She turned on her stool and looked up at him. ‘I’d love Delmonico’s,’ she told him, with an abstracted smile. ‘Did it really go so well?’

He peeled off his coat, loosened his necktie, and began to unbutton his shirt. ‘I hope you’re feeling broad-minded,’ he said. ‘But I’m sure you are. You’re a very bright, broad-minded wife.’

‘You flatter me.’

‘No, I don’t. I’m telling you the truth. And I should have told you the truth before. Now this is all over, I promise you one thing, and I promise it solemnly. I shall never keep anything from you again, the way I did with this plan. Because, my God, if Sarah Melford can see the sense in what I’m doing, after all I put her through, then I know full well that you can.’

Hannah blinked at him. ‘Sarah Melford?’ she asked.

He approached Laurence Melford a week later in the dining-room of the Hotel du Commerce. It was a noisy, high-ceilinged place, with polished carving trolleys being speedily wheeled from table to table, and waiters hurrying in and out of the service doors with lobster, and brant, and hare chops in salmi; and above it all there was the raucous sound of businessmen who had taken one cocktail too many, talking one octave too high.

Laurence Melford must have seen him coming, because his head sank a little, as if he didn’t wish to be recognised. But Collis came smartly up to his table, bowed, and said, ‘Perhaps you have a moment, sir?’

Laurence Melford was lunching with Andrew Crawford, the wealthy ships’ supplier. Crawford sat back in his seat, a little perplexed at Collis’s interruption, but Laurence Melford didn’t even raise his eyes.

‘I’m having a private lunch, Mr Edmonds,’ he said, in a low and testy voice. ‘If you wish to see me, you may make an appointment through my staff.’

‘I really think it better if I see you now,’ said Collis. ‘Begging Mr Crawford’s pardon for the inconvenience, that is. How are you, Mr Crawford?’

‘I was well, thank you, Mr Edmonds, until I saw you,’ said Crawford, wiping his mouth with his napkin and pushing away his plate of broiled venison.

Laurence Melford pulled a sour smile. ‘I think you’d better leave, Mr Edmonds,’ he suggested. ‘My servants are waiting outside, and they could always be summoned to have you expelled.’

The Maître d’ had seen out of the corner of his eye that Laurence Melford was disturbed by Collis’s presence, and he came across with his plum-coloured nose and his curled-up shirt front to find out what was wrong.

‘You want a table, sir?’ he asked Collis, trying to nudge him away from Laurence Melford’s side.

‘No, thank you,’ said Collis, without looking at him. ‘And if you push me once more, I shall punch you very hard in the belly.’