For a moment or so he stood listening, his ear pressed against the panel of the door, then hearing nothing, he turned the handle and pulled the door open.
He looked into a passage, dimly lit by a light coming from the hall. He moved out of the room, closing the door after him. Then he walked silently to the head of the staircase and again paused to listen.
From the room below he heard a man say, "It was easy. He came to the window and I nailed him."
Moving like a shadow, Don started down the stairs.
"Then he's dead?" a woman's voice said.
Don pricked up his ears at her accent: it was unmistakably Italian. He reached the foot of the stairs. The dim light that lit the hall was coming through a half-open door at the far end of the passage.
"Of course he's dead," Shapiro said. "Now look, let's have the money. I want to get the hell out of here."
"But can you prove to me that he is dead?" Lorelli asked.
Shapiro stared at her.
"What do you mean? If you don't believe me, go out there and take a look at him."
"Don't talk like a fool. When I have seen the morning papers, I'll pay you and not before."
Don edged forward so he could peer into the room. There were only a few sticks of furniture in the room: two chairs, a broken-down settee with some of the springs exposed and a tea chest on which stood a lighted candle stuck into a bottle.
Across the two windows were nailed two grey, dirty blankets.
He took all this in with one swift glance. His attention then centred on the two people in the room.
The man sat astride one of the chairs. He was tall and thin: his dark, cruel face had a wolfish look. He was staring with angry intent eyes at the girl who leaned against the wall, the flickering light of the candle falling directly on her.
She was above average height and around twenty-five or six, She was beautiful in a cold, hard way; her face was pale and her full-lipped mouth in contrast looked startlingly red, but it was her thick wavy hair that attracted his attention.
The colour was Venetian red, a colour that's rarely seen these days in Italy.
A cigarette hung from her glistening lips. Her arms were folded across her breasts. Under the open white mackintosh she wore a white sweater and black slacks.
"You're not kidding, are you?" Shapiro asked, glaring at her.
"I have been instructed to pay you when the job's done," Lorelli said. "I'll know by the papers tomorrow morning if it has been done or not."
"I want the money now," Shapiro snarled. "I've got to have it. Look, I've a boat waiting for me. I need the money to complete the purchase. I can be in France by tomorrow morning if I buy the boat tonight."
"You heard what I said," Lorelli said coldly. Her hands slid into the pockets of her mackintosh. "I'm not going to argue with you."
Shapiro licked his dry lips.
"Now, look, baby, don't let's quarrel. How about coming with me? I'm starting a new racket when I've got the boat. I could use a smart kid like you."
"Could you?" Lorelli said, her eyes hard. "But I couldn't use a fool like you."
Shapiro grinned at her.
"Come off it. Let's be pals. Call me Ed. You and I could get places, working together. Let's have the dough' and come with me, Lorelli. What about it?"
"You'll have the money tomorrow morning and not before," Lorelli said sharply. "I'll bring it here at eight o'clock."
"That's what you think," Shapiro snarled, getting to his feet and kicking the chair out of his way. "We're going back to your place and we're going to collect that dough right now. I have ways of taming a twist like you."
She leaned against the wall, her green eyes watchful, her face expressionsless.
"Have you?" she said, "and I have ways of taming a rat like you." Her hand slid out of her mackintosh pocket. The .25 automatic she held pointed at Shapiro's face. "Get out of my way!"
Shapiro suddenly became deflated. He stepped hastily back.
Don didn't wait to hear any more. He went up the stairs, silently and fast, let himself through the window, closed it and within seconds had joined Harry in the archway.
"The woman's coming out in a moment," he said. "I'm going after her. Stay here and watch the house. I don't think our bird will move, but if he does, don't lose him."
"Okay; sir," Hairy said.
As he spoke the door of the house opened and the girl came out. She closed the door, then set off along the pavement towards the lights of Old Compton Street.
Keeping in the shadows and moving silently, Don went after her.
A half an hour later, Don was in a telephone box in Shepherd Market, speaking to Inspector Horrocks.
"This is Micklem," he was saying. "My chauffeur did spot our man leaving "the house. He followed him to 25, Athens Street. There's a woman connected with this as well. She's at Market Mews. I'm watching her place and Mason's watching the other house."
"Well, I'll be hanged," Horrocks said. "Good work, sir. I'll have patrol cars sent to you both right away, and I'll be with you myself in ten minutes."
"Fine," Don said, and hung up.
He left the telephone box and returned to where he could watch the flat above a grocer's shop into which the redheaded girl had disappeared.
She hadn't been easy to follow. She had taken a taxi from Shaftesbury Avenue, and Don had been lucky enough to pick up another taxi before hers disappeared into Piccadilly. Leaving the taxi at Half Moon Street, the girl had walked along the park side of Piccadilly up Park Lane, looking back continually. Don had somehow managed to hang on to her without being seen, and he had finally spotted her entering the flat above the grocer's shop, using the side entrance. A moment or so later a light had come up in the upper window. He had waited for twenty minutes or so, and when the light had gone out, he had first checked there was no back exit to the flat, then had hurried to the telephone box that was only a few yards from the grocer's shop.
He had scarcely got back to the wantage ground where he could watch the flat when out of the darkness came two police officers.
"Mr Micklem?" one of them asked.
"You've been quick," Don said. "She's in that flat up there."
"Okay, sir," the policeman said. "Inspector Horrocks is on his way. He asked us to stick around. Here, Bill, go into Hertford Street and make sure there's no back way to this place."
The other policeman nodded and went away.
Don lit a cigarette. He felt a little tired. The shock of Guido's death had been a stiff one and now the reaction was beginning to set in.
He and the policeman watched the darkened window for the next ten minutes. Then the big figure of Inspector Horrock's followed by three plain-clothes men' came out of the darkness.
"Well, sir," Horrocks said, "this is a bit of luck. What's been happening?"
Briefly Don told him how Harry had seen the thin man leave Ferenci's house and had followed him to Athens Street.
"The woman joined him about two or three minutes before I arrived," he went on. "I broke in. This fellow - he calls himself Ed and the woman Lorelli - was demanding his money for killing Ferenci." He repeated "the exact conversation he had overheard. "She's paying him at eight o'clock tomorrow."
"I doubt it," Horrocks said. "That's nice work, Mr Micklem. I've sent Hurst and Maddox over to Athens Street. They won't make a move without my say-so. Now let's see what she has to say for herself."
He crossed over to the shabby front door that led to the girl's flat.
"Stand by," he said to his men and lifting the knocker, he rapped loudly.
No one answered.
He hammered on the door several times, then stepped back.
"Okay," he said, "see if you can open the door."
Two burly plain-clothes men came forward. Two shoulders crashed against the door, and under the third assault the door burst open. The detectives darted up the steep narrow stairs.