More Deadly Than The Male

George fell into step beside her. "I don't like him," he growled. "He'd better keep his hands off you."

Cora didn't say anything.

They walked on in silence until they reached a bus stop. While they waited, George watched her out of the corners of his eyes. Her grey-white face was hard and expressionless, but she held her head high, and she moved with a jaunty swagger.

The bus took them along Piccadilly, and they got off at Old Bond Street. The passengers on the bus gaped at them in undisguised astonishment. George, embarrassed, kept his eyes fixed on his dusty, cut shoes. Cora looked round with arrogant indifference, staring with jeering contempt at anyone who looked at her.

They walked up Old Bond Street towards Burlington Street: an odd couple in one of the richest streets in the world. Four prostitutes waited at the corner of Old Bond Street and Burlington Street. Their harsh voices chattered excitedly in broken English. Their French accents reminded George somehow of the Parrot House at the Zoo.

Cora paused, gave them a quick glance, and said, "Eva about?"

The four women stopped talking and stared at her. One of them, tall, hideous, fox furs hanging from her gaunt frame, seemed to recognize her.

"What a mess you're in, darling," she said, with a harsh laugh. "What have you been doing with yourself?"

"Seen Eva?" Cora repeated, her hard little face tightening.

"She went hack with a client about ten minutes ago."

Cora nodded and walked on.

George hadn't stopped. He crossed the road and waited on the opposite corner.

"Come on," Cora said impatiently. "I hope Ernie's at home." They paused outside a tall building in Clifford Street.

"This is it," Cora said, pushing upon the front door. They began to walk upstairs. On every landing was a front door with a card set in a brass frame. George read the lettering on the cards as they passed. "Frances", "Suzette", "Marie", "Jose".

As they turned to mount the last flight of stairs, they heard a door open, and a moment later, an elderly, well-dressed man came down the stairs, whistling softly. When he saw them, alarm jumped into his eyes and he stopped whistling. He paused, uncertain, and gripped his stick.

"Well, make up your mind," Cora said contemptuously. "Either come down or go back. We want to come up."

He came scuttling down, his mouth working with fear. He shot past them like a startled rabbit.

"I bet we put the fear of God into him," Cora said, and laughed.

George sympathized with the man, he knew how startled he would have been to see two such filthy, wild-looking people if he were coming from such a place.

They reached the top landing. The card on the door read "Eva". Cora banged on the door with the little brass knocker.

There was a pause, then the door opened and a young woman in a smart grey tailored coat and skirt gaped at them. She had a mass of red hair, and her face was a mask of make-up.

"Ernie in?" Cora asked shortly.

"Well, my dear!" the young woman exclaimed. "Whatever have you been up to? What a surprise! Who's your boyfriend?"

They stepped into a well-furnished hall. The floorboards gleamed, the big brass tray on ebony trestles glittered, and the thick rug on which they stood tickled their ankles.

"This is George," Cora said, waving her hand carelessly in George's direction. "I want Ernie."

The young woman smiled at George. She had big, strong white teeth. "I'm Eva," she said. "I've heard so much about you. And what a mess you're in! But don't stand there, come in, come in."

She took them down a passage and threw open a door. "Look, my precious, what's blown in," she called.

Little Ernie glanced tip. He was lying in a big armchair, his small feet up on a padded stool. He looked completely out of place in the lavishly furnished room.

George had never seen such a room. It was too big, the ceiling was too high, and the white carpet that went from wall to wall looked like a fresh fall of snow. The ivory furniture had chromium on it, and the enormous scarlet drapes hung from the tops of the high windows and tumbled on to the white carpet. Four big white suede armchairs stood about the room. A vast cocktail cabinet, filled with dozens of bottles of every conceivable drink, stood by the window.

If he had been told that he had strayed into Buckingham Palace, he would have believed it. The room was exactly his idea of a Queen's boudoir.

Little Ernie scrambled to his feet. His eyes gleamed with sudden excitement and eagerness.

"For cryin' out loud!" he exclaimed. "Cora, my ducks, and me old pal, George. Well, well, fancy you coming 'ere." He turned to Eva. " 'Ere, get 'er cleaned up, and then we'll have a nice little chat. Come on, palsy," he went on to George, "you come along with me. You two've been in trouble, I can see that."

He took George out of the room and down the passage. He pushed open another door and led George into a small bedroom. It was elegant and well furnished.