'So long, Joe.'
They stepped into the still, hot night.
'It's like an oven isn't it?' Fay said, linking her arm through Ken's.
They walked down the alley to the main street and paused to look for a taxi.
'One will be along in a moment,' Fay said, opened her bag and took out a pack of cigarettes. She offered one to Ken, and they both lit up.
Ken glanced across the road as he noticed a man come out of an opposite alley. He had a brief glimpse of him before the man stopped abruptly, moved quickly out of the rays of a street light into the shadows: a tall, thin, blond man not wearing a hat, young and from what Ken saw of him, good looking.
Ken thought nothing of this at the time, but later he was to remember this man.
A taxi came around the corner and Fay waved.
They sat side by side in the darkness of the cab. Fay leaned against him, holding his hand, her head against his shoulder.
It was an extraordinary thing, he found himself thinking, but I feel I've known this girl for years.
He was completely at ease in her company now, and he knew he would have to make a very strong effort to resist the temptation of seeing her again.
'How long have you been on this racket?' he asked.
'About a year.' She glanced up at him. 'And Buster, darling, please don't start trying to reform me. It's such an old, old gag, and I get so tired of guys telling me I should be a good girl.'
'I guess you would get tired of a line like that. It's not my business, but I should have thought you could have made a success of anything you took up. You dance so well. Isn't there anything in that for you now?'
'Maybe, but I just don't want to go back to dancing. Without the right partner it's no fun. What do you do for a living, Buster?'
He saw the danger of telling her that. There were only three banks in the city. It wouldn't be hard to fond him again. He had read enough accounts of professional men getting themselves blackmailed to take the chance of telling her what he did.
'I work in an office,' he said cautiously.
She looked at him and laughed, patting his hand.
'Don't look so scared. I've told you before: I'm perfectly harmless.' She moved away so she could face him. 'You took an awful risk tonight, Buster.
Do you realize that?'
He laughed*awkwardly.
'Oh, I don't know ...'
'But you did. You are happily married and you have a position to keep up. Suddenly out of the blue, you call up a girl you don't know anything about and have never seen and make a blind date with her. You might have picked one of the floosies who live in my block. Any of those harpies would have battened on to you and you would have had a hell of a struggle to shake them off.'
'It wasn't as bad as that. You were recommended to me by a friend.'
'He wasn't much of a friend, Buster,' she said seriously. 'My old man had a saying that applies to you. Whenever I wanted to do something risky, he would tell me to watch my step. 'Be careful,' he would say, 'you might be catching a tiger by its tail.' I've never forgotten that saying. Don't you forget it either, Buster. You're going to forget all about me after tonight. If you get the wayward feeling again, don't call me up. I won't see you.' She took his hand and squeezed it. 'I wouldn't like you to get into trouble because of me.'
Ken was touched.
'You're a funny girl: too good for this racket.'
She shook her head.
'I wish I was. It just happens, Buster, there's something about you that's made me soft tonight.' She laughed. 'We'll be letting our hair down in a moment and sobbing over each other. Well, here we are.'
Ken paid off the taxi, and together they walked up the steps and opened the front door.
They began the long climb to the top floor.
It was probably because she had underlined the risk he was running; something he knew for himself, but something he had dismissed because it had suited him to dismiss it, that, as he climbed the stairs, he was suddenly apprehensive. He should have dropped her at her apartment block and taken the taxi back to his own home, he told himself. He had had a swell evening. There was no point in continuing this escapade any further.
A tiger by the tail, she had said. Suppose now the tiger suddenly awoke?
But in spite of his uneasiness, he continued to climb the stairs after her, until they reached the fourth landing.
Facing them as they mounted the last few stairs, stood the fawn Pekinese. Its bulging bloodshot eyes surveyed them stonily, and it gave a sudden shrill yap that made Ken's heart skip a beat.
As if waiting for the signal, the fourth-floor front door opened quickly, and Raphael Sweeting appeared.
He wore a threadbare silk dressing-gown over a pair of black lounging pyjamas. Pasted to his moist thick underlip was an unlighted cigarette.
