Mma Ramotswe introduced Clovis Andersen. “Mr. Andersen is a visitor to Botswana,” she said. “He is spending some time in my office, seeing how we work.”

Mr. Ditso inclined his head politely in the direction of Clovis Andersen. “You are very welcome, sir.” Then he turned to Mma Ramotswe. “What is it, Mma? Who is wanting to investigate me? Is this to do with tax? Some people think I do not pay my taxes, but I do. Every pula.”

Mma Ramotswe shook her head. “It’s nothing to do with tax, Rra. I have come here to speak to you about a friend,” she said. “A certain Mma Potokwane.”

The effect of this was immediate. Mr. Ditso, who had been tense, appearing to want to be in command of the situation, now visibly relaxed. He had indicated to his visitors that they should sit down; now he stretched out in his own chair, his hands folded loosely on his lap. “Oh yes? That lady. You have come to ask me to give her her job back, I assume. You know her, Mma?”

Mma Ramotswe bit her lip. “I know her, Rra. She is my old friend.”

Mr. Ditso reached for a matchstick that was lying on the desk in front of him. Splitting the top with a fingernail, he began to use the stick as a toothpick; a gesture of calculated unconcern. Mma Ramotswe drew in her breath. She was as much embarrassed as angered by this display; what would Clovis Andersen think of people in Botswana if this was how they behaved?

She fixed Ditso with an intense stare. “I am talking to you, Rra,” she said. “And this man with me is a visitor.”

Mr. Ditso’s hand came away from his mouth. The toothpick was held up, as if it were a tiny baton. “So, Mma? If I have something in between my teeth, can I not remove it? In my own office. Or do I need your permission to do that?”

She looked down at her shoes. She knew that she should try to control herself; nothing was to be gained by falling out with the man who held Mma Potokwane’s fate in his hands. But I have already fallen out with him, she thought; I have already said too much.

She made a supreme effort. “I beg you to reconsider your decision, Rra. Mma Potokwane has done a wonderful job as matron. Maybe they haven’t told you about that. She is a very great lady.”

Mr. Ditso lowered the toothpick. “She has certainly done a very good job, Mma. Yes, that is quite true. But …” He paused, looking at Clovis Andersen as if for support. “But there comes a time when things must move on. The same person shouldn’t run a business forever. That is not good business practice, Mma, as I’m sure our friend here will tell you.”