Case of the Wayward Brother

Tim Ryan was walking slowly past Cellini’s nightclub in Soho when the tinkle of glass and the crash of opening doors made him pause. In the darkish deserted street Ryan’s cigarette stub glowed. He took it from his mouth and shielded it with his cupped hand. Then he stepped back into a convenient doorway.

From a low basement door of the nightclub a man dashed into the street like a wild animal. As h...