I took a towel off a nearby peg and dried myself. ‘Not clearly. He got away very fast.’

‘Ah. Pity.’ He picked up a piece of tarpaulin peeking out from beneath one of the benches and stood it up against the wall. ‘Terrible mess some people make,’ he said. ‘I’ll have to raise it at the next meeting.’ Then he looked up at me, as if he had suddenly remembered that his role in the Yacht Club was of secondary importance to a dead Russian. ‘The office called,’ he said. ‘London cabled to say that Henry’s flight lands at oh-eight-hundred tomorrow.’

On the drive over from Ikoyi, I’d held, somewhere at the back of my mind, the hope that Pritchard might not be able to make it out here for a few more days. Now it was settled: I had just over nine hours until he arrived and started asking questions - and all I had to go on was a word scribbled on a matchbox.

Manning was shuffling his feet, anxious to get back to his drink.

‘I’ll meet you at the airport at half-seven,’ I told him. ‘But tell me something - does the phrase “Afrospot” mean anything to you?’

He considered it for a moment, then shook his head. ‘Perhaps a local brand of pimple cream?’ He chuckled, pleased with himself.

‘Did you notice the woman I was talking to earlier on?’ He grimaced. ‘Yes, I saw her,’ he said. ‘But don’t you think you should leave the love life for later, old chap? Go back to your hotel, have a good night’s sleep, and we’ll sort all this out come morning.’

I counted out ten beats, timing them to a dripping tap somewhere behind me, letting Manning understand that I was not interested in talking sex, or rugby, or my father, and that this would be the last time I wasted valuable seconds on him. He coughed after the seventh beat, and I relieved him of the tension.

‘Did you notice if she left?’

‘I saw her setting out for the hard about ten minutes ago. Might still be there.’

‘The hard?’

‘Um - near the jetty - take a right and you’ll see the path leading down to it.’

‘Thank you,’ I said, and headed for the door.

‘What about my car?’ Manning called after me. ‘Sandy’s already giving another couple a lift, and I’m not sure Marjorie and I will squeeze in.’

‘I’ll let you know in a couple of minutes,’ I shouted back.

I checked the bar just in case, but she wasn’t there, so I hooked my jacket over my head and headed outside. The chairs had been stacked up in columns and a steward was doing the rounds of the tables with a tray, picking up bottles and glasses and bowls while the rain blew against him.

I found Isabelle in a lifejacket, tethering her boat to a pole.