But that night George Merrett did not arrive at the Red Lion Brewery.
As he passed Tenison Street, not very far from the brewery, someone shouted at him and started to chase him, still shouting.
Merrett was frightened. This was not an ordinary thief; thieves were silent.
Merrett began to run, his boots sliding on the cold street. He looked back and the man was still there, chasing him, shouting angrily.
Then, quite amazingly, the man stopped and fired a gun at him.