All the same the Senior Tutor was still in a filthy mood when he set off for the Porterhouse Boat House across Midsummer Common and as he rode his bicycle his thoughts were centred on Dr Purefoy Osbert. He would dearly like to find some way of making that young man regret the day he had ever set foot in Porterhouse. He was still considering the possibility of somehow incriminating the damned Dr Osbert when, having vented his fury on the First Boat, he cycled back to the College.

As he passed the Porter's Lodge Walter came out with an envelope.

'Sorry to bother you, sir,' he said. 'Urgent message for Dr Osbert and since you're on the same staircase I wonder…' The Senior Tutor took the envelope and hurried on. He was anxious to see what the urgent message was. It might prove to be useful.

Once in his room he switched the electric kettle on and steamed the envelope open and read the letter inside. It held little interest for him. It was simply an invitation from the President of the American Association for the Abolition of Cruel and Unusual Punishment to meet with the author of _The Long Drop,_ a work that she had read with great interest and appreciation etc. Unfortunately her schedule was very tight and the only free evening available was Friday. She was staying with friends in Cambridge overnight but would be honoured to meet Dr Osbert outside the Royal Hotel at 8 p.m. The Senior Tutor folded the letter and put it back into the envelope before changing his mind and tearing it up. That was one appointment Dr Osbert was not going to keep.

In London Schnabel was on the phone to Transworld Television. 'I'm telling you they are evidently offering you a way out,' he told Hartang. 'This guy's the genuine article and he's got real influence.'

'Like how real?' Hartang wanted to know.

'Like Downing Street,' Schnabel told him.

There was a long pause while Hartang considered this extraordinary statement.

'He's got that sort of influence, what's he want from me?' he asked finally.

'I don't know. He's got some sort of proposal to put to you. He stated quite specifically that he thought that the matter could be dealt with on an amicable and mutually beneficial basis. Feuchtwangler was with me. He can tell you.' Feuchtwangler told him and handed the phone back to Schnabel. It took another half hour to convince Hartang to agree to see the Praelector and even then he remained highly suspicious. It was the mention of extradition to Singapore as an alternative that finally persuaded him.

'You get this one wrong, Schnabel, and I won't just be looking for some new legal advisers, I'll be needing the help of some contractors from Chicago. Know what I mean?'

Schnabel said he did, and hung up. 'Number Eleven Downing Street and the stupid bastard talks like that,' he said.

The Praelector rose late and had a leisurely breakfast. Then, in case his movements were being watched, he paid a visit to a nephew who did have a job in the Home Office. After that he had lunch with a retired bishop. All in all his day was spent building up in any watcher's mind the belief that he was dealing with a man of very considerable influence. When he returned to the Goring Hotel, an invitation to meet with Mr Edgar Hartang at the Transworld Television Centre was waiting for him. The Praelector had a rest and then took a taxi to Docklands where he was subjected to a body check and the attentions of the metal detector before shooting up and down in the elevator to the unnumbered floor and Hartang's bleak office. Hartang greeted him with an ingratiating concern and a sickening servility that fully substantiated the Bursar's account of his meeting with him. Hartang had slipped into his middle-European charm mode. It didn't fool the Praelector for a moment. On the other hand he was pleased to see that Hartang had discarded the blazer and the polo-neck and even the white socks and was dressed slightly more formally in a light suit with a plain tie.

'I am authorized,' said the Praelector when the slight courtesies were over, 'by the College Council of Porterhouse College to offer you the position of Master of the College.' He paused and looked at Hartang with all the solemn benevolence he could muster. Hartang was staring at him through lightly tinted glasses-the dark blue ones had gone with the white socks and moccasins-with a mixture of incredulity and extreme suspicion.

The Praelector savoured his astonishment for a moment and then went on. 'My purpose in doing so is to achieve two objects, the first beneficial to the College and the second, I believe, very much to your standing as an eminent financier and as an individual. Let me say that the gift of the Mastership at Porterhouse is the Crown prerogative and it is only in exceptional circumstances that the Crown, or to be more precise the Government of the day, that is to say the Prime Minister is prepared to derogate its authority in these matters to the College Council. It has done so in the present case for reasons that we need not go into and which, in any event, I am not at liberty to divulge. Suffice to say these reasons have to do with the national interest. Treaty obligations with certain countries can be obviated by your acceptance while at the same time your recognized financial expertise will remain inviolate.' The Praelector paused again and this time he assumed the most solemn expression to emphasize the seriousness with which he had spoken. He hadn't tickled trout as a boy without learning when to take particular care. Edgar Hartang hardly breathed at the other end of the green sofa.

'Naturally you will want to consider the proposal at your leisure and consult your advisers before giving an answer. However, I can assure you that the position of Master is not offered lightly or capriciously. Nor does it involve more than formal duties. You would have as your residence the Master's Lodge, the provision of College servants and of any amenities you chose to provide for your own comfort and security. At the same time your social position would be assured. I cannot put it more highly than that. Porterhouse College is one of the oldest in. Cambridge and, if I may be permitted a moment's frankness, your contribution in the field of electronic communications would be invaluable to us, to say nothing of your financial expertise. I will leave you now. I shall be staying at the Goring Hotel for three more days and will await your answer there.'

The Praelector rose and took his leave with a slight diplomatic bow. As the elevator doors shut Hartang loosened his collar and then sat down again and tried to come to terms with the extraordinary mixture of threats and promises he had just heard. In a life full of crude alarms and brutal opportunities he had never experienced anything in the least like this. For an hour he tried to find a snag in the Praelector's offer and failed. Maybe Schnabel would know. He picked up the phone and punched the lawyer's home number.

It was an altered Edgar Hartang who went into conference with Schnabel, Feuchtwangler and Bolsover that evening.

The realization that something fundamental had occurred in his life had softened Edgar Hartang's approach to his legal advisers. 'You believe it's for real, the old guy having the authority to negotiate like he's an ambassador or something?' he asked them.

'We do,' said Schnabel.

'It's a very great honour, sir,' said Bolsover.

'It's helluva good protection,' was Feuchtwangler's comment. 'I never heard of them extraditing a college President yet.' Hartang gnawed a knuckle. He hadn't liked that talk about treaty obligations one bit. A godson at Number Eleven Downing Street and what the fuck had the old geezer been doing with the guy who worked in the Home Office and Bishops and all?