His uncle rose from his desk as he entered, closing a large file which he had apparently been studying, although Avery sensed that he had been sitting facing the door for some while. To compose himself? That seemed unlikely. To get it over quickly, duty done, was that it?

They shook hands, and Sillitoe said, "That will be all, Marlow." A small man whom Avery had not noticed got up from another desk and scurried away. It must be his uncle's secretary but, typically, Sillitoe did not introduce him.

He said, "I have some claret. I think you will approve of it." He faced him again and Avery was very aware of the dark, compelling eyes, the hooded lids, the gaze which took in every detail. He could well imagine people fearing him.

"I am glad you are here. It becomes ever more difficult to find the time." He frowned slightly as another servant entered with the claret and glasses. "It is fortunate you were in London, and that you received my note." The stare was impassive, no hint of triumph or contempt. He added calmly, "How is Lady Mildmay, by the way?"

"She is well, sir. It seems there are few secrets left in London."

Sillitoe gave a faint smile. "Quite so. But then, you have not exactly taken pains to conceal your… how shall we describe it? Your liaison with this lady, who, I gather, was the wife of your last captain? Of course I knew of it. And I am not certain that I approve, not that I expect you would care."

Avery sat down. What did it matter? I owe this man nothing.

He thought suddenly of Bolitho. I owe him everything.

"You will not have heard." Sillitoe took a glass and regarded it severely. "Sir Richard is recalled to London. He is needed."

Avery sipped the claret without tasting it. "I thought he was to be released from active duty, sir."

Sillitoe gazed at him over the rim of his glass, a little startled by the force of the words.