There were Albanians to whom the Capital was the zenith of amusement, wearing crimson and gold embroideries, bristling with pistols, their horses trapped out in gold and silver.

It was all a mixture of Slav, Turk and Levantine and Bavarian introduced by the King and naturally the classical Greek of bygone years.

It constituted, Lord Castleford knew, a challenge that he would have enjoyed and looked forward to, if he had not already decided that it was no longer any of his business and that he would be leaving Greece in a very short time.

The British Residency was impressive and very different from most of the other Ministries and Consulates which, owing to lack of accommodation, were situated in narrow dirty streets or even lodged in inns.

It was reassuring to see the Union Jack blowing in the breeze, the garden laid out with neat and tidy flowerbeds, the servants wearing quietly impressive livery and to feel the conventional black and white marble floor of the hall under his feet.

There were still formalities that had to be observed, secretaries, clerks and senior servants to be presented and, although Lord Castleford was impatient, he was too well trained to appear anything but courteous and grateful for the attention that was being paid to him.

It seemed to him, however, that a century of time had passed since he had last seen Yamina, as he hurried up the stairs to his private suite of rooms on the first floor overlooking the garden.

Jenkins was waiting for him on the landing and, as he saw Lord Castleford approach, he opened the door and he walked into the sitting room.

There was no sign of the painted trunk and he was gazing across the large room to the door which he knew must lead into the bedroom when Jenkins said in a low voice,

“Miss Yamina has gone, my Lord!”

“What do you mean – gone?” Lord Castleford asked sharply.

“I had the painted trunk carried upstairs first as soon as we arrived at the Residency,” Jenkins replied. “I impressed on the servants to be extremely careful with it, my Lord.”

“Yes, yes!” Lord Castleford said. “What happened?”

“I ordered the rest of the luggage to follow, my Lord, and then went ahead to let Miss Yamina out as you told me to do.”

“She was all right?” Lord Castleford enquired.

“Perfectly, my Lord! She thanked me for having taken so much care in bringing her from the ship.”

“Then what happened?”

“I went out of the bedroom, my Lord, and directed the disposal of your luggage in a wardrobe room which is part of your suite. It took me some time and, because I thought that Miss Yamina would wish to be alone, I started to unpack the clothes I thought your Lordship would require so that they would not become too creased by remaining in the trunks.”

“I understand,” Lord Castleford hissed impatiently.

He always found Jenkins’s long-winded narratives irritating.