Strathallan subsided, his minor victory won.

"Well, he's only recently become a Member," he replied, carefully emphasising the word, "Although he's been here as a guest numerous times over the last decade or so. Sometimes, as the guest of one Member or another who might have been a little short of liquidity from time to time."

I grunted noncommittally. Typical behaviour. Balloch desperately wanted to become one of the elite, and was not above bribing a few hard-up members with the price of a good dinner or two in order to get a good recommendation to the Committee.

"And since he's been a Member?" I prompted.

"Here's been eating here regularly; two or thee times a week. Mostly on his own, although he does seem popular in the smoking room afterwards."

I nodded. Buying large brandies for anybody within earshot, and allowing himself to be buttonholed by the bores and drunks that would congregate in such places.

"And when he doesn't dine alone?"

"Always a single guest. Sometimes an older gentleman who struck me as a business associate. Or sometimes he enjoys the company of a young lady: always a different one, but always tall and displaying a certain athletic quality."

"Did the girls like him?"

"They always seemed suitably appreciative. Enjoyed their dinners, drank the wine. Seemed to sparkle more afterwards."

So Balloch liked to try and impress dancers, did he? I don't suppose he was the first rich bastard to buy his way into the shadier side of the theatre business in order to date chorus girls. I wondered for a moment whether Tillyfor had ever been here. Then I concluded she would have mentioned it if she had been.

Strathallan looked at me thoughtfully for a long moment.

"Can you tell me what your interest in Mister Balloch is?" he asked eventually.

"I have a client," I replied carefully, "And I have to respect my client confidentiality. I'm sure you'll understand that."

I paused. Strathallan nodded sagely. I was sure he didn't want any of the details of my previous visit to the Club to become public knowledge.

"I need a favour," I said earnestly, "I need to get close to this Balloch character. Can you make like I'm a club member, just for tonight?"

Strathallan's eyes narrowed.

"This is most irregular," he said gravely, "I'm sure the Committee would not approve."

"But they don't need to know, do they? All you have to do is show me to a table, preferably one close to Balloch, and feed me a dinner. Your cheapest menu will do. Just leave the rest to me."

Strathallan looked uncertain to the point where I really thought for a moment he was going to refuse my request. Then he nodded, just once.

"Please don't embarrass me, Mister Gask," he said sombrely, "Rourke's has its standards, you know."

"Trust me, I'll be as good as gold," I promised, "Just get me near to him."

"Follow me," Strathallan instructed.

He set off down the corridor away from the kitchens, then taking a sharp right turn at the first junction. I followed close on his heel. The corridor had a utilitarian, functional look, the walls painted in an institutional shade of pale grey. At the end of the corridor was a plain and unremarkable door. Strathallan pushed it open a fraction and peered out.

"This opens onto our lobby," he said softly, closing the door again carefully, "Give me ten minutes to organise things, then go out there and make your way over to the reception desk. I'll be waiting for you."

I waited as patiently as I could, giving him a couple of extra minutes for good measure. When time was up, I tugged my hat down over my eyes for extra attitude and swung my way out of the door as if I owned the place.

Part 10

Part 12