Wish you were here, the music said, assuring one of the exis­tence of that world, the gayer, richer world of the Café Royal, the Café de Paris, the Savoy, and now I was dining at the Savoy. Carroll Gibbons wasn’t here; but even if he had been, I wasn’t free to join the dancers. I went on arguing with Tiffield; there seemed to be no point in beating about the bush now. But my head had begun to ache and I had a frighteningly sharp pain just be­neath my breastbone; I didn’t, just then, care whether or not he gave me the order for KL 51 and he seemed to know it. He had defeated me; I couldn’t think of any way to get through to him. I didn’t feel any hatred for him; he was too old, he was enjoying his free dinner too much.

Sipping his brandy, he said in a surprisingly disconsolate voice, “I suppose you’ll want to go now.”

“There’s no hurry,” I said.

“I’ll send a car round here tomorrow.”

“There’s not much point in doing that, sir.” I accented the sir; I was tired of the pretence of our being companions.

“Why isn’t there any point in it? Have you forgotten your ap­pointment?”

“Send him my apologies.”

He shook his head slowly.

“Now, we have a mystery. Your father-in-law sends you all the way from Yorkshire to do a job for him. You’re halfway through the job and doing it to everyone’s satisfaction – and then you throw the job up. Why?”

“Because I might as well get the row over with,” I said. “You’re not going to give me the order, and my seeing your production manager won’t alter that.”

I beckoned the waiter. “The bill, please.”

“You’re jumping to conclusions,” Tiffield said. “You’ve not been in business very long, have you, Joe?” It was the first time he’d used my Christian name.

“Ten years,” I said.

“I’ve been in business fifty years. Man and boy, as they say. I started at the same time as your father-in-law. I was in business in the same part of the world.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Not many people do. I wasn’t very successful at first. In fact, I came a cropper. I knew it all. Yes, a real purler. I was young and I thought I knew it all. We were after the same young woman. I expect you know who she was.”

I kept my face expressionless. I didn’t want to discourage his confidences; but if he told me too much he might be sorry the next day.

“It’s the old story,” I said.

“Yes, the old story.” He folded his napkin and rose abruptly. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.