London in Auguste, well in time to see the last Test at Millbank, so let us hope by then we’ve won the series of nine. And, by the way, that particular pitch will need a two-ton roller.
This time Sir Alan had underlined Auguste, Millbank, nine and two-ton. He was beginning to wish he’d taken a greater interest in cricket when he was at Shrewsbury, but then he’d been a wet bob, not a dry bob. However, as Sir Giles, who was sitting at the end of the table, had been awarded an Oxford cricket blue, he was confident that the intricacies of leather upon willow were about to be explained to him.
Sir Alan was pleased to see that everyone appeared to have finished reading the communiqué, although Mrs Clifton was still making notes.
‘I think I’ve worked out most of what our man in Buenos Aires is trying to tell us, but there are still one or two niceties that are eluding me. For example, I’ll need some help on Arthur Barrington, because even I know the great Test batsman is called Ken.’
‘Sebastian’s middle name is Arthur,’ said Harry. ‘So I think we can assume that he will be arriving in Southampton on Sunday June the twenty-third, because Test matches are never played on a Sunday, and there isn’t a Test ground at Southampton.’
The cabinet secretary nodded.
‘And eight must be how many million pounds the ambassador thinks is involved,’ suggested Giles from the far end of the table, ‘because Ken Barrington’s Test average is over fifty.’
‘Very good,’ said Sir Alan, making a note. ‘But I’m unable to explain why Matthews misspelt addition as edition, and August as Auguste.’
‘And Tate,’ said Giles. ‘Because Maurice Tate used to bat for England at number nine, certainly not number five.’
‘That also had me stumped,’ said Sir Alan, amused by his own little play on words. ‘But can anyone explain the two misspellings?’
‘I think I can,’ said Emma. ‘My daughter Jessica is an artist, and I remember her telling me that many sculptors cast nine editions of their work, which are then stamped and numbered. And the spelling of Auguste hints at the identity of the artist.’
‘I’m still none the wiser,’ said Sir Alan, and from the expressions around the table, it was clear that he was not alone.
‘It has to be Renoir or Rodin,’ said Emma. ‘And as it wouldn’t be possible to conceal eight million pounds in an oil painting, I suspect you’ll find it’s been hidden in a two-ton sculpture by Auguste Rodin.’
‘And is he hinting that Sir John Rothenstein, the director of the Tate Gallery on Millbank, will be able to tell me which sculpture?’
‘He’s already told us,’ said Emma triumphantly. ‘It’s one of the words you failed to underline, Sir Alan.’ Emma was unable to resist a smirk. ‘My late mother would have spotted it long before I did, even on her death bed.’
Both Harry and Giles smiled.
‘And what word did I fail to underline, Mrs Clifton?’
No sooner had Emma answered the question, than the cabinet secretary picked up the phone by his side and said, ‘Call John Rothenstein at the Tate, and make an appointment for me to see him this evening after the gallery has closed.’
Sir Alan put the phone down and smiled at Emma. ‘I’ve always been an advocate of employing more women in the Civil Service.’
‘I do hope, Sir Alan, that you’ll underline more and women,’ said Emma.
Sebastian stood on the upper deck of the Queen Mary and leaned over the railings as Buenos Aires receded in the distance until it looked like no more than a traced outline on an architect’s drawing board.
So much had happened in the short time since he’d been rusticated from Beechcroft, although he was still puzzled why his father had travelled all that way just to let him know he hadn’t lost his place at Cambridge. Wouldn’t it have been a lot easier just to phone the ambassador, who clearly knew Don Pedro? And why had the ambassador personally given him his passport, when Becky could have handed it to him at the reception desk? And even stranger, why had the ambassador wanted to know his middle name? He still didn’t have any answers to these questions by the time Buenos Aires had disappeared from sight. Perhaps his father would supply them.
He turned his thoughts to the future. His first responsibility, for which he had already been handsomely recompensed, was to ensure that Don Pedro’s sculpture passed smoothly through customs, and