Peter got up off the bed, walked across to Ed, and laid a confiding arm around his shoulder. Peter must have been tired and out of condition, because there was a red pustular spot on the side of his nose. Ed didn’t know whether to look at him or turn away.

‘The point is,’ said Peter, ‘that within a week or two, you’re going to have to stand up in front of some very inquisitive Congressmen, and answer some very difficult questions. One of those questions is going to be – what led you to believe the Senator Shearson Jones was diverting money from the Blight Crisis Appeal Fund into his own pocket? And can you produce any substantiating evidence? And what are you going to say to that?’

Ed didn’t answer. He wanted to hear what Peter had in mind first. If there was one lesson he had learned since he had arrived at Lake Vista, it was that you kept your mouth closed until you knew what the hell was going on.

‘Well,’ said Peter, as if he hadn’t really expected any kind of reply anyway, ‘what you’re going to say is, nothing.’

‘Nothing?’

‘That’s right. You’re going to say that you made a mistake. That you overheard a telephone conversation, and misunderstood the implications of it. You thought that Senator Jones was arranging to divert some of the money from the Blight Crisis Appeal, when in fact he was making special arrangements to get it out to Kansas wheat farmers even more quickly than he originally planned.’

‘I see,’ said Ed, cautiously. ‘And why should I say something like that?’

Ed pulled an expression of surprise that was almost comical. ‘Why? Because it’s true. Or at least, it will be by the time you appear in front of a Congressional committee.’

‘What’s going to make it true? The philosopher’s stone?’

‘The what?’

‘The philosopher’s stone. A mythical catalyst that was supposed to be able to turn lead into gold. I’m amazed at your ignorance.’

‘I’m amazed at your pettishness.’

Ed, with great care, lifted Peter’s arm away from his shoulders. ‘I don’t care to be hugged by political hoodlums,’ he said.

Peter stood back, his hands on his hips, and then laughed. ‘I admire your nerve,’ he said. ‘You may be an amateur, by God, but I admire your nerve. Unfortunately, nerve isn’t going to be enough. Your wife and daughter are staying with the Snowman family on Topanga Canyon, aren’t they?’

Ed’s muscles tensed up like an overwound clock. ‘Yes,’ he said tightly. ‘What of it?’

‘Nothing,’ smiled Peter, circling the room with his hands still propped on his hips. He looked very pleased with himself. ‘Nothing that needs to worry you at all if you say what we want you to say at the Congressional inquiry.’