“It seems to me that your secrets are inextricably bound up with mine.” He sighed. “And I can hardly talk about Harold Hebel without talking about the photograph, and the tape, and the British secret service, can I? The leisure moments of an ill-spent life have made me every bit as vulnerable as you are. But is this course of action wise, my friend? Given what I’ve been told you are. Sir John said he thought there might be some men who would come looking for you. More spies. Guests at the hotel who might turn out to be assassins. He told Robin he thought you and Hennig would probably make yourselves scarce as quickly as possible. I must say, this shrimp pool we call Cap Ferrat has never been so exciting.”

“Perhaps they will come. Perhaps they’ll shoot me. I don’t know. People have tried to kill me before and I didn’t cooperate. I’m still here. Or at least some of me is. But I’m tired of running. This particular Flying Dutchman needs to put into port and make substantial repairs. None of what your friends in MI6 said about me was true anyway—well, perhaps some of it was—so, maybe the Stasi will leave me alone. But down here on the Cap, I’ll leave you alone and perhaps you can do me the same courtesy. On the subject of each other we will be silent.”

Maugham nodded. “I understand. After this rather unwelcome period of tumult in your life you wish to subside, gently into cheerful peace. With a real future as opposed to an imaginary one. Am I correct?”

I nodded. “Something like that, I suppose. I can’t be more particular than that right now.”

“That’s not unusual. And I can certainly be silent regarding you, Herr Wolf. Yes, let us return to using your nom de plume. But I can’t guarantee that my nephew Robin can do the same. He is what is descriptively called a blabbermouth.”

“But I do think you can control him. Especially since his whole financial future is largely dependent on you.”

“Yes. That’s true.” The old man smiled his inscrutable smile. At least I think that’s what it was. There were too many creases and wrinkles on his face to be sure. He gave a great throaty chuckle.

“All right. It’s a deal.”

I got up and walked to the door of his elegant bedroom, helping myself to a cigarette from the box on the sideboard. It was made of amber and rather hateful.