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you.’
    ‘But that’s just where you’re wrong, dear boy!’ said Thoroughgood delightedly. ‘Still it’s not Miss Pageant who interests us – delightful though she is.
It’s your little commie friend; D.F. Browne’s daughter – Verity, isn’t that her name? I believe you met her last year when you were looking into that business of poor
General Craig’s death. She visited you this morning . . . rather early?’
    Edward coloured. ‘My God, Thoroughgood, don’t tell me I am being watched. Surely England is not yet a police state?’
    ‘No, Corinth, no suspicion is attached to you, I assure you.’ He avoided admitting or denying that he and Verity were being watched, Edward noticed.
    ‘Meaning that suspicion is attached to Miss Browne. Is that it?’ said Edward acidly.
    ‘Well, of course. We like to keep an eye on political extremists of whatever persuasion and your friend Miss Browne is a member of the Communist Party.’
    ‘ “We”? You keep mentioning “we”,’ Edward said coldly, wondering why he did not simply get up and leave.
    ‘Did I say “we” again? I am so sorry. I meant the FO, you understand,’ knowing Edward would take it to be the lie that it was. ‘The FO is interested in the
activities of your friend Miss Browne and that chap of hers – most unpleasant fella – what’s his name? They are living in Madrid, are they not?’
    ‘I imagine you know perfectly well that that is where Verity – Miss Browne – is. There is no secret about it; she is a foreign correspondent for the New
Gazette .’
    ‘Ah yes, back to Lord Weaver, eh Corinth? He has a finger in so many pies.’
    ‘And you doubtless also know,’ Edward went on, ‘that Mr Griffiths-Jones is in prison accused of the murder of a colleague. As it happens, we both knew him: Godfrey
Tilney.’
    ‘Yes, as you say, I did know. Tilney! What an odd lot there were at Eton with us, don’t you think? And that was why Miss Browne visited you this morning? She was soliciting your help
in staying Griffiths-Jones’ execution? I hope you told her there was nothing you could do – because of course there is nothing you or anyone else can do. David
Griffiths-Jones,’ he repeated the name as though he were holding it up for inspection. ‘Oh yes, we know a good deal about that young man. He’s a bad hat, take my word for
it.’
    ‘As a matter of fact, Thoroughgood, that is more or less what I did tell her – that I couldn’t do anything, I mean. However, I did say I would try and get in touch with
Tilney’s parents and see if they might appeal for clemency. Miss Browne is convinced of Griffiths-Jones’ innocence.’
    ‘Well, yes, of course she would be.’ There was a sneer in Thoroughgood’s tone of voice which finally achieved what he had presumably been aiming at for the past hour: Edward
lost his temper.
    ‘By God, Thoroughgood,’ he said rising. ‘I thought you were a nasty piece of work when we were at school but now I see you have become a complete cad. If you think insulting
Miss Browne is a way of persuading me to do something for you . . .’
    ‘Sit down, Corinth,’ said Thoroughgood, not moving from his chair, ‘and don’t be a fool. You’re drawing attention to yourself. I’m not insulting anyone. In
fact, it is just possible we might be able to help her . . . her friend.’
    Edward sat down slowly. ‘How and why?’ he said shortly.
    ‘Two good questions, dear boy.’ Thoroughgood, who was only Edward’s senior by two or three years, seemed to enjoy patronising him. ‘The fact is, we need someone inside
the British Communist Party to be our eyes and ears.’
    ‘Let me be clear,’ said Edward after taking a deep breath, ‘you want me, as your representative, to save Griffiths-Jones’ life in return for him working for you –
spying in other words – betraying everything he believes in?’
    ‘Oh, come on, Corinth. Don’t be so naive. Your schoolboy honour is not appropriate in the