Brant smiled secretly. 'Is that where you come from?'
'Sure,' George said, realizing that this was a chance to reestablish himself. 'But it's some time ago. I must be slipping. Fancy letting a cheap crook like Robinson pull a fast one on me. If ever Kelly got to hear about it, he'd rib me to death.'
The thin, cold face remained expressionless. 'Kelly?'
George picked up his tankard and drank. The beer tasted warm and flat. Without looking at Brant, he said, 'Yeah—Frank Kelly. I used to work for him in the good old days.'
'Kelly?' Brant was still and tense. 'You mean, the gangster?'
George nodded. 'Sure,' he said, feeling an infuriating rush of blood mounting to his face. 'Poor old Frank. He certainly had a bad break.' He set his tankard down, and in an endeavour to conceal his confusion, he lit a cigarette. 'But, of course, that was some time ago.'
Brant's thin mouth twisted. 'Still, now you know, you're not going to let Robinson get away with this, are you?'
George suddenly saw the trap he had dug for himself. If Brant was to think anything of him, he'd have to go through with it.
'You bet I'm not,' he growled, scowling fiercely into his empty tankard.
'Good,' Brant said, a veiled, jeering look in his eyes. 'That'll save me some trouble. You'd know how to talk to him, wouldn't you?'
'I'll fix him,' George threatened, feeling a growing dismay. 'No one's ever pulled a fast one on me without regretting it.'
'I'll come with you,' Brant said softly. 'I'd like to see how you handle him.'
George shook his head. 'You'd better leave this to me,' he said feebly. 'I might lose my temper with him I don't want witnesses.'
'I'll come with you all the same.' Brant's thin lips tightened. 'You don't have to worry about me.'
They looked at each other. George felt himself wilt under the baleful look that had jumped into Brant's eyes.
'Okay,' he muttered uneasily. 'You can come along if you want to.'
There was a long pause and then he said, 'Well, we'd better do some work. You ready?'
Brant nodded. 'Yes.' He pushed himself away from the counter. 'Tonight'll be interesting,' he added, and followed George out of the bar.
3
George Fraser had little to say while he and Brant travelled by underground to Wembley. Talking was difficult in the swaying, roaring train, and he wanted time to think over what Brant had told him.
If what Brant had said were true, then Robinson had cheated him out of at least twenty pounds. George considered what he could have done with all that money. Twenty pounds! Why, he could have bought a second- hand car, he thought dismally. He had always wanted a car. He had no idea what he was going to say to Robinson when he saw him that night. If it hadn't been for Brant, he probably wouldn't have had the nerve to raise the matter at all; but now he had to make a show before this unpleasant, disturbing intruder. He would have to make a shot at persuading Robinson to fork up the twenty pounds. He hadn't much hope, as Robinson never seemed to have any money, but it might be worth trying. Of course, Robinson might turn nasty. He might even demand the return of all George's specimen copies of the Child's Self-Educator and then tell George to go to blazes. Then what would he do? It'd mean he'd be out of work again, and that thought appalled George.
Well, it was no good worrying, he decided gloomily. After all, Robinson was cheating him, and he couldn't expect to get away with it. He'd tackle him politely and firmly, and hope for the best. It wouldn't do for Brant to think he couldn't handle the situation. Brant seemed now to be regarding him with a little more respect since George had mentioned Frank Kelly. George pulled a face. He hoped Brant wouldn't say anything about that to anyone. He shot a furtive look at the blank, hard face. All he could see was the disagreeable, raw-looking scar and one vacant, glittering eye. Nasty young customer, he thought uneasily. Proper dead-end kid. He wondered if Brant believed him. You couldn't tell where you were with a fellow with such an expressionless face. Anyway Brant hadn't asked any questions, and he seemed to have accepted Kelly after a momentary glimmer of surprise.
The train pulled into Wembley station, and with a sigh of relief George got to his feet. He was glad to have something to do. He didn't want to think about Brant nor what he was going to say to Robinson that night. He forced this disagreeable prospect to the back of his mind and shambled along beside his companion.
'Now, our first job is to call at Radlet Road school,' he said, as they walked briskly up the High Road. 'I called in there yesterday and planted our circulars. You see, unless we know where the kids live, we can't get any orders. It isn't like selling vacuum cleaners, for instance. With vacuum cleaners ifs a straight door-to-door canvass. But in our line we have to know which homes have children and which haven't.' He paused while he fished a cigarette from a crumpled carton and offered it to Brant.
'I don't smoke,' Brant said shortly. They were the first words he had uttered since leaving the train.
'Oh, all right,' George looked at him blankly, and lit up. They moved on, and George said, 'Well, we've got to get the names and addresses of all the kids at the various Council schools. It isn't easy, because the teachers don't want to help us. You'd think they'd be glad for the kids to have the hooks, wouldn't you? But not they.' George breathed heavily through his thick nose. 'Of course, some of 'em do help, otherwise we'd get nowhere. But the majority are a lazy, suspicious lot. We have to persuade the teacher to pass our forms round the class and get the kids to put their names and addresses on them; then we collect the forms next day and make our calls. It sounds simple, doesn't it, but you wait . . . you'll see what I mean before long.'
All the time he was talking, Brant strode along at his side, his face expressionless and his eyes blank. For all George knew, he hadn't heard a word George had said.
This indifferent attitude annoyed George. All right, he thought, lapsing into a sulky silence, you think it's child's play, but just you wait. You'll find it's not all beer and skittles. You wait until you try to get an order. Be as superior as you like, but with a dial like yours you don't stand a hope. Do you think anyone will want to look at you
