The Charm Monsters — the Business' Conjurations and Interludans division — had been kept at bay by the terms of Uncle Freddy's will.  I think Miss Heggies was grateful for that, though there wasn't much she could do about the presence of Maeve Watkins.  Still, they seemed to get along politely enough, Miss H serving Mrs W tea in the drawing room with a civility that was one notch up from frosty, and Mrs W seeming slightly embarrassed and modestly grateful.

The company was represented by Madame Tchassot, the other Level One apart from Hazleton who'd been at the weekend party at Blysecrag three weeks earlier.  I asked to have a word with her alone.  We sat in Blysecrag's toweringly impressive library; she settled her small elegant frame into a seat, carefully smoothing her black skirt under her bony legs.

'What is it that concerns you, Kathryn?' She looked around, then pulled a small container like a powder compact from her handbag. 'Oh.  Do you think it is permitted to smoke in here?'

'I don't know.'

'You don't mind if I do?' Her accent was confusing, half-way between French and German.

'No, I don't.'

She offered me a cigarette, which I refused.  She lit up.  The little container was a closable ashtray; she placed it on the table at her side. 'I understand you might be moving to Thulahn,' she said, tapping the end of the Dunhill gently against the edge of the little ashtray, though the ash wasn't ready to come off yet.

I watched this, trying to judge how much to say, trying to think back to what I knew of Madame Tchassot.  How close was she to Hazleton?  The fact that she was supposed to have a thing going with Adrian Poudenhaut didn't mean much by itself.  If it did mean anything beyond the purely personal, it might even mean that Hazleton was using Poudenhaut to keep an eye on her.  Though it might mean something else, too.

'Possibly.'

She blinked behind her small glasses. 'The rumour I have heard is that Prince Suvinder has proposed to you.' She smiled. 'That is very interesting.'

'Yes, it is, isn't it?  I wondered at one stage if that had somehow been set up.'

'Set up?  How do you mean?'

'I mean that somebody, or some people, at the highest level of the Business, decided that having an agreement with the Prince, legal or otherwise, wasn't good enough to guarantee that Thulahn was really ours, and that having one of our own high-level execs married to the ruler would be a far more satisfactory way of cementing the relationship between us and Thulahn.'

'Ah, yes, I see.  But it would be something of a long shot, yes?'

'Not that long, perhaps.  The people concerned already knew that the Prince was…keen on me.  And I was sounded out, first by Mr Dessous and then by Mr Cholongai.  I misinterpreted, at the time:  I thought they were really trying to find out how suited I would be to becoming a sort of ambassador to Thulahn, which is the pretext that was used to get me to go there.  I thought they were worried that I was insufficiently committed, not so much to the company as to the idea of personal monetary success and, I suppose, laissez-faire capitalism itself.  What they were really worried about, I think, is that I was too committed to those things.'

She blinked. 'Can one be?'

'I think so, if you are hoping that the person concerned might find something in a poor, underdeveloped Third World country that she can't find in her very comfortable existence in one of the richest parts of the richest state in the richest country in the world.'

'I have heard that Thulahn is enchanting,' Madame Tchassot said, persuading some ash to drop from her cigarette. 'I have never been there.' She looked over her glasses at me. 'Would you recommend a visit?'

'In a personal or a business capacity?'

She looked surprised. 'I think one may only savour enchantment in a personal capacity, no?'

'Of course.  Madame Tchassot, may I ask if what I'm talking about here is all new to you, or did you already know of anything like this before?'

'But, Kathryn, if all that you are speculating about had been spoken about at my level, you would be asking me now to reveal what the Board has discussed.  You must know that I cannot do that.' She smiled, and put one hand to her tightly gathered hair. 'However, there are less formal occasions when such subjects arise between Board members, and in that context I can tell you that there was some talk of you being just the right person to represent us in Thulahn, and the point was made that the Prince's high regard for you would be to the good in this respect.  I do not think that any of us thought for one moment he would make you a proposal of marriage.  For my part, and I mean no disrespect, I would have imagined that he would want to marry, or would be obliged to marry, someone of a certain social class.'

'That's what I thought.  Apparently not.'

'Hmm.  That is also interesting.' She looked thoughtful. 'Have you made a decision yet, Kathryn?'

'I told the Prince no.'

'Oh.  The rumour I heard was that you were undecided.  Well, that might be unfortunate, or fortunate.  Would you still consider the post in Thulahn?'

'I am still considering it.'

'Good.  I hope you did not turn the Prince down only because you thought that we had manoeuvred you into the position of being asked.'

'No.  I turned him down because I don't love him.'

She seemed to think about this. 'We are so lucky, aren't we,' she said, 'to be able to marry for love?'

This was probably as distracted as I was ever going to get her. 'Do you know anything about the Silex thing, Madame Tchassot?'

She frowned. 'No.  What is the Silex thing?'

'I'm not sure.  I thought perhaps you could tell me.'

'I'm afraid I cannot.'

'Then I may have to ask Mr Hazleton.'

'Ah.  Mr Hazleton.  Do you think he knows about it?'

'He may.  Silex is a chip-manufacturing plant in Scotland.  There seemed to be something odd about it.  I was looking into it.' I paused. 'I think Adrian Poudenhaut was, too.  I wondered if he'd said anything to you.'

'Why would he do that, Kathryn?' Now there was a reaction.  She coloured faintly.  My bet was that Madame Tchassot was either an extraordinarily gifted actress, or she'd been telling the truth so far.

'I hear rumours too, Madame Tchassot,' I said.  I gave a small, nervous-looking smile and lowered my eyes. 'I'm sorry if I've embarrassed you.'

'Adrian and I are close, Kathryn.  But we do not discuss business…how should I say?… gratuitously.'

'Of course.' I smiled in what I hoped was a friendly way. 'I was hoping to have a word with Adrian about the matter.  But please don't say anything to him.  I'll go through Mr Hazleton.'

We talked a little more after that.  Madame Tchassot smoked a few more cigarettes.

'Telman?'

'Mr Dessous.  Hello.'

'How the hell are you, Telman?  What can I do for you?  And why did this call have to be scrambled?  Yeah, and why aren't you calling me Jeb like I told you?'

'I'm fine, Jeb.  You?'

'Mad as hell.'

'I'm sorry to hear that.  What's happened?'

'Damn Feds took away my Scuds, that's what.'

'Oh dear.  Do you mean Scud missiles?'

'Of course.  What the hell else would I mean?  Thought I'd hidden them too good.  Those fornicating interfering scumbags must have been tipped off.  Informer in the ranks, Telman.  Least you're not on the list of suspects.  I never did tell you where they were hid, did I?'

'Not that I can recall.  Where were they?'

'Inside a couple of grain silos.  My idea.  Grain silos, missile silos.  Clever, huh?  Thought that would be the last place anybody'd look if they ever did come snooping around.'

'Didn't they do that in a Man From U.N.C.L.E. episode?'

'What?'

'I'm sure there was a Man From U.N.C.L.E. episode where the bad guys hid missiles in grain silos.  Long time ago, of course.'