He tapped on a door and there was no answer so we went in. Very lush carpet and solicitor's office furniture and a portrait of the Queen and a small photograph suitably half concealed by a filing cabinet, an over-exposed long shot with plenty of camera shake, girl on a horse. Egerton should have a room like this but what would he do with it? Plug in a beat-up 250-watt fire and crouch over it with his miseries.

'How long have you been in Warsaw?'

'Six months.' It was said quickly. He was going to get everything right from now on. He sat forward in the other chair, watching me very directly and breathing on his nerves. I went out in — '

'How long's your tour?'

'A year.'

'Where were you before?'

'In Prague. Then there was a home posting before I — '

'You were there during the Prague Spring?'

'Yes.'

'Isn't it unusual to get posted to another Moscow-controlled country the next time out?'

'I asked for the post.'

'Why?'

'I was very affected by what happened in Prague. I liked the people there — I made a lot of friends.' He took something out of his pocket. 'It looks like happening all over again, this time in Warsaw.' It was an atomiser and he pumped it into his mouth. 'Excuse me,' he said.

'So you want to be there, all over again?'

'Well yes, I — '

'No wonder you've got asthma.'

He stopped pumping and put the thing away and said rather sulkily. ‘If the Poles can win their freedom I'd like to be there. It'd be something to remember, wouldn't it, a thing like that?'

'Were you born in England?'

'Yes. You can't enter the Diplomatic Service unless — '

'Englishmen don't think much about freedom.'

'Well no. But that's because they've got it, isn't it?'