‘At whatever he attempted,’ was the brief reply.

Joe’s eye was caught by a distracting detail of the Brigadier’s uniform and he turned his face away from Lois, unwilling to reveal his fleeting expression of interest and surprise. Could he have this right? he wondered and checked again discreetly. Yes, it was small but there was no mistaking the insignia.

He could have commented on it, shown an informed interest in the wreath of oak leaves surrounding the letters RFC, asked a polite question, but he decided, on impulse, to keep his observation to himself. Enough to note that Lois didn’t consider it worthy of comment.

‘Your rank intrigues me,’ Lois went on. ‘Commander? It has a naval ring to it?’

‘Yes. And quite deliberately so. You are intended to be impressed by it. You are intended to think, “My goodness! If such a young and dashing chap can attain the rank of Commander, he must be of high ability and of some consequence in the force.”’

He had attempted a light, self-deprecating tone but Lois was ready, as usual, with her barbed comment. ‘Or perhaps, “Here is a young man who has stepped into dead men’s shoes”? Many gaps in the ranks after the war. Too many green young colonels in the services. I suppose it was the same with the police?’

In all his time in India, Lois Vyvyan was the first to question him about his rank. She seemed genuinely interested and well informed, if annoyingly rude. Did she choose deliberately to ruffle his feathers? Joe was reminded strongly of a little Angus terrier he had owned before the war. It had hated strangers and would approach them, tail wagging with every sign of good humour but the moment a hand was extended in friendship, that hand would receive a nasty nip. Joe knew the dog couldn’t help it. He set out to be welcoming, he knew he ought to be friendly but he just had to bite first.

‘Well, I left the army a green major,’ said Joe, ‘and not being a dyed-in-the-wool military man I was very ready to transfer to the police force.’

‘Strange decision?’ said Lois. ‘Wasn’t it? Did no one advise you against it? Pounding the beat and apprehending small boys stealing apples must have seemed rather tame after four years of battling the Kaiser?’

‘Delightfully tame,’ said Joe with a broad grin. ‘I was never a career soldier. But I was promoted quickly from apple-scrumping arrests. There are in normal times two commanders for the London area. I was appointed a third with special duties.’

Lois was listening with genuine interest so he carried on. ‘After the war, many officers were turned loose on the civilized world to make their way in it again. Many had had their lives destroyed, their position in society usurped, their wealth dissipated, their fiancées stolen . . . And what were they left with? With a carefully nurtured ability to kill and to survive and a coarsened sense of morality on which to base their future existence. You will be shocked but perhaps not surprised to learn that some of these trained killers took to a life of crime and violence.’

Lois nodded.

‘And who was there to apprehend this new breed of villain – the upper class crook? Not a bumbling, bluecaped bobby, wobbling along on a bike! Imagine, will you, arriving at a large country house or at a flat in Albany to put a question or two to the Right Honourable Fruity Featherstonehaugh. A bobby would be expected to present himself at the tradesmen’s entrance, wipe his boots and, if he was lucky, the butler might inform his master of the presence of the Law below but in the meantime he would be welcome to a cup of kitchen tea and a slice of cook’s Dundee cake . . .’

‘Naturally. But a commander, well-born and educated, arrives at the front door able to speak de couronne en couronne to His Grace or whoever is suspected of some dastardly wheeze . . .’ said Lois with a flash of insight and enthusiasm.

‘Exactly! I have a department chosen by me and a wandering brief from the Commissioner, Sir Nevil Macready – who, by the way, is a close friend of Sir George and very like him in style.’

‘I see it all,’ smiled Lois. ‘But what on earth are you doing in India? I’m sure you are much needed in London. How can they spare you?’

‘I was lent to Sir George for six months to advise and train the Calcutta Police,’ said Joe. ‘A two-way process as it turned out! I learned as much from them as they learned from me. But my secondment seems to have stretched beyond the original spell. Sir George keeps finding me cases to clear up.’

‘And is that what you’re doing here?’ asked Lois with a sweet smile. ‘May we expect you to drag one of us away in manacles?’

‘No. I’m off duty. Sir George has granted me a week’s leave to watch a tiger being bagged.’

‘Oh, I think you’re planning on doing more than watch, Sandilands,’ came Claude’s voice from the door. ‘I’ve seen your gun! You could shoot the eye out of the Man in the Moon with that! Don’t be deceived, Lois, by this chap’s modesty. I had someone check his file for me – I’m a careful man, Commander! – and he’s quite a fire-eater. Watch out, Lois! If you’ve been cheating at bridge, he’ll find you out!’

This was the first time Joe had seen the Vyvyans reacting with each other and he was intrigued to note the sudden gentleness in Lois’s tone as she enquired about her husband’s morning. Her expressive face could not hide an unspoken question underlying the words and Claude responded to this with a reassuring smile and an imperceptible nod. He answered succinctly and lightly, involving their guest in his replies, and his eyes, Joe noticed, followed his wife as she moved about the room. He would have said their relationship was one of respect and affection.

With Claude’s sunny presence, the conversation, which had been limping along, took on a lighter tone and a faster pace. After a while Claude said hesitantly, ‘I don’t believe you’ll mind, Sandilands, if I tell Lois the news of our little ceremony with the ruler earlier? So much to do as a consequence of all that, I haven’t yet had time to inform her of his decision! My dear – it’s Bahadur!’

‘Well, of course it’s Bahadur! But how good to know that officially at last!’ was Lois’s delighted reply. ‘And . . .?’

‘And yours truly is to be co-regent. I must say I look forward to working with that clever young man! Quite the best thing that could have happened for Ranipur and for India. Why don’t I have a glass of that hock to celebrate, my love? I don’t often indulge in the middle of the day but this is a special occasion – I’m sure you’ll understand, Sandilands? A lot of hard work and planning has gone on behind the scenes to get to where we are at this moment!’

His comment fell with an almost audible clunk between them, a comment wide open to misinterpretation by anyone with a devious mind and quite obviously that was exactly what Lois Vyvyan had. Surprisingly, she chortled into her glass and looked at Joe with merriment. ‘Gracious, Claude! Do have a care! The Commander is reaching for his notebook! He’ll be asking you for a confession to two murders if you’re not more circumspect!’

Joe grinned affably back and Lois went on in the same light tone, ‘But who’s your partner-in-crime, Claude? You said co-regent? My money’s always been on Zalim . . .’

‘No. Rather a surprise, I have to say. It’s Third Her Highness. Shubhada. The lad’s stepmother.’

Lois’s amusement died. ‘Ah. Not such good news. Now why on earth would Udai go and do that?’

‘Makes a certain sense when you think about it,’ said Claude. ‘The girl’s intelligent and ambitious. I think she’ll take the position seriously. And don’t lose sight of the real reason for naming her. Udai’s very much in love with her and very much under her thumb, you’d say. He knows that his death will strip her of all official position in the state. She will be reduced to an insignificant and very dull existence indeed when he pops off. By making her coregent he enhances her power in princely India.’