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ice bucket over to the cocktail cabinet, dropped two cubes into each goblet, handed White one goblet, resumed his position in front of the fireplace, even though he had the uneasy impression that he was not cutting the figure he had intended.
    White raised his glass. ‘The best way to get to know a guy is to have a drink with him. Wouldn’t you agree?’
    â€˜I can’t say I’ve ever considered the proposition.’
    â€˜That’s what I like about you Brits. The dignified way you do everything, most of all, speak … Now, what do we drink to? A long life if it’s a happy one, a short one if it isn’t?’
    The words were inane, but they seemed to Cooper somehow to carry a threat. He struggled to break free from the growing feeling of disquiet. ‘Have you met my wife?’
    â€˜I’ve not had the pleasure.’
    â€˜From the way you spoke earlier, I assumed you must have done.’
    â€˜It’s just that when I’ve seen her around, I’ve said to myself, now there’s the genuine English rose.’
    â€˜But if you’ve never met her, how could you know what she looks like?’
    â€˜I’ve been watching how things go around here.’
    â€˜You’ve … you’ve been doing what?’
    â€˜I always like to learn a little about the life of someone I’m asking to repay a debt.’
    â€˜I don’t know what the devil you mean by that.’
    â€˜I mean, a debt of one million two hundred and fifty grand, plus another hundred grand for expenses and loss of interest.’
    â€˜Over a million pesetas…’
    â€˜Dollars. Payable within the next forty-eight hours.’
    â€˜You’re crazy.’
    â€˜Let’s try and make it easier for you to understand. Remember Campbell?’
    He searched his brain, but found only chaos.
    â€˜He visited your shop and told you he was acting for a buyer who wanted a nice picture, or two.’
    Even at such a confused moment, the word ‘shop’ infuriated him. ‘I owned a gallery, not a shop.’
    â€˜So where’s the difference? He was buying, you were selling.’
    â€˜Obviously, there’s no point in trying to explain.’
    â€˜Then leave me to do the talking. Campbell told you that he wanted quality. You suggested something by a Frenchman because in twenty years’ time his work would be worth a whole lot more than was paid. Later on, you sold two paintings for one million two hundred and fifty grand. Now, my principal is asking for his money back. With that extra.’
    Memory finally returned. Some time before he’d sold the gallery, Campbell – an American, which had explained his choice in clothes and his brash manner – had appeared and said he represented a client who looked to art as a means of investment. The artistic side of Cooper’s character had urged him to point out that a painting should be appreciated for its quality, not its financial potential, but his business instincts had been too strong for him to act on so high-minded an urge. He had taken Campbell to lunch at one of his favourite restaurants. Incredibly, the other had chosen to drink Coca-Cola as an apéritif. The wine waiter had only just managed to conceal his contempt. It would, he had said over the prawn mousse, be necessary first to speak to the actual buyer to ascertain what were his interests, since even if he bought because of investment potential, it was best that he should like the work or works. That, Campbell had said, was unnecessary. Just find something that would make a good investment, up to a million dollars; it was immaterial who the artist, period, and subject were. It sounded doubtful. By the time Cooper was eating the apple and passion fruit flan, liberally coated with whipped cinnamon cream, he had angrily decided that he’d been conned into providing a free and expensive meal.
    However, a week later, Campbell had