‘Not now, I am glad to say. His family have come back from abroad, what is left of his family that is. They have been living with him now for some months. I am glad to be able to come and see them again all together. Those, that’s to say, that I have seen before, and those that I have not seen.’

‘You mean children?’

‘Children and grandchildren.’ Mr Satterthwaite sighed. Just for a moment he was sad that he had had no children and no grandchildren and no great-grandchildren himself. He did not usually regret it at all.

‘They have some special Turkish coffee here,’ said Mr Quin. ‘Really good of its kind. Everything else is, as you have guessed, rather unpalatable. But one can always have a cup of Turkish coffee, can one not? Let us have one because I suppose you will soon have to get on with your pilgrimage, or whatever it is.’

In the doorway came a small black dog. He came and sat down by the table and looked up at Mr Quin.

‘Your dog?’ said Mr Satterthwaite.

‘Yes. Let me introduce you to Hermes.’ He stroked the black dog’s head. ‘Coffee,’ he said. ‘Tell Ali.’

The black dog walked from the table through a door at the back of the shop. They heard him give a short, incisive bark. Presently he reappeared and with him came a young man with a very dark complexion, wearing an emerald green pullover.

‘Coffee, Ali,’ said Mr Quin. ‘Two coffees.’

‘Turkish coffee. That’s right, isn’t it, sir?’ He smiled and disappeared.

The dog sat down again.

‘Tell me,’ said Mr Satterthwaite, ‘tell me where you’ve been and what you have been doing and why I have not seen you for so long.’

‘I have just told you that time really means nothing. It is clear in my mind and I think it is clear in yours the occasion when we last met.’

‘A very tragic occasion,’ said Mr Satterthwaite. ‘I do not really like to think of it.’

‘Because of death? But death is not always a tragedy. I have told you that before.’

‘No,’ said Mr Satterthwaite, ‘perhaps that death–the one we are both thinking of–was not a tragedy. But all the same…’

‘But all the same it is life that really matters. You are quite right, of course,’ said Mr Quin. ‘Quite right. It is life that matters. We do not want someone young, someone who is happy, or could be happy, to die. Neither of us want that, do we. That is the reason why we must always save a life when the command comes.’

‘Have you got a command for me?’