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individual sessions, general discussions,
    private discussions, lively conversations, good food, coffee, sherry, wine. The whole
    thing had been an enormous success.
    On Wednesday evening the Arabs had booked the Disraeli suite at the Sheridan for a
    farewell party, and all the Syndicate's permanent staff, together with wives and
    sweethearts, and all the Syndicate's governing council, were invited to the junketing.
    Sheik Ahmed himself, resplendent in his middle-eastern robes, took his seat beside a
    radiant Monica Height, exquisitely dressed in a pale-lilac trouser-suit; and Donald
    Martin, as he sat next to his plain-looking little wife, her white skirt creased and her
    black jumper covered with dandruff, was feeling progressively more miserable. The
    Sheik had clearly commandeered the fair Monica for the evening and was regularly
    flashing his white and golden smile as he leaned towards her—intimate, confiding.
    And she was smiling back at him—attentive, flattered, inviting . . . Quinn noticed them,
    of course, and as he finished his shrimp cocktail he watched them more closely. The
    Sheik was in full flow, but whether his words were meant for Monica alone, Quinn was
    quite unable to tell.
    'As one of your own Englishmen told me one day, Miss Height,
    "Oysters is amorous,
    Lobsters is lecherous,
    But Shrimps—Christ!" '
    Monica laughed and said something close beside the Sheik's ear which Quinn could
    not follow. How foolish he had been to harbour any hope! And then he was able to
    follow another brief passage of their conversation, and he knew that the words must
    certainly have been whispered pianissimo . He felt his heart beat thicker and faster. He must surely have been mistaken . . .
    Towards midnight the party had dwindled to about a third of its original number. Philip
    Ogleby, who had drunk more than anyone, seemed the only obviously sober one
    amongst them; the Martins had left for home some time ago; Monica and Sheik Ahmed
    suddenly reappeared after an unexplained absence of over half an hour; Bartlett was
    talking rather too loudly, and his large solicitous wife had already several times
    reminded him that gin always made him slur his words; one of the Arabs was in
    earnest negotiation with one of the barmaids; and of the Syndics, only the Dean, Voss,
    and Roope appeared capable of sustaining the lively pace for very much longer.
    At half past midnight Quinn decided that he must go. He felt hot and vaguely sick, and
    he walked into the Gentlemen's, where he leaned his head against the coolness of the
    wall mirror. He knew he would feel rough in the morning, and he still had to drive back
    to his bachelor home in Kidlington. Why hadn't he been sensible and ordered a taxi?
    He slapped water over his face, turned on the cold tap over his wrists, combed his
    hair, and felt slightly better. He would say his thank-yous and goodbyes, and be off.
    Only a few were left now, and he felt almost an interloper as he re-entered the suite.
    He tried to catch Bartlett's eye, but the Secretary was deep in conversation with Sheik
    Ahmed, and Quinn stared rather fecklessly around for a few minutes before finally
    sitting down and looking again towards his hosts. But still they talked. And then
    Ogleby joined them; and then Roope walked over, and Bartlett and Ogleby moved
    away; and men the Dean and Voss went across; and finally Monica. Quinn felt almost
    mesmerized as he watched the changing groupings and tried to catch the drift of what
    they were talking about. He felt a simultaneous sense of guilt and fascination as he
    looked at their lips and followed their conversations, as though he were standing
    almost immediately beside them. He knew instinctively that some of the words must
    have been whispered very quietly; but to him most of them were as clear as if they
    were being shouted through a megaphone. He remembered one occasion (his
    hearing had been fairly good then) when he had picked up a phone and heard, on