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‘Possibly, but what I can tell you is that Lady Hartley only mentioned the Constable as being of any real value,’ said Booth Watson, which caused Miles to stop once again.

‘So the Right Honourable Lord Hartley, the former Home Secretary, has to be the deceased, and no doubt you discovered this after one of your funeral visits.’

Booth Watson ignored the slight and simply said, ‘While the cat’s away.’

‘The cat being Simon Hartley,’ said Miles, ‘Lord Hartley’s only son, who is locked up in a Saudi jail for a crime he didn’t commit.’

‘How can you possibly know he’s innocent?’

‘If you were to read theFinancial TimesandPrivate Eyeinstead of theDaily Telegraph,BW, you’d be far better informed. For weeks the papers have been full of speculation as to who the real culprit is – a young Saudi Prince seems the leading candidate. However, as the Saudi delegation is about to land on our shores, I suspect it won’t be too long before Simon Hartley is released, and I suspect that may mean his mother will no longer need to sell the Constable or Jefferson’s Declaration.’

‘You’re right in theory,’ said Booth Watson. ‘But as the dear lady approached me and not her family solicitor to solve the problem, we’re still in with a chance. Her Ladyship also made it clear when I last spoke to her that she would be happy for you to visit Hartley Hall so you could view the Constable at your earliest convenience.’

‘Whereas what we really want to get our hands on is the Fair Copy of the Declaration,’ said Miles.

Neither man spoke for some time as they continued tostroll along the narrow path that circled the lake and made their way back towards the War Rooms.

‘Make it Tuesday or Wednesday of next week,’ said Miles, ‘so we don’t look as if we’re in a hurry, and that will still be a few days before the Saudis turn up.’

‘I’ll call Lady Hartley this afternoon and fix a time,’ said Booth Watson, as Miles stopped to stare at the recently constructed London Eye that dominated the landscape, before turning back to look at Buckingham Palace.

‘I can’t believe,’ said Miles, ‘that Her Majesty ever thought she’d be confronted with something quite that vulgar whenever she looked out of her bedroom window.’

A swan raised its imperious head, as if in agreement.

CHAPTER 13

BOOTHWATSON ROSE EARLIER THANusual that morning, as he needed to be in Cadogan Square by eight o’clock. He felt sure Miles would have had breakfast long before then, read the papers, opened his mail and be waiting for him … impatiently.

Although he’d left his flat in Middle Temple in good time, and the taxi dropped him off in Cadogan Square with nine minutes to spare, he could see Miles sitting in the back of his car reading theFinancial Times. He paid the fare and asked the cabbie for a receipt.

‘I’ve been doing some research,’ Miles said, not bothering with a ‘good morning’ as Booth Watson joined him in the back of the car. ‘The acknowledged authority on Jefferson is a Professor Saul Rosenberg, whose bookMonticelloconfirms that the third president did write a Fair Copy of the Declaration of Independence including two extra clauses – one concerning the emancipation of slaves, while the other spelt out the details of America’s relationship with King George III once it became an independent nation.’

‘And if the Hartleys are in possession of the original handwritten Fair Copy …’

‘It is, to quote Rosenberg, priceless.’

‘I wonder if Lady Hartley knows that,’ said Booth Watson.

‘If she does, it will have been a wasted trip,’ replied Miles, as Collins drove out onto the M4. ‘Still, I’m bound to admit, if it is the missing Fair Copy, and we can get our hands on it, it will be a double bonus for you.’

‘A double bonus,’ repeated Booth Watson suspiciously.

‘Yes. Thanks to your “no comeback” clause in my divorce settlement, I’ve finally got Christina off my back.’

‘Eleven B, little c,’ said Booth Watson, sounding rather pleased with himself, ‘which states that should Christina marry again, you will automatically be released from all your present financial obligations, which have happily been passed on to one Wilbur T. Hackensack III.’

‘Let’s hope he got her to sign a prenup,’ said Miles.

‘Not according to theMailhe didn’t,’ said Booth Watson.

‘Then he’s about to find out that Christina will come up with expenses that would make a politician blush.’

‘Perhaps she’s keeping him happy,’ mused Booth Watson, ‘and he doesn’t care. And I can tell you someone else who doesn’t care, because she’s also got in on the act.’

‘Who?’ demanded Miles, turning to face his legal adviser.

‘None other than Mrs Beth Warwick, who I’m told will be returning as director of the Fitzmolean if Christina becomes chair, making your little coup with Rembrandt’s Angelsomewhat short-lived. However, you’ll be pleased to hear I’ve come up with a strategy that should kill two birds with one stone.’