They went into the jail and found Hilary Kramer and Jim Forrester waiting at the desk, both looking tense.

“Have you heard anything from the prime minister?” Hilary asked Hewitt.

“Not yet,” he replied. “But I expect to soon.”

“Are you going to see Allison now?”

“Yes,” Stone replied.

“Will you come out and let us know how she’s doing? And ask her if she’ll see me.”

“Maybe a bit later. You, too, Jim?”

Forrester shook his head. “No, I don’t want to see her.” He turned to Kramer. “I guess I’m not much of a reporter.”

Stone and Hewitt were searched, then were walked down the corridor of cells. Stone looked at the stout door at the end, with the small window a good fifteen feet above it. At least the sounds from the inner courtyard had stopped; thank God for that.

Allison was sitting on her bunk, her hair pinned up, wearing a denim prison shift that exposed her neck. Stone kissed her on the cheek. “How are you?”

“They took away my things,” she said. “Even my underwear.” She seemed very calm.

“You’ll get them back later,” Hewitt said. “Don’t worry.”

“Haven’t you heard anything from the prime minister?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Sometimes it’s like this,” he said, glancing guiltily at Stone. “We might not hear anything until the last minute.”

They all sat down—Hewitt in the single chair and Stone and Allison on the bunk. She held up a copy of David Copperfield. “The most exciting thing they had to offer,” she said. “It’s good, though. I haven’t read it since the eighth grade; I’d forgotten how good it is.”

“I’ve had many calls from the press,” Stone said. “The prime minister’s office is under a lot of pressure.”

Allison nodded, but said nothing. Nobody said anything. They sat quietly, each with his own thoughts, for more than an hour.

A jailer appeared at the cell door. “Can I get anything for anybody?” he asked.

“I’d like some water,” Allison said.

“I’m sorry; you won’t be able to eat or drink from now on. I thought you might like some magazines.”

“No, thank you,” Allison said, and the man left. “Why won’t they let me eat or drink?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Hewitt said, before Stone could speak. “They have their silly rules, I suppose.”

Another long period of silence ensued, until Stone began to attempt small talk.

“What are you going to do when you get home?” he asked Allison.

“Get the estate wound up, I suppose. I don’t really have any plans beyond that. I find it difficult to think about the future right now.”

“The fast motor yacht came back and is waiting for you at the marina.”

“Good. I certainly don’t want to waste any time here when this is over.”