‘Sir! Wh—’ I began, struggling up and feeling pain grip me so hard it was as if I’d been taken by a shark.

‘No names,’ he said, a little jolliness in his voice. He raised his hand and put a finger to his lips, then gave me the kind of smile that you give a naughty child when they’ve accidentally done something helpful. ‘A busy couple of days, I gather. How are the war wounds? I don’t envy you the entry wound. Had one myself in ’52. Still hurts on cold mornings.’

‘My friends,’ I said. ‘They’d been hurt.’

‘Don’t worry yourself. The gentleman is being treated wonderfully well. I think he’s struggling to believe that it’s a specialist ward at Brampton Cottage Hospital, but he seems the sort who wouldn’t call out a lie in case it was bad manners.’

I couldn’t help grinning at the way he’d so perfectly skewered John Goose. ‘Did he need more surgery?’

‘A little,’ he conceded. ‘A couple of bleeds that he’d be better off not knowing about. Prognosis is good. Better than before, I’d say. Surgeon found a couple of other unpleasant little cysts while he was rooting about and snipped them off too. Rather marvellous, surgery, don’t you find? Just a shame it makes the doctors so damn holier-than-thou.’

I didn’t speak. Watched him shell the pistachios and wondered if he’d ever get round to telling me what he was here for.

‘Your friend. The lady. Quite a tough soul underneath the cardigan and the vests, I’d say. Climbed through the roof, you know. I mean, fancy! Must have caused quite a stir when she clattered down. And thank goodness that the old bug picked up enough movement to start transmitting. Poor fellow listening in at GCHQ almost had a fit. Had to wake up two Cabinet members to get the green light. All very exciting, I shouldn’t wonder.’

‘She’s OK?’

He made a face. ‘I don’t like these American expressions. She’s flourishing, my dear, flourishing. Sitting up in bed like a veritable maharani. I think she’s rather taken with the medicines she’s been given. Not one for strong spirits, I gather.’

I tried to keep a straight face, picturing the scene. Failed, and was grateful to see my visitor join in.

‘Bad business,’ he said, eventually. ‘A little embarrassing for all concerned. Our mutual friend was always a hard fellow to read, but it seems that the illness drove him quite round the bend.’

‘The illness?’

‘Multiple tumours, my dear. Quite potty. Faked a dozen internal communications documents and managed to get half a dozen gullible diplomats together at the home of a senior civil servant. Had this half-baked idea about blackmailing them into persuading their governments to sever ties with a foreign government until they ceased being beastly.’