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were all forced to brake. He went round Parliament Square, and heard Big Ben strike ten; just ten o’clock on a busy morning. St. James’s Park and the Mall were empty; it wasn’t until he reached Piccadilly that he had traffic troubles, and they didn’t last very long.
    He pulled up outside 22 Gresham Terrace, slammed the car door, and appeared to notice nothing; not even the two men in a saloon car which was parked near a corner. The street door was often open by day, and he left it open and hurried upstairs, whistling cheerfully. He took his time getting his keys out, while listening intently. He heard no sound from the flat, but did hear a sound below, probably in the hall.
    The two men from the car?
    He peered over the edge of the banisters, to see two heavily built men approaching the foot of the stairs.
    He unlocked his own front door, opened it an inch or two, then closed it with an audible click, and started down the stairs. He kept close to the wall, so that the men would not be likely to see him until they were on the same flight of stairs.
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Chapter Seven
First Round
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    When Rollison reached the landing of the next flight, he heard the faint sound of a footfall; that was all. He went to the side of the banister and peered cautiously into the well. He could see only one of the men, but could hear the other. The stealthiness of their movements surprised him, for surely they thought he was inside the flat – and safely out of earshot. It seemed almost as if they were waiting for something to happen.
    Rollison went down another flight of stairs. Then he saw a head appear, followed by another. The men reached the landing below and started for the next flight, still very cautious. He was so placed that they couldn’t yet see him. As they came into full view, he jumped at them. They first saw him in mid-air, only a few feet above them, and the shock was so great that they stood as if mesmerised. He was so near that he could almost touch them with his feet when one of them gave a gasping cry, and turned to run. The other thrust his right hand towards his pocket, obviously going for a weapon, but he had no time to get it. Rollison crashed into him, bowling him over, and the man groaned as he toppled backwards. Rollison, his own fall broken, twisted to one side but couldn’t save himself from falling, too. He saw several things happen at once.
    The man who had turned to run was still on the move, now at the foot of this flight of stairs, turning and looking over his shoulder. He had one hand thrust outward’s, as if to save himself from banging into the wall. The man on this landing hit the back of his head against the floor with a crunching thud; then he lay still, arms and legs flopping down. A gun poked out of his coat pocket, obviously that was what he had been trying to get.
    If one man was armed—
    Rollison rolled over, reaching for the gun. He saw the man at the foot of the stairs swing round, saw the gun in his hand, too. There was a sharp hiss of sound, and Rollison flopped on to his stomach. He thought he heard a humming sound of a bullet but it might have been imagination. He levelled the gun he had taken, and squeezed the trigger; the recoil was sharp, but the sound very subdued. He heard the bullet strike the wall below; then there was a gasp. Still on his stomach, head towards the top of the stairs, he wriggled forward to peer down.
    The other man below was closer to the next flight of stairs than he had been. He held his gun cocked, but didn’t look as if he enjoyed the idea of a duel. He caught sight of Rollison and fired again as Rollison took another shot at him.
    â€œWith love to the Doc,” Rollison said, “but don’t add any kisses.”
    The man below him darted back out of sight, and odd little sounds suggested that he was on his way down. Rollison got to his feet and moved to a spot from which he could see the hall. The man appeared close