The ship’s purser could not have been more helpful. He was able to supply Sebastian with an address for Miss Samantha Sullivan: 2043 Cable Street, Georgetown, Washington, DC, although he couldn’t be sure if she was still living there, as she hadn’t traveled on the ship since the maiden voyage. Seb hoped 2043 would turn out to be a small apartment where she lived alone or with one of her female colleagues.

He thanked the purser, walked up a couple of flights of stairs to the Grill Room, and joined his father for dinner. It wasn’t until the steward had cleared away the main course that Seb raised the subject of Virginia’s writ.

“Quite dramatic stuff, or at least we all thought so at the time,” said Harry, lighting a Havana cigar, which he couldn’t have purchased on an American ship. “Your mother was addressing the company’s AGM, and during questions from the floor Virginia asked if one of the directors of Barrington’s had sold all his shares with the intention of bringing down the company.”

“So how did Mother deal with the question?”

“She turned it to her advantage by asking if Virginia was referring to the three occasions on which Alex Fisher, her representative on the board, had sold and then bought back her own shares, while at the same time making a handsome profit.”

“But as that’s no more than the truth,” said Seb, “it’s hardly libel.”

“I agree, but your mother couldn’t resist prodding the snake with a very sharp stick by adding—” Harry put his cigar down, leaned back, and closed his eyes—“‘If it was your intention to bring the company down, Lady Virginia, you have failed, and failed lamentably, because you were defeated by decent ordinary people who want this company to succeed…’ no, no,” said Harry, correcting himself, “her exact words were, ‘to be a success.’ The audience cheered, and Virginia stormed out of the room shouting, ‘You’ll be hearing from my solicitor,’ and indeed we did. But that was some time ago, so let’s hope she’s been advised to drop the case and has slithered away into the undergrowth.”

“If she has, she’ll only be curled up waiting to strike again.”

*   *   *

On the last morning of the voyage, Seb joined his father for breakfast, but Harry hardly said a word. He was always the same just before handing in a manuscript to his publishers. The longest three days of his life, he once told Seb, were while he waited to hear Harold Guinzburg’s opinion of his latest work.

“But how can you be sure he’s being completely honest about how he feels when the last thing he would want is to lose you?”