“They’ve brought some thugs from Special Branch with them. Just in case this is all some sneaky Russian plot to kidnap two of our top spooks. But as usual, Her Majesty’s Government is also being tight with money. Besides, Sinbad will much prefer staying at the Aurore. It’s rather more modest and low-key than those other hotels.”

“Who’s Sinbad?” asked Robin.

“Before he was director of MI6, Sir John Sinclair was a major general in Royal Artillery,” said Maugham. “But prior to that he went to Dartmouth Naval College and for two years he was a midshipman in the Royal Navy. Sinbad the sailor. And that’s how I know him. He served with the Murmansk force in northern Russia and for a while, in a small way, was one of my field agents.”

“I don’t even know where the Belle Aurore is,” Searle said peevishly.

“It’s on Avenue Denis Semeria,” I explained. “Just down from the Villa Ephrussi.”

“I say, listen to the hotel concierge,” said Robin.

“On the main road to Villefranche?” said Alan.

I nodded. “I drive past it almost every day.”

“Sounds a bit noisy to me,” said Alan.

“Guy Burgess went to Dartmouth Naval College, didn’t he?” I said. “At least that’s what he said on the tape.”

“Yes, he did,” said Robin.

“Sinbad is much older than Guy Burgess,” said Maugham. “About fifteen years older, probably. So there was no chance of an overlap there. Besides, Burgess isn’t Sinbad’s type at all.”

“You don’t mean he’s queer?” said Alan.

“No, I don’t. Sinbad is happily married.”

“Stands to reason someone must be,” I said.

“To Esme, I believe. For many years.”

“Anyone married to someone called Esme for many years must be queer,” said Robin.

“I find it hard to imagine that anyone who was a midshipman in the Royal Navy isn’t a bit queer,” objected Alan. “If they’d ever put it on the recruiting posters that the traditions of the Royal Navy were rum, sodomy, and the lash I’d have joined immediately. But instead I ended up in the army. In fucking Yorkshire. That’s enough to cure anyone of homosexuality, for life.”

“Is this all you people ever talk about?” I said. “Who’s queer and who isn’t?”

“It’s that or bloody Suez,” said Alan, “and right now I think I’d rather not talk about Suez.”

“No, indeed,” murmured Robin. “The gyppos are going to drop us all in the shit again.”

“Don’t think for a minute we haven’t discussed you in the same vein, Walter,” said Maugham. “Before the Nazis, Berlin was a poof’s paradise. I find it very hard to imagine that you are not without something more interesting in your extremely secret history than a couple of unfortunately dead wives.”