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can pronounce it and that I reminisce with him about Penang are reasons enough for him to respect me, and give me a private room when I require it.’
    George did not know where or what Penang was. And, although he got the general drift of the other man’s words, the meaning of ‘polysyllabic’ was unfamiliar to him. The individual who’d been about to light an opium-pipe was someone of education and breeding, no doubt about it. You only had to listen to his talk for a few moments to realize he was a cultured gentleman. He might have come down in the world and grown thin and pinched in the face. He might have lost most of what he once had but he still possessed a certain authority. Perhaps it was on account of his old profession, George thought. That was how they had met, through his old profession. George had good reason to be grateful, eternally grateful, to the man he always referred to as ‘sir’.
    â€˜Well, what have you learned?’
    â€˜It’s quite simple, sir. I hung around their drum and asked around their neighbourhood today and yesterday and I visited the shops and picked up a few titbits.’
    â€˜Such as?’
    George raised his left hand and enumerated the points, one finger at a time. ‘They are newly married. They recently moved into Abercrombie Road. They’ve got a maid called Hetty who’s got a sister livin’ a few streets away.’
    â€˜I’m not interested in the maid or her sister,’ said the cadaverous man, gazing up at the low ceiling where the shadows jumped.
    â€˜What I’m gettin’ at, sir, is there’s just the three of ’em in the house.’
    â€˜No little ones?’
    â€˜Not yet.’
    â€˜That’s good,’ said the gentleman.
    â€˜Why’s that, sir?’
    â€˜Never mind. Give me more details.’
    â€˜His name is Ansell, which you already know. First name Thomas. Hers is Helen. He works at a lawyers’ in Furnival Street, he does. She’s the daughter of a lawyer, deceased, of the same firm, so it’s all very cosy.’
    â€˜What time does he get back in the evening?’
    â€˜â€™Bout six or so.’
    â€˜And go to bed?’
    â€˜I saw no lights after ten,’ said George.
    â€˜Hmm,’ said the other. ‘Well, they’re newly married, I suppose. Street lights?’
    â€˜Nearest one’s many yards away. You want any more help, sir? Any more kit? Just ask. I got one or two pieces left over. An’ I got the know-how.’
    â€˜No, I don’t want any more help, George. I am not yet decided what to do.’
    â€˜What about the other two, the ones I’ve already reported on?’
    â€˜I am still thinking about them as well. You may leave now, George.’
    And the cadaverous individual leaned forward and started his pipe going at the candle. It was a sign of dismissal. George sprang up from the mattress where the white-faced woman slumbered oblivious, her eyelids completely closed by now. He put on his mackintosh, almost knocking over the candle as he did so. The shadows swirled across the tight walls and low ceiling.
    â€˜Careful,’ said the other. ‘We don’t want to be left darkling, do we? Shut the door behind you.’
    George did as he was told. He climbed the stairs, pushed aside the tattered curtain and paced through the long low room full of men and a few women banked in tiers and sprawled in various attitudes in their roosts. The red embers pulsed in the furthest shadows like the eyes of nocturnal beasts. The individual who attended on the outer door was revealed, now that George’s eyes were more used to the gloom, to be an oriental woman, very diminutive and antique.
    Once he had been let out and climbed the worn steps to street level, George paused and took in great lungfuls of the drizzly air as if he were striding along the North Downs rather than standing heel-deep in the filth of Penharbour