He went off to pay his compliments to Elizabeth, leaving me with only a deep sense of relief. All I had to do now was discover where Drennan had lived, and then collect the diaries, and I had time enough for that now. The urgency had gone out of one part of my life at least.

And now the meeting proper was under way; the English were in Elizabeth's salon, the French took over her library, the Russians were closeted in the sitting room. The dining room served as neutral territory, where all could talk freely. A ridiculous amount of time was lost in small talk, enquiries about the voyage from London, earnest entreaties that good wishes be communicated to everyone from the President to the Tsar to wives and sons and daughters. There was talk about hunting and politics as they slowly got the measure of each other, sidled towards the main subject which all knew must arise sooner or later, then backed away again.

It was necessary, all this, it set the tone, gauged emotions and nerves. Then, all of a sudden, as though some hidden decision had been taken, some sign given, Count Gurunjiev began:

'I fear Mr Cort was trying to pull the wool over my eyes when we met the other day,' he began. 'I discover that what he so skilfully described as a small matter of accounting is nothing of the sort.'

'And how is that?' Goschen asked.

'I do not understand finance: in that Mr Cort was quite correct. But you make a mistake in thinking I do not understand politics, or diplomacy. His little matter of accounting seems to involve a fundamental shift in Russian foreign policy. And of French.'

'I think that is an exaggeration.'

Here it comes, I thought. They've been talking about it, they've agreed a joint strategy. Rouvier, I knew, had been bombarded by the Rothschilds all day, one banker after another presenting the case for intervention, for reversing the policy, and offering who knew what inducements; he was the only senior French figure who wasn't there. Delayed by the Chambre des Députés, someone said. Will be along when he can leave. No doubt those who wished to pursue the matter and go ahead had also been putting their case as well. The Count was about to give the first hint of which side had triumphed.

'I imagine the interest rate that the Bank of France would charge for lending gold to the Bank of England will be very high. Naturally, you cannot expect the Russian government to accept a lower reward.'

Better than saying there could be no deal at all. But he could still set the price so high that it would be unpayable.

'I never expected for a moment that would be the case,' Goschen said a little grumpily. 'Of course, your assistance would be rewarded, and acknowledged in public, if you so wish.'

'Can you give me any reason why we should in any way give assistance to Great Britain?'

'From our point of view, or from yours? I can think of many.'

'Really? It is in Russia's interests to weaken Britain as much as possible, surely? India, the Ottoman Empire, the Mediterranean, the Balkans. In all these areas our policies are diametrically opposed.'

'That is true. But I do not think your Government believes that Afghanistan is the major problem you face at the moment.'

'And what would you say that is?'

'Bismarck has gone. The treaty you had with Germany went with him. You have no allies, no friends, and you have a gigantic border facing the most powerful army in the world.'

'And England will come to our aid in exchange for a few bars of gold?'

'No. No more than it will help France recover Alsace. But you, as a military man, know that the Russian army is woefully unprepared for modern war. It has no railways to ferry troops and supplies; not enough factories to produce armaments; a navy which would scarcely trouble Nelson, even if the sailors were well trained. You are a vast empire, and a military pygmy. You have the men, but lack the more important aspect of modern warfare. Which is money.'

Good point, I thought, and nicely put. Goschen was revealing a combative streak I had not suspected he possessed.

'What we offer is to let the French assist you. They seem open to the proposal.'

'You want to buy us with other people's money?'

'Britain's banks are supreme in the world. For the past twenty years they have made a fortune out of South America. That, as you know, has now come to an abrupt end. So they will be looking for new markets. They will crowd France out of any they choose to concentrate on. We offer the French a free hand in Russia. We will offer only a token competition for form's sake. France will be able to grow its banking sector, strengthen it in ways it could not otherwise do. And you will get all the money you desperately need.

'The point is,' Goschen continued, 'if there is a general financial crisis, France will not be in a position to lend you a single centime. If the banks of London are crippled, so will many French banks be. Capital will evaporate, loans vanish like morning mist. If you want a modern army or navy, then you must leave your money in Barings' vaults. What is more, you know this perfectly well.'

The Russian frowned. 'I have been told similar things by my advisers. The doctrine that you must strengthen your enemy in order to defeat him I find a bizarre one.'

'It is nonetheless the case. I could name you at least six French banks which would be badly wounded if Barings fails. All hold Barings paper, all have loaned Russia money.'

'There must be more than that. You paint me a picture of paradox, where it becomes logical for us to help our worst enemy. But, in return, our worst enemy must help us.'

'Go on.'

Here it comes, here comes the bill, I thought.

'You are afraid of Russian influence; you must help us increase that influence. You fear our interference in the Ottoman Empire; you must make our interference more effective. You fear we want to build a fleet to challenge you in the Black Sea, the Straits, the Mediterranean itself. You must help us build a fleet that can defeat you. That is the price, Mr Goschen. The Russian navy needs a shipyard on the Black Sea coast, capable of building and maintaining everything that floats. The latest weapons, the best facilities. If you agree to that, then I will believe you are serious, and we can then discuss Barings.'

'I'm afraid that would be impossible,' Goschen replied instantly. 'Even were we minded to do so, it could not be done. No government would survive such a thing; any which tried would fall within weeks, and be replaced by one who promised to oppose it absolutely.'

'In that case, I fear we have difficulties,' said the Count sadly. 'I have tried to be reasonable – you are no doubt as aware as I that we could have asked for very much more. If such a small thing cannot be done, then I can offer no more. I, too, have people to satisfy. I cannot propose something which seems like a humiliating failure.'

I pulled Wilkinson aside. 'Keep him talking,' I said quietly. 'Whatever you do, do not let him leave. I have an idea. Just make sure he's here when I get back.'

I took Elizabeth's carriage, which clattered through the streets at a breakneck pace, hurtling through the streets at the sort of speed which had pedestrians cursing me and the poor horses sweating profusely by the time we pulled up at the Hôtel du Louvre. I didn't bother with announcing myself, just ran up the stairs, all four floors, and along the corridor to Stone's suite, and hammered on the door.

'You must come. You're needed.'

We were back in the carriage a few moments later, back at her house twenty minutes after that. We had been gone an hour, and the Russians were losing their tempers by the time we arrived. So, it must be said, were Goschen and Wilkinson, who felt like fools, having to make polite and meaningless conversation all that time.