‘I hope so,’ he rejoined cheerfully. ‘I’m in Rome for a few days. I don’t want to spend them on a series of blanket-tours covering the maximum amount of Sights in the minimum amount of time. I have seen as much as I can take of celebrated big-boomers. What I would like now is to do something leisurely and civilized that leads one a little off the beaten way of viewing and yet is really—well, really of Rome and not, historically speaking, beside the point. I’m afraid I put that very badly.’

‘But not at all,’ said the young man looking hard at him. ‘I understand perfectly. A personal courier might be the answer but this is the busy season, sir, and I’m afraid we’ve nobody free for at least a fortnight whom I could really recommend.’

‘Somebody told me about something called Il Cicerone. Small parties under the guidance of a—I’m not sure if I’ve got his name right—Sebastian Something? Do you know?’

The young man looked still more fixedly at him and said: ‘It’s odd—really, it’s quite a coincidence, sir, that you should mention Il Cicerone. A week ago I could have told you very little about it. Except, perhaps, that it wasn’t likely to be a distinguished affair. Indeed—‘ he hesitated and then said—’please forgive me, sir. I’ve been at our London office for the past three years and I can’t help thinking that I’ve had the pleasure of looking after you before. Or at least of seeing you. I hope you don’t mind,’ the young man said in a rush. ‘I trust you will not think this insufferable cheek: I haven’t mastered my Anglo-Saxon attitudes, I’m afraid.’

‘You’ve mastered the language, at least.’

‘Oh—that! After an English university and so on, I should hope so.’

‘—and have an excellent memory.’

‘Well, sir, you are not the sort of person who is all that readily forgotten. Perhaps, then, I am correct in thinking—?’

‘You came into the general manager’s office in Jermyn Street while I was there. Some two years ago. You were in the room for about three minutes: during which time you give me a piece of very handy information.’

The young man executed an involved and extremely Italianate gesture that ended up with a smart slap on his own forehead.

‘Ah-ah-ah! Mamma mia! How could I be such an ass!’ he exclaimed.

‘It all comes back to you?’ observed the tall man drily.

‘But completely. All!’ He fell away a step and contemplated his visitor with an air of the deepest respect.

‘Good,’ said the visitor, unmoved by this scrutiny. ‘Now about the Il Cicerone thing—’

‘It is entirely for recreation, sir, that you inquire?’

‘Why not?’

‘Indeed! Of course! I merely wondered—’

‘Come on. What did you wonder?’

‘If perhaps there might be a professional aspect.’