Ken felt instinctively that this was a sore point with her, and he changed the subject.
'Who's the fat man who lives in the apartment below yours? The one with the Pekinese ?'
She turned her head sharply to look at him.
'Did you see him, then?'
'I met him on the stairs.'
Fay made a little grimace.
'He's a horrible little louse. No one knows what he does for a living. His name's Raphael Sweeting, believe it or not. He's always stopping me on the stairs. He uses that lap dog of his as an excuse to talk.'
The cab slowed down and pulled up outside a tall, dark building.
They got out of the cab, and Ken paid off the driver.
'Is this it ?' he said, staring up at the building.
'It's down this alley,' Fay said, slipping her arm through his. 'You needn't be scared you'll meet anyone you know. The members are strictly limited, and they don't come from your part of the world.'
Ken followed her down the narrow alley. At the end of it was a heavy oak door with a judas window. Over the door, fashioned cleverly from neon tubes was a big blue rose. Its blue light reflected faintly on the gleaming brass of the door's fitments.
Fay touched a bell-push by the side of the door.
They stood, side by side, waiting.
Away in the far distance came a rumble of thunder.
'Hear that?' Ken said.
'I've been expecting a storm all the evening. Let's hope it cools the air.'
The judas window slid back and a white thin face with hard expressionless eyes appeared for a brief moment, then the door opened.
'Evening, Miss Carson.'
The man who had opened the door was short and thickset with a mop of blond wavy hair. He eyed Ken over, and gave him a brief nod.
'Hello, Joe,' Fay said, smiling. 'Busy tonight?'
'So, so,' Joe returned. 'Your table's free.'
She nodded and led Ken across the bare lobby, down a passage to another heavy door. As she opened the door, the sound of a dance band reached them.
They walked down red-carpeted stairs where a hat check girl took Ken's hat. They went on into a big ornate bar.
There were a number of people in the bar, and Ken looked at them uneasily.
He saw at once he had nothing to worry about. Fay was right. These people certainly didn't come from his part of the world. The women were hard, showy and noisy. The men looked tough and sporting. Several of the women and a number of the men were in evening dress. None of them took any notice of Ken. Three or four of the men saluted Fay and men looked away.
The barman came over, wiping the shiny counter with a cloth.
'Evening, Miss Carson.'
'Two martinis, Jack.'
She climbed up on to a stool, while Ken stood at her side.
The barman served two martinis, and then moved away to serve a tall negro who had just come in.
Ken looked at the negro curiously.
He was a massive man, standing about six foot four, with shoulders that looked as wide as a barn door. His head was closely shaved, and he had a crinkled scar that began just under his right eye and went down in small puckers to his mouth.
He wore a lavender-coloured velveteen jacket, black trousers, a white nylon shirt and a mauve bow tie. A big diamond glittered in the centre of his shirt and flashed every time he moved.
'Hello, Sam,' Fay said, lifting her hand and wriggling her fingers at the negro.
He gave a slow, expansive smile, revealing a mouthful of big, gold-capped teeth.
'Enjoy yourself, honey,' he said in a deep, rich voice.
His black eyes dwelt on Ken for a brief moment, and then he gave him a little nod. He carried his drink across the room and sat down beside a thin mulatto girl in a low-cut green evening dress who was smoking a cigarette in a foot-long holder. She caught Fay's eye and waved.
'That's Sam Darcy,' Fay told Ken. 'He owns this joint. He gave me my first break. He's a swell guy. That's Claudette, his wife.'
'What a size he is!' Ken said, impressed.
'He used to be one of Joe Louis's sparring partners. He built up this club from nothing. I wish you could have
