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‘While Professor Rosenberg’s opinion is greatly respected,’ said William, ‘there is only one person who can verify that the letter is authentic, and that, sir, is you.’

‘And if you were able to,’ added Trevelyan, ‘the Fair Copy of the Declaration will undoubtedly end up in the Library of Congress as your father intended.’

‘Then I’ll need to see the letter,’ said Hartley.

Trevelyan opened his briefcase and removed a single sheet of paper. He handed it across to Hartley before he said, ‘This is, of course, a copy of the letter, which Special Agent Buchanan sent to the Foreign Office overnight. The original remains in New York in the safekeeping of the FBI.’

Simon took his time reading the letter while William and Trevelyan waited anxiously for his opinion. After a second reading, Simon handed the letter back to Trevelyan and said, ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, gentlemen, but this is not the letter Thomas Jefferson sent to David Hartley in 1787. In fact, it’s a forgery – a damned good forgery, but nevertheless a forgery.’

‘How can you be so certain?’ asked William, fairly sure he knew what Hartley’s response would be.

‘In the letter I know and remember well, Franklin was spelled correctly with an “i” and not a “y”,’said their host, with a finality that didn’t brook discussion.

‘So if you were subpoenaed to appear in court …’ began William.

‘I would be left with no choice but to tell the truth, Chief Superintendent.’

‘And if we were to tell you, Mr Hartley,’ said William, ‘that it was Mr Faulkner who destroyed the original letter, with the sole purpose of making a fortune, without giving a damn about the reputation of your family, would that make any difference?’

Hartley’s demeanour did not change. ‘No, it would not,’ he said firmly, ‘despicable though that is.’

‘Or that it was Faulkner who arranged to have Avril Dubois murdered, and then bribed the prison governor to make sure you suffered the same fate?’

‘Something I already knew,’ said Simon. ‘However it doesn’t alter anything, not least because I took advantage of the Governor’s greed, and deducted one hundred and fifty thousand dollars for a better cause.’

‘Do you not feel, Mr Hartley, that you could tell a white lie given the circumstances?’ suggested Mr Trevelyan.

‘There’s no such thing as a white lie, Mr Trevelyan.’

William knew when he was beaten, even though Trevelyan battled on for a little longer, pointing out that Professor Rosenberg had managed to ignore the ‘y’.

‘While I sympathize with your cause, Mr Trevelyan, I must remind you that the truth doesn’t come in different shades of convenience to suit the individual, or even the country, concerned.’

Eventually Trevelyan gave up, but not until his coffee had gone cold. He left, reflecting that the Foreign Office would have to advise Mr Shaw and Special Agent Buchanan to settle with Faulkner, as they could not hope to win should Hartley be called as a witness.

William also accepted that the CPS didn’t have enough evidence to arrest Faulkner as an accessory in the murder of Avril Dubois, so there would be nothing to stop him appearingas a witness when the case came to court. They left the Old Vicarage empty-handed.

They had only covered a couple of miles on their way back to London when Danny interrupted their conversation, ‘Straight ahead of you, sir.’

William looked up to see a Rolls-Royce heading towards them and, as they passed, he observed Faulkner and Booth Watson sitting in the back, deep in conversation.

•••

The Rolls-Royce drew up outside the Old Vicarage a few minutes later.

Simon was checking the Stock Exchange prices in theFinancial Timeswhen he heard the front doorbell ring. He wondered if the Chief Superintendent and Mr Trevelyan had returned to make a further attempt to convince him he should change his mind.

His thoughts were interrupted when the door opened and Hannah reappeared. ‘A Mr Faulkner and a Mr Booth Watson are asking to see you. Something to do with the family Constable.’

‘Please show them in, my darling,’ said Simon, ‘and I’ll need my cheque book.’

Simon pushed himself up as the two men entered the room. Once they had introduced themselves, he offered them both a seat, but not by the fire. Moments later, Hannah reappeared carrying a second tray of coffee and biscuits. She was trying to recall where she’d seen the older of the two men. She poured them both a cup of coffee before departing, and then she remembered.

‘You will be aware, Mr Hartley,’ said Booth Watson, ‘thatyour mother sold my client a painting, which she claimed was a Constable, for five hundred thousand pounds, but turned out to have been painted by one of his pupils.’ Booth Watson chose his next words carefully. ‘Of course, as you were abroad at the time, it’s possible you were not aware of this.’

‘My mother informed me as soon as I returned,’ said Simon, picking up the cheque book Hannah had left on the tray, ‘and I’m only too happy to repay the full amount,’ he added, making out a cheque for £500,000. ‘But, in return, I will expect you to return not only the painting, but also Jefferson’s Fair Copy of the Declaration, which my father had intended to hand over to the American Ambassador. He sadly passed away before the meeting could take place, as I suspect you are both well aware.’

Faulkner smiled at Simon. ‘Don’t let’s be too hasty, old chap,’ he said. ‘After all, we’re both men of the world, and the last thing I’d want to do is embarrass your mother.’