‘Very strict in their attitudes,’ Fox said. ‘Puritanical, you might say. The lady I talked to in their London office is one of the modern sort. Groovy. She said that the Baron’s a very different type from his father who was what they call a “sport”. In both senses. A bit of a lad. Edwardian playboy type and notorious in his day. She said there are some very funny stories they tell in the firm about the Baron coming face to face with himself and cutting himself dead. She said they live very quietly. In Geneva mostly. The Baroness writes some kind of religious tales for kids but she never accompanies him to The Hague and is thought to be delicate.’

Fox enlarged cosily upon his theme. Believed to be distantly related to her husband, the Baroness, it was understood, belonged to an expatriate branch of the family. The nature of the Baron’s work for the firm obliged them to live abroad. A highly respected and unblemished record.

Lady Braceley: ‘Nothing in our way, really,’ said Fox, ‘unless you count a 1937 Ascot weekend scandal. She was an unwilling witness. Recently, just the usual stuff about elderly ladies in the jet set. Do you want the list of husbands?’

‘She’d love to tell me herself but—all right. In case.’

He took them down.

‘The nephew’s different,’ said Fox. ‘He’s a naughty boy. Sacked from his school for pot-parties and sex. Three convictions for speeding. Got off on a charge of manslaughter but only just. Accident resulting from high jinks at what was called a “gay pad”.’

‘Press on, Br’er Fox.’

‘This Sweet, Hamilton. Major. There’s no Major Hamilton Sweet in the Royal Artillery or any other Army lists for the given period. So we looked up recent cases of False Pretences and Fraud, Army Officers, masquerading as. Less popular than it used to be.’

‘See British possessions, armed forces, for the use of. Dwindling.’

‘That’s right. Well, anyway we looked. And came up with James Stanley Hamilton who answers to your description. Three fraudulent company affairs and two Revenue charges involving drugs. Known to have left the country. Wanted.’

‘That, as they say in the late-night imported serials, figures. Thank you, Br’er Fox.’

‘You mentioned Mr Barnaby Grant and Miss Sophy Jason. Nothing apart from what you know. You seem to be in a funny sort of milieu, Mr Alleyn,’ said Fox who spoke French, ‘n’est-ce pas?’

‘It gets funnier every second. Mille remerciements, Frère Renard, and why the hell aren’t you speaking Italian? Goodnight to you.’