“It is his way of telling you how important you are.” He tried to offer her some consolation, more aware than she, perhaps, of the growing strength of her feelings. “I think he is erring on the side of caution, and that you simply took a slight chill on the boat. A warm bath and an early night might have done instead; but it never hurts to do things in the proper way. It’s only six or seven weeks since your surgery.”

Lucy nodded with resignation. “It’s typical of me to make an awkward exit. You could say it’s a habit I’ve cultivated all my life.” She looked at him despondently.

Amel leaned forward and peeked over the rim of his glasses at her. “You needn’t be in such a hurry, though. Get used to the idea that you have time on your side now. In fact, on the positive side, your pulse and blood pressure are fine, and I think you’re far too well to be in here. I am very pleased with your progress, and we have a biopsy and echo due very shortly, and a mini MOT around Christmastime, so this is an excellent sign. This little episode has nothing to do with rejection, in my opinion. And no one knows that better than Alex. He has a sharp instinct for these things.”

The owner of the sharp instinct returned, and Amel thought it appropriate to remind them both that he had a dinner reservation and two delightful companions to rejoin. “I’m happy with the EKG, but an echo isn’t necessary, Alex. Perhaps just an antibiotic, and we can let her out in the morning. She’ll need some better food by then.” He smiled at them whimsically. “Interesting evening, don’t you agree?” He started to leave, and then to Alex he directed the words: “‘And having writ, moves on.’”

Alex didn’t need the caution, having elected not to speak further of the strange incident on the water, although the words he had heard resonated with him. It had taken him at once to the extraordinary safety device Will had loaded onto his notebook—the mysterious Sator Square. There seemed to be echoes and reverberations in everything happening around him now, and he wondered about Will’s e-mail—the mention of an unbroken river of thought—in the light of their own journey down the Thames tonight. Neither Amel nor Lucy, he recognized, had believed there was an entirely rational explanation for what they’d seen.