“It may come as a surprise to you, Jessie, but there were people roaming the earth before 1965.”

“Yes, I knew that. I’ve read about them in my history books.”

“You wouldn’t like to run a bank, by any chance?”

“No thanks, Pops, I just haven’t got the time, what with preparing for my next exhibition and trying to organize you two.”

“I can’t imagine how we survived before you came along.”

“Not very well, by all accounts. By the way, have you ever come across a man called Maurice Swann, from Shifnal in Shropshire?”

“Yes, but surely he can’t still be alive.”

“And kicking, it would seem, because he’s invited Mom to open his school theatre. What’s that all about?”

“It’s a long story,” said Seb.

*   *   *

Desmond Mellor was a few minutes late and, once Virginia had poured him a whisky, he got straight to the point.

“I’ve kept my word, and the time has come for you to keep yours.” Virginia didn’t comment. “I’ve made a lot of money over the years, Virginia, and I’ve recently had a serious offer for Mellor Travel, that might even make it possible for me to gain a controlling interest in Farthings Bank.”

Virginia refilled his glass with Glen Fenwick. “So, what can I do for you?”

“The long and short of it is, I want that knighthood you promised you could fix when you needed my help to convince those American detectives that you were legit.”

Virginia was well aware that the very idea of Desmond Mellor being offered a knighthood was preposterous, but she had already seen a way of turning this to her advantage. “Frankly, Desmond, I’m surprised you haven’t been nominated for an honor already.”

“Is that how it works?” said Mellor. “Someone has to nominate me?”

“Yes, the honors committee, a select group of the great and the good, receive recommendations and, if they feel it appropriate, give the nod.”

“Do you know anyone on that committee by any chance?”

“No one is meant to know who sits on the honors committee. It’s a closely guarded secret. Otherwise they’d never stop being bothered with recommendations from completely unsuitable people.”

“So what hope have I got?” said Mellor.

“Better than most,” said Virginia, “because the chairman of the committee just happens to be an old family friend.”

“What’s his name?”

“If I tell you, you must swear to keep it secret, because if he thought even for a moment you knew, that would scupper your chances of ever being knighted.”

“You have my word, Virginia.”

“The duke of Hertford—Peregrine to his friends—has been chairman of the committee for the past ten years.”

“How in hell’s name will I ever get to meet a duke?”