There didn’t seem anything to say and Mallory lit a cigarette and walked to the window. He peered outside, then turned.

“The motor-cruiser you mentioned, what kind is it?”

“A thirty-footer by Akerboon. Twin screw, steel hull.”

“Only the best?” He looked suitably impressed. “How’s she powered?”

“Penta petrol engine. She’ll do about twenty-two knots at full stretch.

“Depth-sounder, automatic steering, every latest refinement?” He grinned. “I’d say she must have cost you all of seven thousand pounds.”

“Not me,” she said. “My father-in-law. All I did was obey orders. He told me exactly what he wanted.”

“Sounds like a man who’s used to getting his own way.”

She smiled. “A habit he finds hard to break. He’s a major-general.”

“Grant?” Mallory frowned. “Are you talking about Iron Grant? The Western Desert man?”

She nodded. “That’s right. He’s been living in the Channel Islands since he left the army. I keep house for him.”

“What does the old boy do with himself these days?”

“He’s almost blind now,” she said, “but he’s still amazingly active and he’s made quite a reputation for himself as a war historian. He uses a tape-recorder and his daughter Fiona and I type up his notes for him.”

“You said you wanted Sondergard to have had some experience as skin-diver? Why was that?” “It wasn’t essential, but he could have been useful. In the fifteenth century a small fishing village and fortress on lie de Roc were inundated. The ruins are now about eight fathoms down a few hundred yards off-shore. We’re making a survey. Fiona and I have been doing most of the diving so far.”

“Sounds interesting,” he said. “You shouldn’t find any difficulty in getting another man from the pool to take on a job like that.”

As he looked out of the window and down into the yellow fog she said quietly, “I was wondering whether you might be interested?”