'I am she,' she said in a soft voice, 'and I will take your confusion as a compliment. A slightly fumbled one, perhaps, but appreciated, nonetheless.'

She had enjoyed the little exchange; I could see her eyes dancing in her otherwise expressionless face, as though she was grateful for the first amusement she had had for many days. She was dressed in mourning, but made the black attire seem alluring; she was wearing what was then called a lampshade dress, with a jacket that fitted close around the neck, and a simple necklace of very large grey pearls which stood out against the black velvet of the clothes. I knew next to nothing of such things, only enough to realise that the clothes were the latest in what women considered fashionable. Certainly, even to an amateur like me, the general impression was all very striking. And only the colour suggested anything like mourning.

I sat down. Nobody likes appearing to be a fool, and I had not made a very good start. The fact that she was quite pleased with the way things were going did not help. Only later – very much later – did I consider that my inept beginnings might have had something to do with the lady herself, for she was beautiful, although if you considered her face there was no obvious reason to think so. It was not what you might call conventionally handsome; in fact, you might have almost concluded she was slightly odd looking. There was a distinct asymmetry to her features: her nose and mouth too big; her eyebrows too dark. But she was beautiful because she thought she was so, and so dressed and sat and moved in a fashion which elicited the appropriate response from those who saw her. I did not consciously notice this at the time, but it must have had some effect on me.

The best thing to do, I decided, was nothing. She had summoned me, so it was for her to begin. This allowed her to take control of the meeting, but that was no more than recognising reality. So I arranged myself as best I could and tried hard to conceal my discomfiture.

'I have spent much time recently reading the newspapers, Mr Braddock,' she began. 'What I am told are your innumerable contributions.'

'I am gratified, your ladyship.'

'It was not for your literary talent – although I have no doubt you are skilled in your chosen occupation. It is because I have need of someone with an ability to amass information and study it dispassionately. You seem to be just such a person.'

'Thank you.'

'Unfortunately, I also need someone who can be discreet, which I believe is not normally a characteristic of reporters.'

'We are professional gossips,' I said, cheerful again now I was on to a topic I knew about. 'I am paid to be indiscreet.'

'And if you are paid to be discreet?'

'Oh, in that case the sphinx will seem like a chatterbox in comparison.'

She waved her hand and thought a while. I had been offered no refreshment of any sort. 'I have a proposition for you. How much do you earn at the moment?'

This was an impolite question. By the standards of journalism I was paid adequately, although I knew that by the standards of Lady Ravenscliff it was probably a pitiful sum. Masculine pride does not like to be so easily damaged.

'Why do you want to know that?' I asked cautiously.

'Because in order to secure your services I will no doubt have to pay you somewhat more than you receive already. I wish to know how much more.'

I grunted. 'Well, if you must know, I am paid £125 a year.'

'Yes,' she said sweetly, 'you are.'

'I beg your pardon?'

'Naturally, I discovered this for myself. I wanted to see whether you would give me an accurate figure, or inflate it in the hope of getting more out of me. You have made a good start as an honest man.'

'And you have made a very poor start as a worthy employer.'

She acknowledged the reproof, although without any sign of remorse.

'That is true. But you will see in a moment why I am so cautious.'

'I am waiting.'

She frowned, which did not suit her naturally even complexion, and thought for a moment. 'Well,' she said eventually, 'I would like to offer you a job. It will pay £350 a year, plus any expenses you might incur, and continue for seven years, no matter how long you take to fulfil the task I will give you. This will be an inducement for you to accept the offer, and be discreet. Should you fail in the latter, then all payment will be suspended immediately.'

It took a few moments to absorb this. It was a phenomenal sum. I would easily be able to save a hundred a year, and so could look forward to perhaps another four years afterwards without having to worry about money. Eleven years of blessed security, in all. What could she possibly want that would justify that sum? Whatever it was, I intended to do it. As long as it didn't involve too long a gaol sentence.

'You are aware, perhaps, that my husband, Lord Ravenscliff, died a fortnight ago?'

I nodded.

'It was a terrible accident – I still cannot believe it. However, it happened. And I must now live as a widow.'

Not for long, though, I bet, I thought to myself as I composed my face into an expression of suitable sympathy.

'Please accept my condolences for your loss,' I said piously.

She treated the conventional remark with the solemnity it deserved, which is to say that she ignored it totally.

'As you no doubt know, death is not merely an emotional matter for those who are bereaved. The law demands attention as well.'

'The police are involved?'

She looked very queerly at me. 'Of course not,' she replied. 'I mean that there is a will to be read, estates to be settled, bequests to be made.'

'Oh. Yes. I'm sorry.'

She paused for a long while after that little exchange; perhaps the calm presentation was more difficult for her than it appeared.

'We were married for nearly twenty years, Mr Braddock. In that time we were as happy and content as a couple can be. I hope you can appreciate that.'

'I'm sure of it,' I replied, wondering what this was all about.

'So you can realise that when I was read his will, which gave a substantial legacy to his child, I was surprised.'

'Were you?' I asked cautiously.

'We had no children.'

'Ah.'

'And so I wish you to discover the identity of this child, so that the terms of his will can—'

'Just a moment,' I said in a rush, holding up my hand. The small amount of information she'd given me had already generated so many questions that I was having difficulties holding all of them in my head at the same time.

'Just a moment,' I repeated more calmly. 'Can we go through this a little more slowly? First of all, why are you telling me this? I mean, why me? You know nothing about me.'

'Oh, I do. You come recommended.'

'Really? By whom?'

'By your editor. We have known him for some time. He said you were a fine ferreter out of other people's secrets. He also told me you could be discreet and, incidentally, told me how much you are paid.'

'There must be someone better than me.'

'That is modest of you. And do not think I have not considered the matter carefully. In fact, there are few people capable of performing such a task. Lawyers occasionally employ such people, but none I know of. There are investigative agencies, but I do not feel inclined to trust someone who does not come personally recommended. Besides, they might well require more information than I can provide. I do not know whether this child is alive, when he or she was born, who the mother was. I do not even know in which country it might have been born. There is just one sentence in his will.'

'And that's it? Nothing else at all?'

'Nothing at all.'

'What did the will say, exactly?'

She paused for a moment, and then recited. '"Conscious of my failings in so many matters, and wishing to make amends for past ills, I direct that the sum of £250,000 be left to my child, whom I have never previously acknowledged." So you see, it is not a small matter.' She looked at me evenly as she spoke.