A Dangerous Fortune by Ken Follett

probably ought to see the evening out, not quit halfway, he thought in the end.
    Nellie’s was in Princes Street, off Leicester Square. There were two uniformed commissionaires at the door. As the three young men arrived, the commissionaires were turning away a middle-aged man in a bowler hat. “Evening dress only,” said one of the commissionaires over the man’s protests.
    They seemed to know Edward and Micky, for one touched his hat and the other opened the door. They went down a long passage to another door. They were inspected through a peephole, and then the door opened.
    It was a bit like walking into a drawing room in a big London house. Fires blazed in two large grates, there were sofas, chairs and small tables everywhere, and the room was full of men and women in evening dress.
    However, it only took another moment to see that this was no ordinary drawing room. Most of the men had their hats on. About half of them were smoking—something that was not permitted in polite drawing rooms—and some had their coats off and their ties undone. Most of the women were fully dressed but a few seemed to be in their underwear. Some of them were sitting on men’s laps, others were kissing men, and one or two were permitting themselves to be fondled intimately.
    For the first time in his life Hugh was in a brothel.
    It was noisy, with men shouting jokes, women laughing, and a fiddler somewhere playing a waltz. Hugh followed Micky and Edward as they walked the length of the room. The walls were hung with pictures of naked women and copulating couples, and Hugh began to feel aroused. At the far end, under a huge oil painting of a complex outdoor orgy, sat the fattest person Hugh had ever seen: a vast-bosomed, heavily painted woman in a silk gown like a purple tent. She was sitting on a big regalchair and surrounded by girls. Behind her was a broad, red-carpeted staircase that presumably led up to bedrooms.
    Edward and Micky approached the throne and bowed, and Hugh followed suit.
    Edward said: “Nell, my pet, allow me to present my cousin, Mr. Hugh Pilaster.”
    “Welcome, boys,” said Nell. “Come and entertain these beautiful girls.”
    “In a while, Nell. Is there a game tonight?”
    “There’s always a game at Nellie’s,” she said, and waved toward a door at one side of the room.
    Edward bowed again and said: “We’ll be back.”
    “Don’t fail me, boys!”
    They moved off. “She acts like royalty!” Hugh murmured.
    Edward laughed. “This is the top stew in London. Some of the people who bow to her tonight will be bowing to the Queen in the morning.”
    They went into the next room, where twelve or fifteen men were sitting around two baccarat tables. Each table had a white line chalked about a foot from its edge, and the players pushed colored counters across the line to place bets. Most of them had drinks beside them, and the air was full of cigar smoke.
    There were a few empty chairs at one of the tables, and Edward and Micky immediately sat down. A waiter brought them some counters, and they each signed a receipt. Hugh said quietly to Edward: “What are the stakes?”
    “A pound minimum.”
    It occurred to Hugh that if he played and won he could afford one of the women in the next room. He did not actually have as much as a pound in his pockets, but obviously Edward’s credit was good here…. Then he remembered Tonio’s losing ten guineas at the ratting. “I shan’t play,” he said.
    Micky said languidly: “We never imagined you would.”
    Hugh felt awkward. He wondered whether to ask a waiter to bring him a drink, then he reflected that it would probably cost him a week’s wages. The banker dealt cards from a shoe and Micky and Edward placed bets. Hugh decided to slip away.
    He returned to the main drawing room. Looking more closely at the furniture, he could see that it was quite tawdry: there were stains on the velvet upholstery and burn marks on the polished wood, and the carpets were worn