“A witness who wasn’t dismissed for being drunk on duty, and who clearly bears a grudge against the company, and a director who would be willing to stand in the witness box and give evidence under oath.”

“But it’s no more than the truth.”

“It may well be, but tell me, Lady Virginia, have you read Harry Clifton’s latest novel?”

“Certainly not.”

“Then be thankful that I have, because in Inspector Warwick and the Time Bomb you will find almost word for word the story you’ve just told me. And you can be sure that at least one or two members of the jury will also have read it.”

“But surely that would only strengthen our case?”

“More likely we’d be laughed out of court.”

*   *   *

Emma looked slowly around the table. Every director was in place except Sebastian. But never in her eleven years as chairman of Barrington’s had she failed to begin a meeting on time.

Philip Webster, the company secretary, opened proceedings by reading the minutes of the previous meeting. Far too quickly in Emma’s opinion. “Are there any matters arising from the minutes?” she asked hopefully. There were none.

“So let us move on, to item number one, the election of a deputy chairman. Desmond Mellor has been proposed by Jim Knowles and seconded by Clive Anscott. Before I call for a vote, does anyone have any questions?”

Mellor shook his head and Knowles said nothing, both well aware that Sebastian Clifton might appear at any moment. Emma stared hopefully at the admiral, but he looked as if he’d fallen asleep.

“I think we’ve all had more than enough time to consider our position,” said Anscott.

“I agree,” said Knowles. “Let’s get on with the vote.”

“Before we do so,” said Emma, “perhaps Mr. Mellor would care to address the board on why he feels he’s the right man to be deputy chairman of Barrington’s.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” said Mellor, who had spent some considerable time preparing a speech, which he now had no intention of delivering. “I leave my record to speak for itself.”

As Emma had now run out of delaying tactics, she was left with no choice but to call on the company secretary to carry out the roll call.

Webster rose from his place and read out the names of each director, starting with the chairman, Mrs. Clifton.

“I shall abstain,” said Emma.

“Mr. Maynard?”

“For.”

“Mr. Dixon?”

“Against.”

“Mr. Anscott?”

“For.”

“Mr. Knowles?”

“For.”

“Mr. Dobbs?”

“Against.”

He too had kept his word. Emma kept looking toward the door.

“Mr. Carrick?”

“For.”

Emma looked surprised. The last time they’d spoken, Carrick had given her his assurance that he wouldn’t be supporting Mellor. Who had been the last person to sit on that particular cushion, she wondered.

“Admiral Summers?”

“Against.”

Not a man to desert his friends.

“Mr. Clifton?”