“A poodle wearing a red rosette would win the by-election if all Ted Heath can come up with is to call a state of emergency every time there’s a strike.”

“Then perhaps it’s time to tell you my other news.”

Griff raised an eyebrow.

“I’m going to ask Karin to marry me.”

“Could it possibly be after the by-election,” begged Griff.

Chapter 42

42

FOR EVERYONE involved in the libel trial, it turned out to be a long weekend.

Following a short consultation with Mr. Trelford immediately after the court had been adjourned for the day, Giles drove Emma down to Gloucestershire.

“Would you prefer to stay at the hall over the weekend? Marsden will take care of you.”

“It’s kind of you to offer,” said Emma, “but I ought to be at home just in case Harry calls.”

“I think that’s unlikely,” said Giles quietly.

“Why?” demanded Emma.

“I visited Sir Alan at Number Ten before the court resumed yesterday morning, and he told me Harry had booked himself onto a BOAC flight last Friday evening, but never boarded the plane.”

“Then they must have arrested him.”

“I fear so.”

“Why didn’t you tell me immediately?”

“Moments before you went into the witness box? I don’t think that would have been helpful.”

“Did Sir Alan have any other news?”

“He told me that if we haven’t heard from Harry by Monday morning, the foreign secretary will call in the Russian ambassador and demand an explanation.”

“What good will that do?”

“He’ll realize that Harry will be on the front page of every paper around the world the next day if they don’t release him, which is the last thing the Russians will want.”

“Then why arrest him in the first place?” demanded Emma.

“They’re up to something, but even Sir Alan can’t work out what it is.”

Giles didn’t tell Emma about his recent experience when he’d tried to enter East Berlin, not least because he’d assumed that Harry was unlikely to get beyond passport control and would have been frogmarched back on to the next plane to Heathrow. It made no sense that they would detain the president of English PEN without good reason. Even the Soviets don’t like bad publicity if they can possibly avoid it. Like Sir Alan, he couldn’t work out what they were up to.

*   *   *

During a sleepless weekend, Emma occupied herself answering letters, reading, even polishing some of the family silver, but she was never more than a few paces away from the phone.

Sebastian rang on Saturday morning and when she heard his voice she thought for a moment, just a moment, that it was Harry.

*   *   *