im out, and be careful 'e ain't foxing," Bert said. 'Ere, Joe, you 'andle 'im. Ted and me'll stand by just in case 'e stares any funny business."

"I 'ope 'e does," the man called Joe replied. "I don't like bashing a bloke in cold blood."

I began to like Joe a little.

The other two laughed. "That's a good 'un," Bert sneered. "I ain't so particular, nor's Ted. Are you, Ted?"

"I'm looking forward to bashing the bugger," Ted said cheerfully. "I ain't 'ad any exercise for the past two weeks."

Hands grabbed my ankles. I was dragged bodily out of the car. My shoulders hit on the running-board, but I managed to keep my head clear as I thudded to the ground. I remained still, waited patiently for someone to take off the rug.

"You sure you didn't 'it 'im too 'ard?" Ted asked. " 'E's a bit quiet."

"But not for long, matey," Joe said. "Let's 'ave a look at 'im."

The rug was dragged off. I felt the cool night air on my face.

Cautiously I looked between half-closed lids. I could see three massive figures standing over me, stars and a dark sky above me, trees and bushes nearby. It seemed to me I was on some sort of common.

"Strike a match, Ted," Joe growled, bending over me, "and let's 'ave a look at 'im."

I tensed my muscles, waited.

The feeble flickering light from the match lit up Joe's broad, broken features. He looked like an all-in wrestler. He had the kind of puss you dream about after a lobster supper. He knelt beside me, took hold of my chin between fingers that felt like iron. I didn't dare wait any longer. Whipping back my knees and twisting sideways, I jack-knifed into him with my feet, catching him in the middle of his chest. It was like kicking a brick wall.

With a roar of rage and surprise, he shot over backwards.

I squirmed around, got up on my hands and knees.

One of the other massive shapes came at me. He leapt high into the air and descended feet first-the old, spectacular all-in wrestling pounce that looks so easy but isn't. I had a split second to get out of the way. I managed it, swung a wild punch at the man's head as he thudded into the soft soil a half a foot away from me. The guy's skull was made of stone, and I felt a jar run up my arm as my fist connected.

I was on my feet now. The third man had arrived with a crouching rush. He caught me on the shoulder with a half-arm swing that sent me spinning backwards. I steadied up, ducked a haymaker that started from his ankles, socked him in the left eye with everything I had.

I didn't wait to see the effect, but turned on my heel and scrammed across the thick grass.

The common was as flat as a plate, seemed to stretch for miles.

Apart from bushes and an occasional tree there was no cover, nowhere to hide. It looked as if my only chance of escape was to run and keep running. I dug my elbows into my sides, tore across the grass, hoped -I was in better condition than the other three.

Wild yells and oaths followed me, then silence. I ran on until I heard the car start up, then looked over my shoulder.

They weren't going to run after me. They preferred the easy way.

They were coming after me by car.

Although the grass was thick, it was quite possible to drive a car over it. I knew in less than a couple of minutes they'd be all over me.

I slowed down, but kept moving. I didn't want to be breathless when they did catch up with me, but I wasn't anxious to come to grips with them any sooner than I could help. My future didn't look too good. Maybe they wouldn't kill me, but they'd do the next best thing.

I thought of Bradley, waiting for these thugs to tell him what they had done to me, and I cursed him.

The car was only a few yards off now. Joe and Ted were hanging on, standing on the running-boards. As soon as they got within reach of me, they jumped off, and closed in on me.

I dodged Joe, ran in the opposite direction. Ted came rushing after me. I slowed, let him come up, then dropped on hands and knees. His knees cannoned into my side and he went head first into the grass. Before Joe got within reach I was off again, but this time Bert had manoeuvred the car so I was sandwiched between the car and Joe, I wheeled around, waited for Joe who came at me, cursing and waving his arms. I ducked under them, straightened, caught him a clout on the end of his nose which sent him reeling back.

But I couldn't keep this dodging up forever. They would catch me in the end, and by that time I'd be so winded I'd be at their mercy. A big tree a few yards away decided me. I swerved past Bert who came lumbering up, ran across to the tree, set my shoulders against it, waited for them.

I had time to look around the expanse of ground. There was not a house or building to be seen, nor could I see any car lights to indicate a main road. The spot was as bleak and as lonely as a Welsh mountain.

The three men sorted themselves out, came forward, stopped before me.

As I surveyed them I thought the dying gladiator was a happy man beside me. I lifted my fists to show them they weren't going to have it all their own way, waited.

Bert and Ted stood to my right and left. Joe was in the centre.

"Now, chum," Joe said, drawing near, "we're gonna bash you, and then you're getting outa this country, see? If you don't, we'll collect you again and bash you some more, see? Arid we'll go on bashing you until you do go, see?"

"I get the idea," I said, watching them closely. "But don't blame me if you guys get hurt. I don't usually fight with guys below my weight and strength. It's against my principles."

Joe roared with laughter. "That's a 'ot 'un," he said. "We know 'ow to take care of ourselves, matey. It's you who're going to get 'urt."

I had an uneasy feeling that he wasn't going to be far wrong. "Go on, paste 'im, Joe," Ted urged. "When you're through wid 'im I'll 'ave a go."

"There won't be much left of 'im by the time I'm through," Joe said, doubling his fists.

"I ain't particular," Ted said. "Just so long as you leave me something to work on."

Joe slouched forward, his bullet head low, his thick lips drawn off his teeth. He looked as attractive as a gorilla, twice as dangerous.

I waited for him in the shadow of the tree, glad the moon was behind me.

He kept coming, his big feet shuffling over the grass, making a slight swishing sound. He wasn't quite sure of me, didn't know if I could hurt him or not. He wasn't taking any chances.

"Don't take all night," Ted called impatiently. "I wanna go 'ome even if you don't."

"Don't rush him," I said, suddenly waving my arms, and made a move towards Joe, who cursed, stepped back, then darted forward, his left list shooting towards my heal. I slipped the punch, hit him in the ribs, swung a right to his jaw. He backed away with a grunt, came at me again. A haymaker whistled past my head, a left grazed my ear.

I uncorked a right that caught him in the throat, lifted him off his feet and stretched him flat on his back.

I blew on my knuckles, stepped back against the tree, looked over at Ted.

"You're next, son," I said. "I treat 'em all the same, no favouritism, no waiting."

Ted and Bert gaped at Joe, then, together, rushed at me.

I thought at least I've hurt one of the punks, hit Bert on the nose, collected a punch on the side of the head from Ted that made my teeth rattle. Bert flung himself on me, snarling, his great fists thudded into my body. He was quite a hitter. I felt as if Tower Bridge had fallen on me. I shoved him off, measured him, socked a couple of lefts into his flat, ugly puss. Ted came up, caught me with a right, and I countered with a left. Then suddenly a light exploded inside my head and I felt myself falling.

I came to a moment or so later. I was lying on the grass, someone was kicking my ribs very hard. I rolled away, tried to get up, but another lick sent me flat again.

I heard Joe bawling savagely, "Lemme get at him."

I had time to see him rushing at me, leap high into the air. I managed to twist sideways, grab his foot. He tried to pull away, but I had a hold. I turned his foot, wrenched it, threw my weight on it. I had the satisfaction of hearing a bone go, and Joe's howl of pain, then a hand seized my hair, and a fist like a lump of iron crashed on my chin.