'Of course, sir. If you'll excuse me ...' Patmore turned away, obviously glad to be out of the embarrassing din which echoed about the chamber.

'I give myself up to you, Signor Sparkman, in honour, in friendship, in trust. I have plenipotentiary powers…'

'Will you hold your damned tongue!' Sparkman cried, his efforts to expostulate having failed under Bardolini's verbal barrage. Bardolini grew quiet, seeing Drinkwater properly for the first time as he moved away from the door and ceased to be in silhouette to a man who had spent fifteen hours in the dark.

'This is Captain Drinkwater, Colonel, from London…'

'A captain,' Bardolini sneered, 'a captain? I am a colonel in the light cavalry of the Royal Life Guard! Am I to be met by a captain?'

'I am a captain in His Britannic Majesty's Royal Navy, Colonel Bardolini,' Drinkwater said, stepping forward and edging Sparkman to one side. 'I believe us to be equal in rank, sir,' he added with a hint of sarcasm which, he noted, was lost on Bardolini. 'Do you release our guest, Mr Sparkman.'

'I, er, I don't have the key, sir. Mr Patmore ...'

'Then run and get it,' Drinkwater snapped. As soon as they were alone, he turned to Bardolini. 'I beg you to forgive the inconvenience to which you have been put, Colonel. You must appreciate the dangers of accepting everyone arriving from Europe at face value. Our orders are quite specific and to men of Lieutenant Sparkman's stamp, essential. D'you understand?'

'What is stamp?'

'Character ...'

'Ah, si. Not so clever, eh?'

'Indeed, yes.' Drinkwater smiled. The untruthful but reassuring little collusion between two senior officers mollified Bardolini, and then Sparkman was back with a key and they led the Neapolitan out into a watery sunshine which showed the breaking up of the scud and foretold a shift in the wind. On the far side of the parade, Patmore stood beside an open door and Drinkwater began to walk towards him.