My cheeks were still flushed. I would have to claim it was sunburn. Jen had warned me about wearing a hat, hadn’t she?

A delicate chime of bells sounded and I started nervously before I realized that it was the summons I had been waiting for. It was five minutes before five, time for the opening reception and cocktail hour. Some of the guests had come on board the day before, but others, like myself, had joined the cruise later; for the first time they would all be together, inspecting me as I would be inspecting them. I don’t often suffer from stage fright, but my fingers froze on the doorknob and I had to force myself to turn it.

I plunged out into the corridor and found myself in the arms of a strange man who had emerged from the room next to mine. My timing was perfect, but the strange man was not; he was a good six inches shorter than I, and I had an excellent view of his balding cranium, across which a few strands of hair had been arranged with pathetic optimism. Clutching me to his stomach, he staggered back into the grasp of another man who was as tall and thin as he was short and pudgy. After a brief interval, which seemed to last a lot longer than it actually did, we got ourselves sorted out and began a chorus of apologies.

‘My fault,’ I said. ‘I should have looked before I leaped.’

‘I do beg your pardon,’ said my first encounter simultaneously. He began to laugh merrily. ‘Allow me to introduce ourselves. I am Sweet and this is Bright.’

The tall, thin man bowed. He had a nice thick head of hair. It slipped a little when he inclined his head.

‘Bliss,’ I said. ‘Victoria Bliss.’

Sweet chuckled. ‘It was meant to be!’

‘What?’ I said.

‘Bright, Sweet, and Bliss!’

‘Oh,’ I said. Sweet beamed. Bright beamed.

The corridor was too narrow to allow us to walk arm in arm, so we proceeded single file, with Bright leading the way and Sweet following me. They managed it very neatly. In fact, the whole business had been carried out with consummate skill; if I hadn’t been on the alert I would never have spotted them.

Burckhardt had refused to tell me how I could identify his agents. ‘It is a matter of security, you understand,’ he had said solemnly.

‘It is a matter of my neck,’ I had pointed out.

‘Fear not,’ said Burckhardt. ‘They will make themselves known to you.’

Well, they had, and very deftly at that. I would not have expected subordinates of Herr Burckhardt’s to have such crazy senses of humour. The cleverest part of the performance had been when Sweet pressed me close, and the hard object in his breast pocket had jabbed painfully into my ribs. A bruise was a small price to pay for that kind of reassurance.

The central lobby, into which the corridor led, was magnificent. I hadn’t been in a fit state to take in the details earlier; now I admired the lush greenery in the centre, the miniature waterfall that tumbled through it, the soft chairs and sofas and little marble-topped tables scattered around. Bright and Sweet swooped in on me, one on either side, and led me towards the stairs.