“Not what you’d call a private confrontation, then,” Jennifer said wryly. “Have another,” she said, pushing the cigarette packet towards Lindsay.

“I’ll pass, thanks all the same. Not only was it not private, it hit the headlines. By breakfast next morning, everyone in the place knew we’d had a run-in.” Lindsay summarized the couple of paragraphs that had appeared about their fight in Conference Chronicle’s “Gossip and Innuendo” section.

Jennifer looked alert, like a cat hearing the tin opener at the opposite end of the house. “Who produces this Conference Chronicle, then?” she asked.

Lindsay shrugged. “I wish I knew. And so does everyone else. Half of the delegates and officials want to lynch whoever it is, and the rest want to buy them a large drink. I’ve never known any fringe publication generate this kind of interest. You always get the odd scurrilous flyer round conference, but nothing this organized. It’s incredibly well-informed. It takes on the left as well as the right, it has a go at full-time officials, lay activists, the lunatic fringe, the boringly predictable establishment. I know it’s a dreadful old cliché, but truly, nothing seems to be sacred to Conference Chronicle. It’s reasonably witty, it’s competently put together, and it’s delivered as if by a band of paper-boy fairies that no one’s seen or heard. Certainly, the distribution’s a hell of a lot more efficient than the members of the old distribution union ever managed!”

“But no one knows who’s behind it?” Jennifer persisted.

“Nope. It could be anyone. Photocopiers are ten a penny these days, and you wouldn’t need a great deal of skill to produce the master copy. All you’d need is a couple of hours with a lap-top and a decent DTP package. Fingers have been pointing all over the place, and there are obviously one or two complete loops who’d like us all to think it’s them, but nobody’s got any serious idea who’s behind it. I’ll tell you one thing, though. It’s the only topic of conversation in the bars and the smoke-filled rooms.”

“You’re telling me that this . . . newsletter is the issue that everyone at conference is getting worked up about?” Jennifer asked. There was a note of incredulity in her voice that Lindsay found reassuring. It meant she wasn’t the only one who was aware that in the big bad world out there, whatever appeared in Conference Chronicle was even less interesting or significant than the marital relations of the royal family.