‘I think there is,’ said Carver. Or was he over-interpreting, imagining an aggressive defensiveness about the older man? Maybe. Or maybe not. There was enough for him to question this man who had always been unquestionable. Again the qualification came. The problem was that there wasn’t enough. There was a huge, gaping black hole that had to be filled with something he could understand.

‘What?’

Carver lowered himself into a facing, button-backed chair. ‘I happened upon some current working figures for three of our oldest clients… your oldest clients… Companies that for years have made up the bedrock of our business…’ He hesitated at the moment of commitment. ‘Mulder Incorporated… Encomp… Innsflow International…’

A flush began to suffuse Northcote’s face, accentuated by the pure whiteness of his hair, but when he spoke the loudness had gone from his voice. ‘None of your business… How…?’

‘In the vaults. Your safe was open. And it is my business, because I’m taking over this business, which I intend to do as a memorial to you.’

‘Spy!’ accused the other man.

‘I went to close it properly. Which you hadn’t done.’

‘My personal clients…’ The unaccustomedly subdued voice trailed away.

‘Yes, George,’ picked up Carver. ‘Always your personal clients. And still your personal clients, whom no one else had anything to do with.’

‘Retained with the full agreement of the partners. Yourself, my successor as senior partner, included. In signed minutes.’

Why, wondered Carver, had Northcote felt it necessary to remind him of his succession to the chairmanship upon his father-in-law’s semi-retirement? Or of the minutes acknowledging Northcote’s continued handling of the three accounts being officially signed and recorded? ‘They never went through general audit: haven’t done for years. Always your personal audit and you always personally signed them off.’