Collis was almost tempted to explain all about I. P. Woolmer’s Bank, and his father’s disastrous speculations, but he decided against it. His father had trusted him to hold his tongue, and that was the least he could do for the silly old duffer. ‘It’s too early yet. Perhaps I’ll be able to tell you when I hear from my friends in high places.’

‘I didn’t know you had friends in high places. Apart from that dark-haired lady on the top floor of that house in Mercer Street.’

‘No, no. This is a Senator.’

Henry ran his hand through his fair brown hair and shook his head. ‘Don’t talk to me about Senators. Senators are the serpents of the earth. This railroad of mine was headed up by a Senator, and if you ask me he was the trickiest fellow in the whole sorry operation.’

‘Have I heard of him?’ said Collis.

‘I shouldn’t think so. A Southern gentleman. Do you want another drink?’

‘A Southern gentleman? Not William Stride?’

Henry’s expression tightened. ‘Yes, that’s right. How did you know?’

Collis suddenly felt flushed. The bar around him was bright, but unfocused, a fuzzy vision of talking and laughing faces and sparkling lights. ‘What was the name of his railroad company?’

‘You look extremely pink, Collis,’ Henry said. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Henry — what was the name of his company?’

‘The Sacramento Valley Railroad. But why?’

Collis covered his eyes with his hand. ‘My God,’ he said. ‘He must have thought I was a raving lunatic.’

‘Who?’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Collis told him. ‘Well, rather, it does.’

‘Collis, I don’t know what the blue blazes you’re talking about.’

‘It’s Stride. It’s all absolutely ridiculous. If you can imagine the worst possible thing that could happen, it’s happened.’

Henry crossed his legs and stared at Collis with an urbanely creased forehead. ‘My dear Collis, the worst possible thing that could happen would be to die of heart failure just before eating one of Delmonico’s stuffed woodcock. Or maybe to fall and fracture one’s leg while following Kitty Brough upstairs.’

‘Henry,’ said Collis, ‘what I have to tell you is highly confidential. But I really feel I must confide in someone. The whole damned situation is driving me mad.’

‘You know me,’ said Henry. ‘I’m the essence of secrecy itself.’

‘Well, sometimes you are,’ Collis replied. ‘But this time, I must insist. It’s too important to get out. It could ruin hundreds of people, yourself included.’

‘In that case,’ said Henry, lifting his beer glass, ‘I give you my word as a disgraced officer and a disgraceful gentleman.’