‘In that case, he will have to make his appointment in the usual fashion. I can’t see people who decline to say why they’ve come. If they decline to say why they’ve come, then I can just as readily decline to be here to see them.’

Pudgett licked his lips. ‘He said I should mention blankets, sir. A particular cargo of blankets.’

Arthur’s hand remained poised over his last letter. The nib of his pen reflected a bright, wavering star. ‘What?’ he said softly.

‘I don’t know what he meant, sir. But he said I should mention blankets.’

Arthur looked down at the unsigned letter. He laid down his pen. Pudgett, from the doorway, watched him with uncertainty.

‘All right,’ said Arthur at last. ‘You’d better show him in.’

Pudgett disappeared, and Arthur waited, without moving, his letter still unsigned and his pen spreading a black blot over the words ‘Cordially yours’. The monastic shafts of light began to dim, one by one, as a screen of clouds passed across the sun.

‘Mr McReady, sir,’ announced Pudgett, and the door swung open as if someone had given it a sharp, bad-tempered push. Across the parquet, with metal-capped shoes that clicked as he walked, came a short, square man in a brown striped suit, a man whose eyes were as pale as opals, and by the look of him, twice as unlucky.

Arthur stood up and extended his hand. Dan McReady jerked his head forward and glared at the hand like a snappish dog. But he took it, and gave it a quick shake, and then he sat down in the studded leather guest chair with almost frightening abruptness.

‘You told my clerk about blankets,’ said Arthur.

‘Yup.’

Arthur turned and looked at him. ‘“Yup”?’ he repeated. His voice was the finest grade of sandpaper.

But Dan McReady was unabashed. ‘Yup I told your clerk about blankets.’

‘I see,’ said Arthur, leaning on his desk. ‘But are you going to tell me about blankets?’

‘Sure. For a price.’

‘What kind of a price?’

McReady stared at him with those pale, expressionless eyes. ‘A fair price, Mr Teach. None other.’

‘Of course,’ said Arthur. ‘As long as we both understand the meaning of “fair”.’

Dan McReady didn’t seem to be impressed by meanings, because he said nothing at all. Instead, he reached inside his coat and produced a well-folded piece of paper, which he tossed on to Arthur’s desk. Arthur walked around and picked it up.

‘That’s a bill of lading from the Aria, sir,’ said Dan McReady. ‘If you can read, you’ll see that it was issued for blankets, twenty-five short tons of five-pound blankets.’

‘Yes,’ said Arthur slowly, reading the bill with care. ‘Yes, that’s exactly what it is. But can I ask how it came into your possession? I thought I knew the owner of these blankets, and it certainly isn’t you.’