I nodded. Perhaps that was the way it was. And Hawke was using me as a stalking horse: it would be better for him if the disclosure came from someone who wasn’t Joe Hawke – someone already looking into Salton’s affairs and known to be politically neutral. If news of a moral flaw in the great David Salton was leaked by Hawke, then it would tend to be discounted because everyone knew Hawke had an axe to grind. But if it came from someone else entirely, someone who had never even met the Prime Minister-in-waiting, then it would pack a much stronger punch.

I decided then and there that Hawke was going to be unlucky, because I was going to keep my mouth shut. No one was going to use me as a patsy.

‘When did you get to know Salton?’ I asked.

‘Five years ago, in New York. He helped me to find a job.’

‘What sort of job?’

‘He introduced me to the head of a modelling agency.’

She would make a good model. ‘Five years ago?’ I raised my eyebrows. ‘That was before he was married.’

She returned to the settee and sat down with a fluid grace. ‘He met me and Jill Salton – Jill Pedlar, as she was then – in the same week.’ With a curious gesture of resignation she said, ‘He married her.’

She reached out to the table beside the settee and picked up a soft pack of cigarettes. She didn’t offer them, but took one out and lit it with a heavy gold lighter, which she then snapped shut with a jerk of her wrist.

‘I got this,’ she said, waving the lighter dismissively. ‘The inscription is particularly touching.’

She tossed it in my direction and I caught it one-handed. It was as heavy as it looked. I inspected the inscription; it read, ‘L – Always yours. D.’

I didn’t know what to say to that so I leaned forward and put the lighter down on the table again. The comment about the inscription had been sarcastic, but other than that, I couldn’t detect any bitterness towards her lover who had married someone else.

I said, ‘Are you a Campanillan?’ She nodded assent. ‘When did you come back here?’

‘Two years ago.’ The corners of her mouth turned down. ‘Maybe you think I shouldn’t have come running when he called.’

‘I’m not thinking anything,’ I said. ‘I’m just trying to see the situation as a whole.’

‘David was a hell of a man,’ she said. ‘So when he whistled I broke into a gallop, even though I knew it would do no good in the end. I loved that man. When I heard he was dead I broke down and cried for two days.’ She looked at me dry-eyed. ‘Did Mrs Salton cry for him?’

I looked down at the carpet. ‘I’ve seen her cry.’