'Have Security been on to you?' 'Not yet. I telephoned to tell them of course, since they're so mad keen to know every little thing, and they just grunted, but the PM's been on to me.' 'He'd heard about the story and the rumours? T 'Well, he'd heard something, and I told him the rest and he was not pleased.' 'It's a bit early to get upset,' said Ducane. 'We don't even know what this story is.' 'No, but you know as well as I do that politicians aren't concerned with justice being done, they're concerned with justice seeming to be done as a result of their keen-eyed vigilance. Apparently he's already being pressed to have an official inquiry.' 'Which kind? T 'That hasn't emerged yet, but the point is, this is where you come in.' 'Me?' 'Yes. You'd be surprised how well thought of you are amongst our leaders. The wants you to conduct an inquiry,: 'What status would I have?' said Ducane. 'Well, thank God you're taking it so coolly, I thought you'd explode! Strictly speaking you wouldn't have any status, that is the inquiry would be a purely departmental one. I would instruct you to inquire and you would inquire. The rest would have to be played by ear.' 'I see. I suppose quick action is the point.' 'Precisely. The PM doesn't want this thing to snowball. If we can clear it all up quickly, establish what went on if anything, and demonstrate that there's no Security interest, we can avoid an official inquiry which the PM doesn't want any more than we do.' 'It's one of those things which it's not easy to demonstrate,' said Ducane. 'If Radeechy had a fishy private life, and if the press keep dropping hints, people will believe anything. It's become a sort of cliche. However, I'll certainly have a go. It doesn't look as if I've got much choice anyway! I suppose there isn't the faintest chance that poor Radeechy was being blackmailed into handing over secret stuff? V 'Not the faintest,' said Octavian. 'You'd agree, wouldn't you, you two?» 'One never knows about anyone,' said Biranne, 'but I shouldn't have thought it of Radeechy.' 'I agree,' said George Droysen. 'And I knew him reasonably well as far as meeting in the office goes.' 'That doesn't go very far,' said Ducane. 'However it appears he was being blackmailed?' 'So the tale runs.' 'And he did shoot himself. Why did he shoot himself?' 'And in the office too,' said Octavian. 'That does strike me as somehow odd and significant. Why couldn't he shoot himself decently at home?' 'He was terribly depressed about his wife's death,' said George Droysen. 'You remember she got killed last year, fell out of a window or something. He was quite shattered.' 'Well, that's a possible motive,' said Ducane. 'He didn't leave a note, did he?' 'No,' said Octavian. 'That's a bit odd too. He was such a one for writing minutes about every damn thing. You'd think he'd have left us a minute about his own death!' 'If we could discover exactly why he did it, that should settle the Security point. It looks as if we shall have to find out a lot about Radeechy. Did you know him well Biranne?' 'Scarcely knew him at all,' said Biranne. 'We just met in the office, and not much even there. No, I didn't know him.' 'I never saw much of him myself,' said Ducane, 'but I confess I'm surprised about this Helen of Troy story. I shouldn't have thought Radeechy was that sort of chap.' 'Any man is that sort of chap,' said Biranne, and giggled. Ducane ignored him. 'He seemed to me much more the cranky scientist type. The last conversation I had with him was about poltergeists. He had some theory about their being connected with the water table.' 'He communed with spirits,' said George Droysen. 'After all,' said Octavian, 'spiritualism and magic and all that are connected with sex, always have been. Sex comes to most of us with a twist. Maybe that was just his twist.' Ducane was not sure whether sex came to most of us with a twist. He could not help wondering whether it came to Octavian with one. 'Has he any close family?' he asked. 'Apparently there's no one except a sister who's been living in Canada for years.' 'I'd better see the police,' said Ducane, 'and look over whatever they've got, though I imagine that won't amount to much. Would you see that I'm OK'd with Scotland Yard, Octavian? And perhaps you'd get back to Fleet Street, Droysen, and track down that story for us, and also find out who gave it to the press.' 'Back to the old pubs!' said Droysen. 'It's a pleasure.' 'You'd better write me an official letter, Octavian.' 'I've already drafted one.' 'Well, put into it, would you, that I can use my own discretion about not revealing anything which I think is not germane to the purpose of the inquiry.' 'I suppose that's all right?' said Octavian dubiously. 'Of course it is. After all, we aren't investigating poor Radeechy's morals. What was his first name, by the way?' 'Joseph,' said Biranne. 'Are you going to Dorset, Octavian?' 'Certainly! What's more, you are too. There's no point in starting in until young Droysen has done his detective work.' 'All right. Ring me as soon as you get anything.' He gave Droysen the Trescombe telephone number. 'Well, that's all, friends.' Ducane stood up. Droysen stood up too. Biranne remained seated, looking at Octavian with a deferential air. Ducane cursed his own bad manners. He had become so used to being, in his friendship with Octavian, the acknowledged superior that he had for a moment forgotten that this was Octavian's room, Octavian's meeting, and not his. But his chief feeling at that instant was hostility to Biranne. Once, many years ago, across a partition in a restaurant, Ducane had overheard Biranne talking about him, Biranne was speculating about whether Ducane was homosexual. Cursing himself too for the persistence of this memory, Ducane recalled the particular quality of Biranne's mocking laughter. How did they cook eggs in ancient Greece?' Edward Biranne asked his mother.
'Do you know, I'm not sure,' said Paula.
'What's Greek for a poached egg?' said Henrietta.
'I don't know. There are references to eating eggs but I can't recall any references to cooking them.'
'Perhaps they ate them raw,' said Henrietta.
'Not very likely,' said Paula. 'Can you remember anything in Homer?'
The twins, taught Greek and Latin from an early age by their mother, were already fairly proficient classicists. However, they could not remember anything in Homer.
'We could try Liddell and Scott,' said Henrietta. 'Willy will know,' said Edward. 'May we have that seaweed in our bath tonight?' said Henrietta.
