Grant gave him the names of twenty of the more likely places, going on the assumption that a young man from the wide open spaces and the small towns would look for a caravanserai that was both large and gay and not too expensive. And just for good measure he added a couple of the best–known expensive ones; young men with several months' back–pay were liable to be extravagant.

'I don't think I'd bother with any more than that,' he said.

'Are there any more?'

'If he didn't stay in one of these, then we're sunk, because if he didn't stay in any of them we'd have to hunt every hotel in London to find him, to say nothing of the boarding–houses.'

'Okay. I'll start first thing in the morning. Mr Grant, I'd like to tell you how much I appreciate what you're doing for me. Giving up your time to something that no one else could do; I mean, something the police wouldn't touch. If it wasn't for you?'

'Listen, Tad. I'm not being benevolent. I'm being self–indulgent and typically nosey and I'm enjoying myself to the top of my bent. If I wasn't, believe me I wouldn't be in London. I'd be going to sleep tonight in Clune. So good night and sleep well. We'll crack this thing between us.'