‘Then surely it would be wise to come to some kind of peaceful settlement, sir.’

‘And what do you suppose the Kenyan nationalists would think if they heard we wanted to parley? They’d know at once that it was a sign of weakness, proof that we’d lost faith in our ability to hold on. We have to keep grinding their noses into the dirt. We can’t let up for a second. Believe me, Stannard, it’s them or us.’

Quentin De Lancey had greatly impressed the gentlemen of the Wanjohi Country Club by stepping in and giving a misbehaving servant the thrashing he deserved. He was leaning against the bar, accepting free drinks while he gave his admirers the benefits of his wisdom.

‘I’ve been out here thirty years, give or take, and my views remain what they have always been. The black man is nothing but vermin. Oh, I know there are some who like to dress up in fancy suits and play at being civilised, but mark my words, they’re savages under the skin.’

‘And they breed like rabbits, particularly the damn Kukes,’ said another Wanjo man, using the term by which the colonists referred to the Kikuyu. ‘We’re going to be swamped soon, if we’re not careful.’

‘Well, you know what they say,’ said De Lancey. ‘The only good Kuke is a dead Kuke. They’re no use as workers. Lazy buggers, never do what they’re told, always complaining.’

‘What do you make of this Mau Mau business? You’ve heard the stories, I’m sure. It’s time someone at Government House put a stop to it, I say.’

‘There’s only one way to put a stop to it,’ De Lancey replied. ‘Say what you like about old Adolf, but he had the right idea about dealing with people who are a threat to one’s race. We have to deal with the Kukes once and for all.’

‘The only good Kuke, and so forth.’

‘Correct. And we won’t be able to sleep easy in our beds until all the Kukes are good Kukes. Do I need to say more . . .?’

‘No, De Lancey, you don’t. I think we all take the point very clearly.’

There were about a dozen men clustered in a knot around the bar. Every one of them had understood what he was suggesting. And not one had disagreed.

The Schloss Meerbach had been built by an industrial emperor to match the country home of a king.

In the early 1850s, Maximilian II of Bavaria invited the steam engine magnate Gustav von Meerbach to stay at the royal residence of Hohenschwangau Castle. Gustav was impressed by this hilltop fortress that looked medieval yet was newly built, with all the creature comforts that the mid-nineteenth century had to offer. He purchased a swathe of land along the hills that rose from the shores of the Bodensee, the long, narrow lake that separated Bavaria from Switzerland. Having found the spot with the most picturesque views, he commissioned a residence of his own.