‘Well, old boy, you did it. Welcome home.’

They were in the sitting room. Wilde had got up early and had been fed an English breakfast by Mrs Kemp; Sunny and Klara were still enjoying a lie-in.

‘Thank you.’

‘Cashbone will be along presently. Just had an errand in Cambridge. So, tell me all about it.’

Wilde indicated an armchair.

‘First you tell me a couple of things, Eaton. I want to know about Jim Vanderberg. What’s happened to our boys and girls in Berlin now America’s at war with Germany?’

‘All the American diplomats and journalists have been rounded up. I’m told they’re being shipped to a hotel in Bad Nauheim – a small town near Frankfurt – until such time as some sort of swap can be arranged for German officials presently in America. I’m afraid I don’t have any specific information about Vanderberg.’

‘I thought he had an exit visa.’

‘I’ve heard nothing about that. Ask Cashbone – perhaps he’ll know.’

‘Which brings me to my second question. How much do you know about Bodie Cashbone?’

‘I thought we went through this before you set off for Germany.’

‘Come on, Eaton, there must be more to it than what you told me. He turns up from the State Department to join Bill Whitney’s fledging COI outpost in London. Don’t tell me MI6 don’t know a hell of a lot more about him than that. I know you guys – you spy on your friends even more than your enemies.’

‘You have a very cynical view of the Secret Intelligence Service.’

‘With reason, Eaton. With very good reason. So?’

Eaton shrugged. ‘Well, he’s a sound man. Harvard educated, comes from Houston, Texas, if I remember correctly. Never served abroad before. Perhaps not right at the heart of things, but certainly acquired the education for the job.’

‘Not right at the heart of things? You mean he’s not quite Long Island. What are his politics?’

‘God knows – Democrat or Republican, I imagine. Everyone’s one or the other in America, I believe. Unless you are wondering whether he’s a Bolshevik or a Nazi, in which case I can reassure you that he most definitely is not.’

‘Married?’

‘No, I’m pretty sure he’s not, nor with any immediate plans.’ Eaton looked bemused at this line of questioning. ‘Does that help at all?’

Wilde felt as if there was something missing from this picture of the bear-like Bodie Cashbone. The only time he’d heard the name Cashbone before was in connection with the oil business. Wilde guessed it must be the same family, especially if he hailed from Texas. But that didn’t help much, nor put his mind at ease; he still knew very little about the man. Sunny Somerfeld had told him half her life story within a few hours of meeting. Cashbone had revealed nothing.